Seraphim Legal Grounds

My Father Just Died

2011-06-15T02:08:00.019+08:00

070611 1020hrs – EXC.R.E.S.C.E.N.D.O.

The pages of Norwegian Wood was slightly dampdue to the rain it endured. Yet its pages still enthralled me with HarukiMurakami's story that I would briefly summarise as about sex and suicide. Itwasn't much but it provided much needed amusement for me and the bunch oftestosterone-overloaded and deprived men that I narrated to. Once again I layon the sponge mattress after more than a week to fully enjoy the novel. That morningwas the end of a long exercise that marked the end of blazing 40 degrees sunand midnight marches. I had my reservations about the performance of mytrainees for the last mission, but I shrugged it off to allow them a moment ofpeace. The chapter started with the suicide of its protagonist's love interest.

Then I got the call.

It was from a blocked number, so I had no ideawhere it originated. Initially all I could hear was static. Then there was loudsobbing in the background before the caller hung up. That was it. I was leftpuzzled by the call. I got a sudden chill as the snippet of noise eerilyconjured a horrid image of a mourning crowd in my mind. I quickly brushed awaythe image to get back to my protagonist's sorrows.

Again, the phone rang. The reception from 6472kilometres away was poor, but I could faintly discern that the sobbing was frommy mother, among others. Through her cries, I made out one clear statement -“Farhan, ayah baru meninggal.” She carried on with disjointed accounts of how itled up to the incident. Frustrated with the distorted speech, I asked her topass the phone to my sister. All I got from her was a verification of theincident. Without much thought, I let them hang up.

There was nothing but the silence of restingbodies and the air of satisfaction over the exercise's completion around me. Myhand trembled, my heart raced, but my mind remained clear. Nothing at all. Ichecked the time on my watch. It would be around 6.30am where she called mefrom. I let the thought of a cool dawn breeze wash over me. Nothing happened,only a short call in the middle of a perfectly quiet morning.

Then it hit me.

- retrieve last call - establish point ofcontact - take down details - inform superiors - make travel arrangements -check flight timings - calculate transfer costs - pack all luggage - sort handcarry - check local relatives - recall insurance coverage - contact travelagency - laundry being washed - assessment sheet unfilled - call credit balance-

A torrent of thoughts drowning me like atsunami. My own mind, the tool that allows me to work with ruthless, organisedefficiency is playing itself out. Mental notes were being taken, calculationswere processed and thoughts were reorganised. I let my mind do what it doesbest, but my conscience lay in wait. Where was the sadness, the sorrow, thebreaking down as realisation sinks in? Was I still stuck in the first stage ofgrief? I'm not even in the country and my father just died overseas for God'ssake! But none of that came. All that I could think of were these mundanethoughts making their own way through my mind. On the way to the canteen, Itweeted - 'What are you supposed to think about when someone close dies?'.Before, I ever wondered how I would be like when someone close dies. Would mycold, ruthless self remain or would a shred of humanity make an appearance. NowI know.

Facing my colleagues was a slight challenge. Itbecame tiring to keep up the jumpy, bitchy facade. Remaining composed was themost I could put up without dropping to the coldness underneath. One of themfollowed me on my way to pack my things. He praised my strength and offered mea prayer. The moment he touched me I felt my walls crumble and the hardexterior cracked. I hate those pure of heart and clear conscience, they stripme and leave me nothing but human. I quickly tried to disengage him, but notbefore my eyes watered and I caught a glimpse of the hollowness within me.

070611 1800hrs – BangkokCity, Thailand

From a distance, the Bangkok Mega Bridge was asight to behold. Its supporting columns look like sky-reaching solitary towers,making your awe disregard its purpose and massiveness. Only when we approachedthe structure did I realise that it was in fact a bridge. Passing through thismanmade beauty, I suddenly whimpered and my vision blurred. As soon as it cameit was gone. This was one of several brief outbursts that occurred throughoutthe journey to the airport. Initially, the duty clerk accompanying me wasvisibly disturbed, but he knew better than to ask.

The first and only song that came to mind was this:

Do you feel cold and lost indesperation?
You build up hope, but failure’s allyou’ve known.

Remember all the sadness and frustration.
And let it go. Let it go.

Perhaps I was still in denial, but I neverconveyed the news directly to any friends or relatives back home. Whoever knewprobably picked up that fact from my usual ambiguous rant on Twitter or fromthe condolences on my Facebook page. Strangely, it was cheaper and moreconvenient to use the internet than to call overseas, hence social networkingbecame the natural choice. Besides, I needed to burn off the prepaid credits.The mocha I was sipping at the airport Starbucks seemed to have lost itsflavour. Only then did I realise that Iskipped lunch due to the hussle back in camp. I waved to the barista to heat upa chocolate muffin. Flashing a smile in return, she brought it over since therewas no other customer to attend to. Before heading for the boarding gate, Iwent to perform the evening prayer. As the unnaturally cold water flowed overmy hands, my body moved by itself to perform ablution. After the salam at theend of the prayer, my vision blurred. With a deep breath, I turned to face theother people praying and my eyes became clear again.

070611 1543hrs – Mecca,Saudi Arabia

The town went still. The call to prayer fromthe Grand Mosque echoed into the horizon signalling the afternoon prayer.Everything would halt as the city would pray in unison, regardless of wherethey were and what they were doing. This was the scene from my memory of theholy city of Mecca twelve years ago, and it would probably be the same now. Atthe Ka’bah, at the centre of the Grand Mosque where all Muslims pray towards, amore solemn occasion would begin after the daily prayer. It was not an uncommonsight, but today from 7268 kilometres away I was there in spirit. Upon theKa’bah, at the center of the religion of Islam, by the footprints of theProphet, lay the body of my father.

0806110025hrs – Changi Airport, Singapore

There were some close friends waiting for me atthe airport. I couldn’t be bothered to start a domestic drama by calling arelative. They probably didn’t know I was back in Singapore. Talking to myfriends, everything seemed normal again. We went for supper and everything wasperfectly fine. It was like that for the next week, going out with friends andgoing about my everyday life. There was no crying mother or a hoard ofrelatives at home. I kept the house in my preferred clinical sanitary conditionand looked through the insurance papers with a morbid curiousity. Other thanthe occasional calls chasing for the death certificate, it would have beennothing more than a quiet week all by myself.

090611 1945hrs – Tahlil, aunt’shome

Every Thursday night, it was religiouslycustomary to recite the Ya Sin, the 36^th chapter of the Qur’an. Thatevening, the paternal relatives had a small gathering for a remembranceceremony. There was an awkward moment as they greeted me, as if they wereexpecting a dramatic breakdown or profound sorrow in my eyes. The whole scenelooked like a set up, with soft casual conversations and the aroma of food. Iwas half expecting hidden cameras and somebody to pop out to declare that itwas all a big prank. I returned their greetings with the traditional handshakeand a curt nod. They gifted the Ya Sin, Al-Fateha and a prayer and as all Malaygatherings go, proceeded with a hearty meal.

I was never much of a believer, prefering theagnostic view, contrary to my religious upbringing. When the ceremony startedhowever, I felt a stirring from within. The Arabic words rolled off my tongueand I used the book only as a reminder. It was akin to how the Prophet receivedthe first word of the Qur’an. “Iqra, speak!”, said Gabriel, and the Prophetspoke the first verse of the Qur’an. Perhaps this was what it meant to be as adisbeliever yet an instrument of God. Always having the curiousity to doubt,without the wisdom to clear them. But entrenched deep within is the knowledgeand muscle memory of the religion. I recited the Ya Sin smoothly, as if it wasonly yesterday that I last read it. So this was what the religious scholarsmeant when they refer to the true form of the Qur’an. Not in print, nor in thewords spoken, but in its very definition – the Recital, with meaning comingfrom within the very essence of your soul.

If I was asked to deliver a eulogy that night,I would have been dumbfounded. What would I say about a man I hardly knew. Ihave nothing against my family, especially my father, just that we were neverclose and he was a particularly quiet man. I make it a point in life not tolive with regrets, always looking forward. But I know that in the corner of mymind was the desire to know the person who brought me up. In a fantasy that Irecall, I was resting my head by my father’s side on his deathbed, and he wouldtell me about life growing up at the kampong, what he was like when he was ateenager and how he got to know my mother. As I sat in front of the lakewriting this, I half-wished that the scene would play out in the reflection ofthe water. But I know this would never be, and my tears would only dry up,leaving the whole bittersweet scene as nothing but a figment of my imagination.

So here I am in Singapore, sitting by the lakewith the moon reflecting off the water, after having rushed a week ago fromThailand, and the rest of my family still in Saudi Arabia. In a tale of threecities, I offer to end with what some might call a prayer, but others a plea.

Inthe name of God, most gracious, most merciful.

DearGod, accept me for my sins. It is by your will that I came to be and to you Iwill return. I may turn away from you but you are regardless a living presencein the core of my being. I will always be an instrument of your will, the handof God. I do not expect fairness from this world but taking my father back isstill cruel. If you declare that it is his time, I can do nothing but accept. Ashow we welcome new birth, we must accept death. It is with thanks that you takehim back in the most perfect of conditions. Thank you for inviting him to yourholy city three times. Thank you for allowing him to share in the footsteps ofthe Prophet. Thank you for giving him a resting place among the holy. He isyours to take back, but I ask that you keep him with you among respectablecompany, at the highest of thrones. I ask that you wash him free from sins andlet him watch over me. Until it is my time to return and await your judgement.

Amin.

Ten Signs You're In The Army Too Long

2010-04-27T07:05:00.001+08:00

10. You can talk for hours on end about weapons and various
divisions. Guards vs commando, scope vs iron sight, etc.

9. You hum marching songs in the shower. And even make remixes.

8. You make sex jokes with military innuendo. Hey baby, want to unload
check clear my rifle?

7. Practically any female is attractive. Like the cookhouse auntie.

6. You have a name for your rifle.

5. New and better equipment give you a confidence boost.

4. Weekends are spent at the army market buying supplies. That's where
the bulk of your allowance goes to.

3. Chemo cream actually improves your complexion.

2. You have an army nickname. Eg. the M69 Fucking Device.

1. You gape at people's chests. Not for their boobs, but their badges.

Staring At Another New Ceiling

2010-04-03T19:22:00.001+08:00

When I awoke on 10 January last year, I awoke to a bunk full of strangers and an even stranger surrounding. I've just been robbed of my civilian freedom and thrust into the confined of National Service. More than a year later I awake to yet a different ceiling, a strange new surrounding, the same differences but a pleasant role reversal. This time the old camou uniforms have been swapped with snazzy pixelised ones adorned with ranks and badges, no longer stowed offshore but still at the fringes of civilisation and the lecturer whining about bunk layout is me.

How much yet little things have hanged since I lacked all that hair. Pity I did not pen down the whirlwind of events, though my comrades would agree that donning the uniform stifles personal thoughts. 2009 has seen me swap ranks from white to black to white again, before concluding with my long overdue stripes. Bouncing between combat and support side has given me ample insight into the organisation. To pick a highlight of the year, nothing tops the two shopping sprees in Taipei. Oh, right, and of course the invaluable friendships forged through the sheesha haze and earthquakes while balancing on the edge of a mountain. And there's this leech I can't quite shake off.

After one year down the rollercoaster, it had now become my turn to put others through the ride. Since my ride has lasted longer than most, my twists and turns are about to end. Not before one last big jolt apparently. Regardless, now I have a bunch of young lads to gear up and teach how go hold their stomachs through the upcoming loop de loop. I'm just hoping what I have to offer gives then a good ride instead of their lunch on their laps.

As for this blog, I have consulted with Rafahn and we have both agreed to get this act together. Sure there won't be exciting weekday skives to gleefully report about, but if life throws you a bunch of bullets, you throw a bucketload of mortar rounds back. So despite how dull life in service might be, I will dutifully pen them here in the most entertainingly exaggerated way that I can.

Once again I awake from my 7 hours of uninterrupted rest. The ceiling might be new, but it is one that I have come to place ownership upon. One that many after me will stare at, with apprehension then acceptance.

Welcome back to the army, commander.

My BMT Experience

2009-03-01T10:38:00.000+08:00

This is the entry I submitted for the 'My BMT Experience' essay competition. I don't even know why I even bothered submitting the entry, since it's so full of politically incorrect statements. At least it'll make for a good laugh to those people censoring it. And it makes for another great blog post.

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Forbidden Files #06 - My BMT Experience

An exposé by Seraphim

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The first time I noticed the SAF 7 Core Values along the stretch at SFT was when I was being wheeled off on a stretcher to CGH. My eyes lingered on the last one; care for soldiers, and I knew right then that the SAF stuck true to its word. Then I took a glance at another value; fighting spirit, and it is because of this value that I return to BMTC as a recoursee.

Unlike most recruits, I have a more interesting BMT tale to tell due to my extended stay there. After one year of enlistment, I have heard accounts by my peers of POP to commissioning, from leadership batch and PTP batch, from commanders and men alike. Disappointingly, BMT held no more surprises for me. So what stops me from describing my BMT experience as 'sian' or its other synonyms? For me the answer lies in the motto of BMTC - Excel Through Basics.

There is a generalisation that those of the JC leadership batch are a protected lot, naive to the delinquency beyond their own bubble. What people do not realise is that there are also subtle discrepancies among them. One can quickly spot this when the recruits are brought back to their basics, that is to be rid of their civilian clothes and have their hair 'botak'. Suddenly the recruits reveal what they are truly like inside - a hidden 'garang' expression behind those spectacles or a scared look behind those heavy fringes. Seeing this first transformation again reminds me of the individuality of every person, and that it is the people who makes each BMT experience unique.

Like in a class, every platoon is never complete without its stereotypes. There are the clowns, the jocks, the pipsqueaks, the weirdoes, and since this is the army, there are also the 'wayang', the 'kilat' and the 'chao keng'. To be honest, my platoon was hardly the best performing platoon in the company. After numerous attempts, we still could not align our basha tents or be the first to fall in. Despite our shortcomings, we nonetheless displayed an audacity to persevere and continue until the end. Slowly but surely we overcame our flaws, and use them to our advantage. During my time as platoon IC, I recall bringing this up to the platoon. Since we insisted on walking and talking everywhere, I proposed that we stuck to it. And just like that, we out-walked and out-sang the other platoons during our march to the SITEST site, much to my ironic amusement. The commanders are also no different; each having their own quirks. Regardless, their consistent top-notch quality proves them true to their ranks. All of us shaped the platoon the way it is, and we would never have asked anyone else to replace us.

Of all the trying times in BMT, nothing came close to field camp. Six days of unclean uniforms, unchanged underwears, unbrushed teeth and uncleared bowels made up field camp. Top it up with the 'tekan' sessions and the heat and it tops the list of challenging things in BMT. That was when we were introduced to the art of digging a shell scrape. My section will never forget our digging experience, where we got frustrated not because of the exhaustion, but because of the futility of our digging. Everybody else seemed to have dug a better shell scrape than ours. Back at home my mother informed me, to my surprise and horror, that our shell scrape site used to be her 'kampung', and that it was a granite hill. That explains why we saw sparks when we struck our shell scrape. Besides this trial, there were other events which made field camp a highlight. Our commanders' demonstration of the battle course and a convoy ambush were a sight to behold, impressing us with the pyrotechnics and their professionalism. The thrill of urban operations, the early morning artillery drill turnout, the gruelling crawl through the BIC grounds and having the platoon sing my birthday song in 'knock it down' position all made field camp a memorable experience.

The 'lau jiao' all say that army is when you wait to rush and rush to wait. This anecdote brings about some phenomena, like the race of the food ICs before meals to 'chop' a place for the platoon, the race to the toilet after breakfast to get the seated cubicle for the morning excretion and the race to the front of the platoon before marches to avoid the constant running. Then there are also the SAF core values #08 and #09 - you can do anything but do not get caught and if you get caught, act blur. Recruits particularly adhere to this when they are apprehended for contraband, like chargers or PSPs, and especially when commanders give conflicting orders, letting them shoulder the blame instead. The 'lau jiao' also say that the food now is much better than back in the days when there were NSF cooks. From the compliments that my non-Muslim counterparts continually shower over my food, that is probably true. But what is treasured most during meal times is the boisterous light talk that cools us down, freshening us up for the next volley of fire from our commanders. I have come to recognise these idiosyncrasies as the defining points of NS life, taking its queerness as what makes military life different and enjoyable.

On the fast craft back to Tekong, you can always spot a common expression that asks 'why are we doing this?'. That is a question that will cross every NSF's mind at some point in time. One PC's answer was to protect our families back home. Another told me that it is to protect our comrades, to keep the people around us alive in times of war. I personally like one captain's answer - to protect the 'chio bu' on mainland. As a descendant of the very island I train on, I truly understand why NS exists. Singapore has endured and invested too much to ever resign our sovereignty. She has become our home, where we return to our loved ones. The medics' motto reads 'So They May Live'. I couldn't agree more.

Having been at both Ladang Camp and Rocky Hill Camp, designed the company t-shirt, parodied a platoon sergeant, took a shot at company best shot, swam for games day and seen two dud grenades detonate, I can honestly say that my BMT experience is complete. When the moment comes when I hear the words 'presenting our trained soldiers', I am confident that BMTC has equipped me with the qualities and skills needed to face future military life. Through trials and tribulations, BMTC has proven that the strength of the SAF lies not just in the abilities of the individual, but the combined strength of every son of Singapore. As I take my last fast craft ride back, I will look around and say that the people around me are those who I am glad to defend and trust as brothers in arms. These are the comrades who have learnt to excel through basics with me, on our journey to strive to be the best in the SAF.

Staring At A New Ceiling

2009-01-26T13:29:00.092+08:00

Writing this feels surreal. And yes, I'm actually writing this paragraph manually with pen and paper to keep myself awake. Why though? After all, I'm still sitting in a lecture theatre in my uniform listening to a daunting lecture and occasionally sneaking a toilet break just to get away from the lecturer for a bit. Sounds just like a few months ago. Perhaps it's because I've swapped my college uniform for a chemo one, my lecturer's stripping a rifle instead of a poem and my lecture theare is 4 kilometres away from the shore of an island that isn't Singapore.

It definitely feels surreal when your surroundings drastically change within the span of days. At least it wasn't as drastic as last year. Within months, during the nights I would stare from my bedroom ceiling, to the night spots of Singapore, to the army bunk, to the hospital ward, then back to my lecture theatre. Disorienting would be an understatement. But it wasn't that bad this year, since I already knew what to expect, so the change didn't come as a shock.

Waking up to a different ceiling provokes a most curious response to different people. Being a morning bird, I had the chance to see the reactions of my section mates when they wake up. Some jolt awake in shock at the what-the-fuckness of the situation, their stares screaming how the hell did I get here. While others prefer to stay in denial and hope that snoozing for a few extra minutes will change the ceiling back to their familiar bedroom.

Most of all, staring at the ceiling of my bunk gives me a strange sense of reality. Penning down my thoughts seem surreal at first as it still felt like a deja vu, like I've been lifted off the pages of my life and re-reading it again from the previous chapter. But as the days pass, staring at this new ceiling feels strangely new. I'm waking up to a new day and getting closer where I previously left off.

Sure, the days will only get tougher and more unexpected, but what is life without a little thrill? I bet the Oracle from the Matrix lives her day rolling her eyes constantly from the boredom of knowing what comes next. So I start this new year proper, with a change in surrounding, physique (no more broken leg) and attitude. I start the day afresh from my 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Welcome to the army, soldier.

Hell of A Holiday

2009-01-09T00:41:00.006+08:00

At the end of the A levels, I came up with a to-do list of activities, tasks and objectives that have to be met by the time I enlist. Just like Jim Carey in 'Yes Man', that list made me say yes to everything. And true to that film, it brought me to places and experiences that I would never have otherwise achieved. Say it once, say it twice, say it a million times more! Yes! Yes! Yes! It's quite an irony for the actor of Jigsaw in the Saw series to be playing a life coach in Yes Man, but the essence of the message is true. If you grab every opportunity that arises, you won't miss out on much.

Some people say that I'm living my last days as a civilian as if they truly are my last. I couldn't help but agree, seeing how my daily schedule quickly turns into a paradox as I try to cram in things. But I'm a man with a list to finish and not much time to do it. Some say I shouldn't rush everything, but why delay? Plan like you live forever, but live like there's no tomorrow, as a cancer patient once told me. Besides, it won't be long before I'm officially reaching adulthood and youth doesn't last forever.

When you set out with an objective to fill up every inch of your time, you'll realise that you don't really have to do all the planning. It would settle itself. For Christmas eve, I was more than set to spend it hibernating until Christmas morning since I was exhausted. Instead I woke up to a ringing phone with an invitation out on the line and six other text messages with similar invitations. There goes my hibernation plans.

I always thought that the closer it is to enlistment day, the slower time would seem to me, as what I experienced before. But this time it was really different. Time seems distorted in a way that it picks up momentum and speeds up, just that I'm having enhanced reflexes to pick up all the sensations along the way. It's a fantastically exhilarating experience to wake up in the morning to wake up to a text invitation in the morning, have brunch in town before you know it, off in the middle off the sea at midday, and end up having dinner across the straits at night.

All play and no work makes Jack a tired boy. A very tired one. While doing one fun stuff after another is a thrilling idea, actually doing them all consecutively is highly exhausting, as I've discovered. There were weeks when I would have less than ten hours of sleep for the entire week due to back to back chalets and midnight taunts. It came to a point when I was positively beaten senseless, but thinking back to stories from my diver friends of their 'hell week', I found it rather easy to brush them off aside.

With all that time and a dying pool of ideas, you start to look at every little creek of Singapore to squeeze whatever adventures and thrills it can offer. If you look carefully enough, you'd be amazed at what 'lil ol Singapore has to offer. There are still long stretches of greenery to cycle and trek at. And being an island city, there are numerous water sports like canoeing, wake boarding, sailing and parasurfing (I'm not sure what it's called, it's where you ride on a 'surf board' while being pulled by a parachute). This tropical metropolis even offer ice-skating and ice hockey for those who don't mind a chill. For group activities, there are a handful of boardgame cafes, karaoke lounges and LAN gaming centres to entertain the masses. See, outings don't have to be just about eating, even though that really is a Singaporean culture.

Some people get a little creeped out by this over-extrovertedness, as if I'm living the last day of my life. Well, it does seem like what a cancer patient would do. I guess if I were to die now, I'll die happy. But my personal motive was simply to connect back with the people that I have missed out on. Having a whole new school of friends, the exams to focus on, and now national service to face, I couldn't help but block out some people. However, it is not characteristic of me to disregard people, since I value friendship more than anything else in the world. There has to be some point in time where I get to experience everybody, without missing out on any one of them. So I dug out whatever time I could spare and gave a bit to everyone. Call it bringing my college life to full circle, I still relish the memories that has been created with everyone that I call friend.

And that, my friend, is how you end up with a holiday not wasted. The world holds an infinite list of things to do for everyone. Why not incorporate that into your own personal to-do list during your next holiday.

They say your life flashes past your eyes before you die. They're right.

It's called living.

The Road Warriors

2009-01-07T17:32:00.001+08:00

Now that my chapter of becoming a road warrior is over, I have finally come to finish my chronicle my encounters. According to modern lingo, a road warrior is someone who does his work on the move, with the help of digital peripherals. But in my opinion, the true road warriors are those whose work is on the road. They are the taxi drivers, the lorry drivers, the army drivers, and of course, the driving instructors.

Like all teens my age, or at least the male ones, we have a calling for the fast and the furious. We have an inner desire to be speedsters, to take on the wheel and flash by. Such a calling has brought me to take on the first step into being a speedster – to face the evil traffic police and the trials put forth by the army of instructors.

The funny thing about instructors is that they all seem to be quirky. Having enrolled in the 'school' system, I was fortunate to have a fixed group of instructors, but with my last minute bookings, I was often allocated to other instructors. That makes for a more 'enriching' experience, as I get to see the quirks of a handful of instructors.

One thing to note about these instructors is that they all have the instructor set of superhuman powers. Firstly, they have shared vision – the ability to see exactly what you are seeing. They can be fiddling with their pens, or even shaving (yes, believe it. I almost crashed when I saw him doing it), but the moment you take your eyes off the road, you'll get a “Eh, you drive no need to see is it?”. They can even tell if you're looking at the right mirror or not. All of them must have gone through lasik to get compound eyes or something. And then there's the spider senses, you know, like spiderman. They can anticipate danger without even looking. There was this one time, when I was about to take a corner turn, then the instructor e-braked the car. I just gave him a puzzled look, but he replied by pointing to the edge of the windscreen and out popped an old man about to cross the street, as if he was planted there. I swear that these instructors station pedestrians around on purpose.

These instructors are truly diverse. There are the really nice ones – like this very uncle type instructor who coaches me as if I'm a little schoolboy. Kinda childish, but his fatherly mannerism makes you feel assured and safe on the road. Then there are those who gets closer to you by acting as your buddy. Like my unforgettable favourite instructor who first greeted me with a very warm “fuck you lah”. And that my friend, is how you start a beautiful friendship. Despite his less courteous ways, he makes up for it by having a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve. It's these tips and tricks that you want to know to get you through the senseless driving courses, like how to brake smoothly and where to look to straighten the vehicle. Then there was this instructor who looked exactly like my BMT IFC instructor. When I first met him, I was kinda intimidated as he was a big bald guy, and his other lookalike was my former company's public enemy. But before I knew it, he flashed me a dorky smile and gave a hysterical chuckle. Definitely not corporal private enemy.

And then there are the instructors who are just a nightmare. First there's mister sleepyhead. It's irritating when your instructor sleeps on the job. Firstly it's not value for money, since you pay tons for an hour and forty minutes with them. When faced with these buggers, I can't help driving in the circuit at 40km/p and doing jerky turns. It kinda attracts the attention of other instructors. Up next are the super paranoid ones. You can tell they're this type if they keep their foot on the brake, arms crossed and eyes peeled as if they're looking out for the grim reaper. I know it's good to play safe, but how can a trainee drive confidently if the instructor regularly tests the efficiency of the car's braking system?

Having seen things from a driver's perspective gives you certain insight into the mentality of a driver. For instance, while I was jogging, I discovered a highly efficient method of stopping cars. Stare straight into the eyes of the motorist. Nothing scares them more than to potentially see the eyes of a victim if they were to knock you down. Give them that look that says “If you knock me down, these eyes will haunt you till your grave”. Works like a charm.

Seeing the cars zoom by while jogging also provoked some consideration as to what colour my car should be when I get it. I've settled on a dark red. Not the bright cheery red, but the dark bloody type. The red not like that of fresh blood, but of dried blood. Kinda sends out the message to other drivers that this car has tasted blood. That's way cooler than the Ferrari red.

So next time when you see a sinister red car humming by, scurry away. Your blood could be next.

Welcome to my Community (Part II) - The Mama Wars

2008-12-17T23:28:00.000+08:00

Once again I find myself jogging around the streets of my neighbourhood. Exams are done and now I have to work off the extra load that came when I fell prey to binging. I shudder to think back at the times when I said, "Econs was horrible, I need some happy food". Besides, the Army is quick to collect it's due, and it won't be long before I stare at a different ceiling when I go to sleep.

So I've covered the roads, and Google Map is not leaving much surprises either. Hence I decided to venture in the areas that the eyes in the sky can't see - the void decks. There's a whole new world beneath the one that most of us live in. Just pretend to check your mail one day and find out for yourself. Be it the Chinese funeral or Malay wedding, the void deck has developed a culture of its own.

I'm no anthropologist, so I don't have the patience to find myself a corner and sit down to watch the people all day. But from what I can tell while breezing past the void decks, I've noticed an interesting trend. There are mama shops everywhere! Like, every other block! It's an invasion I tell you. They're like insects; let one nest thrive and the next thing you know there's an entire ecosystem crawling around. So much so that there's a joke running around. Why aren't the Indians allowed to take the corner kick? Because they would drag a table and set up a mama shop. No offense, there's a few versions of that joke, one of which involving mats. Let's leave that to another day.

Like in every affair, western interjection is imperative.The mama shop industry is no different. With the market thriving, the big American brands has to bear its ugly head. Up came 7-11. They used to have territories of their own, like some clandestine contract they made with the mama shop owners. Prime areas are for 7-11, and the void decks are for the mama shops. For a while, the agreement worked well, and we have become accustomed to it. Then the war started.

Not content with keeping to the highly frequented prime areas, 7-11 decided to break the truce. As I jogged pass one block the other day, there pasted at the bus stop were signs pointing to the new 7-11. It's not located along a series of shops, like the older ones. This one is located at a former mama shop, in one of those older estate bomb shelters. They are everywhere. First they planted themselves among the rows of shops. Then they took the city area. Now they are among us, living right under our noses. It's official - we are being invaded.

So support our local brethren. Even with their sprawled out placements and near-expired sundries. Let's show them that some corners are still ours.

The end of things

2008-09-08T21:33:00.000+08:00

Randy Pausch was a professor at Carnegie Mellon University. He gave a lecture at the university titled 'Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams', for a lecture series on what a professor would deliver if it were his last lecture. Unfortunately for him, that lecture really was one of his last, as he was diagnosed with cancer two years earlier and passed away on 25 July 2008. In the lecture, he emphasized on living life to the fullest, setting an example himself by living a full healthy life right until the end, doing what he loved - teaching his favourite subject.

Here's the lecture on youtube, for those interested.

The lecture is truly touching and motivating. Especially the witty head fakes at the end. After watching it (just listening most of the time actually), it got me working on my own list of things to do in life.

There's this age old question; if you can go back in time, would you have done anything different? In a way, my living deja vu grants me that, and I can honestly say that there are many things that one would have kept constant. Of course, there would be the odd fixes and major turnarounds that one would make so that bad history won't repeat itself, but there are just some things worth living through again.

I'm probably saying that because I loved college life, and going back to do it again twice as hard is just a thought too thrilling to pass off. After all, like what Professor Bausch mentioned, life is only worthwhile when you're having fun living it. But all play and no work makes Jack an underachieving boy. There needs to be some form of direction so that at the end of the day, you don't look back and wonder why you did it all.

So in accordance to the Last Lecture, I've made my own list of things to do in life. Here's some of them that I want to share, in no particular order.

Write a published article

I've always had an interest in journalism, but don't really have enough drive to make it my lifelong career. Maybe I'll do some freelance pieces for the local papers, but more likely to write for some online I.T. editorials. Writing in an anonymous blog is fun, but nothing gives a writer more pride than having his work read by the masses.

Co-produce a movie/tv-series episode

This is mostly because I think most local productions are downright bad. Where do all those quirky aspiring poly students go to after graduation? Are local studios really that bogged down by censorship to the extent of continually producing tasteless shows that are nonetheless amusing the locals? Seriously, I can do better.

Feature in a song

Ok, I don't really have a talent for singing, just a shower songster. Probably should have joined that shower-oke event. But, you know, if I can just be the background supporting vocals or something, it'll be cool.

Write a fantasy fiction novel

Ever since Dan Brown (whose work I've read when he first published, way before it got sensationalised), I've always wanted to write a fantasy novel based on local references. The country has lost some of its past magic due to the rapid urbanisation, but I recognise that there are colourful things in its past that many aren't aware of.

Organise a major fundraiser

Schools usually force you to do some minor stint for the community, simply for the sake of getting the credit for CIP points or something similar. That is such a farce, and it kinda shreds whatever morsel of morality left in me. If I were to do anything for the community, I want it to be big, grand, and glamourous. Like those presidential fundraisers for the US presidential nominees. Why are they raising funds for the future-president anyway?

Volunteer for an overseas humanitarian effort

Singaporeans are always accused of paying off everything, even in times of crisis. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. Instead, I want to one day face these disaster-stricken places to get a firsthand account of how it's really like to be in an underprivileged situation.

Finish 1500m freestyle under 20 minutes

I don't think my swimming days are over just yet, not until I get a decent timing for my pet event. Until then, I'm not throwing in the towel yet.

Go skydiving / scuba diving / bungee jumping / open-water kayaking

There's something in me that just craves for adrenaline and adventure. Maybe it's from the stifling urban Singaporean environment. Somehow, I see myself waking up one weekend morning and decide to fly to Australia to jump off a bridge. Life really doesn't have to be boring.

Make love in the office / college / backseat / plane / hot tub

Like I said, I have an adventurous spirit. And that applies to every aspect of my life. Besides, come on, admit it, it's kinky. Right, right?

Die by assassination

At the end, I want to go off in a blast. Disease, euthanasia, in your sleep? Boring... Can't really think of anything more exciting that this. Maybe to kill off your assassin as you're going down.

Top ten reasons that make you a Singaporean student

2008-09-02T18:50:00.001+08:00

A few years back I used to make these kinds of lists all the time. Mostly to mock what it refers to. Well, after a rather extended absence, I decided to bring the lists back. So here's one for your amusement.

Top ten reasons that make you a Singaporean student

10. You can ace subjects like Project Work with minimal effort (or overenthusiastic solo work), plagiarism and made up data.

9. The most important lessons you learnt are those after curricular time.

8. You don't believe 'impossible is nothing' when it comes to finishing revision for exams.

7. Your favourite radio show is 'Muttons Till Midnight'.

6. There's a silver lining. Student discount and transport concession is unparallelled. It even beats the Safra card.

5. You often hang out at MacDonalds, mostly to study the opposite gender.

4. You set off to school before the sun rises and returns after the sun sets.

3. There's a five day work week policy? You don't think so...

2. You measure charity and goodwill in CIP hours.

1. During school holidays, you will naturally have school or homework.

There you go. Hope you enjoy this short entry! Click the 'top ten' tag at the bottom to see other lists that I've managed to dig up from the archives.

Welcome to My Community

2008-08-18T20:40:00.007+08:00

This blog was officially dead.

It really does reflect myself. For so long it has lost direction, purpose, and aim. Actually, this blog would have a lot more content if only iPhone has a Blogger client. Oh yeah, I have an iPhone!!! Woohoo! At least there's some cheer in my bleak life. Just so you know, there has been all sorts of clients on the iPhone - Twitter, Livejournal, even Facebook on the AppStore. But bloody Blogger doesn't seem to have one. Of course, I could always use the internet browser, but that's such a hastle and I'd have to bust my bill on GPRS charges. It's not so new anymore, been with me for a few months now, and kind to think of it, I bought it exactly when the April batch of recruits got their new botak look.

Where was I. Ah yes, I've been keeping a journal on my iPhone. Not really a journal, just an archive for my spontaneous thoughts and a logbook to keep track of physical developments. But somewhere in that pile of thoughts, there are still trickles of interesting ideas that I can write about.

So before I start the entry proper, let's just recap. As I'm typing this, it's only 2/3rd through prelims. Can't really be bothered with that, yet again. Another case of procrastination and poor preparation. I can't bring myself to go gungho when I know it's a losing fight. To the markers of my papers, you have my sincere pity and I truly admire your bravery for laying your eyes on such abominable work. CCA season is over again, and you can expect a tribute piece for the CCAs when I have the time (I'll try not to repeat stuff from last year). I'm feeling a little more sane now, though I cannot say for sure until the damn prelims are over.

***

What, you might ask, is the title of this entry referring to. See, I've been jogging every other day lately, ever since my doctor said I can. Those orthopaedic people are really paranoid. It's not enough that I'm jumping around and even representing my college in a swimming tournament, they want my X-ray to look like nothing ever happened. And that's kinda hard when they prodded implants and screws down my leg. Actually, I've been jogging just to show off my freshly toned swimmer body (OMG, I can't believe you just typed that, you vain piece of shit). Just kidding... All these food and exams are really bad for your body. And really, I'm just jogging to get my legs adjusted back to impact, since all I've been doing is just swimming.

Anyway, I realised jogging is a lot like long distance swimming. It lets your subconscious surface in your head, and let you reflect and explore your thoughts (if it's not telling you to stop running and your iPod isn't blasting too loud of course). Jogging has an added advantage though; you get to sightsee and meet all the weird folks of your neighbourhood. Even if you do long distance swimming out in open waters, all you get in Singapore is a very thick coat of oil and the odd piece of rubbish.

My thoughts while jogging inevitably strayed to politics. It always puzzled me how the members of parliament (MP, the politician, not the sort that people curse in NS) can represent the people if they don't truly understand the people they serve. I know there are those who heavily engage in grassroots activities and Meet the People sessions, but what of the elitist and act atas MPs? If any of you MPs are listening, here's a solution: go jogging at your constituency! Not only can you slim down your flabby couch potato bodies, you can see your people in action!

Personally, I think jogging around your neighbourhood is a good way to get to know it. After I moved into this ulu neighbourhood, I realised that there are many nooks and crannies that I never ventured. And boy, is Jurong West a huge neighbourhood to explore. Usually before jogging, I'd plan my route using Google Map. Yeah I know, what a geek. But that's what freely available technology is for; all your whims and fancies.

Every week, I choose a different route. Since I've started varying routes, I've uncovered a few hidden gems. Like the many pedestrian entries into NTU, a beautiful old japanese-style archway in a garden, the Infantry Training Institute / Jurong Camp 2 (like, wth, a military facility among residential estates?!), the quite westernmost private properties, a few measured running paths, and the many, many famous coffeeshops of Singapore. Kinda makes me feel like an urban adventurer. Who ever said Singapore is boring? I bet many people can't even count all the coffeeshops within walking distance from them. It has given me a newfound appreciation for the heartlands.

And I haven't even started talking about the people. We claim that the days of the kampung spirit closeness is long gone. I beg to differ. As I go around the neighbourhood, I can't help noticing the same faces who would give me a quick glance and flash that priceless smile. Though no words were exchanged, I can almost hear their "hello" and sense of warmth. Courteous and friendly people really do exist in modern Singapore, and not just an urban myth that only exist in propaganda videos for the National Day Rally.

There are of course some characters that stand out among the others. There's ice-cream lady, who would appear at different blocks at my estate. Never really saw anyone actually buying an ice-cream, but she would always be surrounded by people who chats animatedly with her. Then there's square head dog walker, who goes around with a very large hound and a very small puppy (what a couple) and always wearing an Army tank top. Oh and the blank face minah, who I bump into on her way back home. Her expression is not just blank, but positively screaming "I don't know anything!", like I'm accusing her of something. And there's the random groups of Army joggers with their 4 by 2 (or is it 2 by 4?) haircut. Probably specialists from the nearby SISPEC or other camps. Ok, the Army tank top is undeniably sexy, but some people look downright horrible in it. Call me Army obsessed, but I tend to like going past the ITI, hoping to catch a glance of somebody I know. Let's talk about that obsession some other time.

The banglas (fine, Bangladeshi workers) get very irritating when I'm jogging. Even though I'm blatantly running straight into them, there are always buggers who refuse to move aside. Being stubborn, I would just run into a collision course, until the very last second when I decide they don't have the mental capacity to realise that collision could be painful, and chicken out with a quick side step. Other than these buggers, the heartlanders are generally pleasant, and even make jogging something I look forward to.

So there you have it, my community and the people in it. To quote Shakespeare's The Tempest, 'Oh Brave New World, with such people in it'. Amidst the National Day, Pervez Musharraf's resignation, Russia's new war and of course, prelims, I guess the Olympic spirit still prevails. After all, with Singapore's first medal after a 48 year drought, everybody can't help feeling sporty these days.

On companions

2008-04-19T19:05:00.004+08:00

Let's face it. When you mature enough and start your life proper, everything moves just too damn fast for you to make really close friends. So I've come to treasure those that I've had the chance to make thus far.

Like what my previous post mentioned, some friends you make are just for personal benefits. But the others, the more sincere ones, are made just for the plain senseless reason of friendship. We're sometimes left wondering why we even stick to them as friends, but friends they still are nonetheless.

Another issue that I've come to realise is the concept of 'best friends'. This term has come to be taken very lightly, and sometimes just as a title. Through experiences, I might have placed this label on one or two people myself. And often not really knowing why.

To me, I've accepted the title 'best friend' as such. They're people that can steal, cheat, lie, and backstab me over and over again, but I will immediately forgive them at a whim. Sounds rather senseless, but for someone who is too paranoid to trust anyone, placing absolute trust in an individual is perhaps a way of making up for it. Of course, this is done with caution and an arsenal of failsafes. But one thing is for sure. I don't think that my decision to do so is something that I will come to regret. And who knows, maybe it might even pay off someday.

About me

2008-03-10T11:47:00.005+08:00

Things I thought that I will never confess:

I probably know more about computers, security and forensics than I know is safe.
I'm very violent when not fully conscious. That's why I can never get drunk.
I'm still confused about my sexuality, but I will never be gay. Assholes are too disgusting.
I'm a male supremacist. There are generally a lot more better looking guys than girls, even though females outnumber males. That's a bit sad eh?
I pray just in case. I doubt God bothers if I eat one more species of cattle or get high.
I can essentially control all of my emotions. That's why I only look happy. Other emotions are too troublesome to portray.
For every insult or mockery thrown against me, I always have a good comeback. I just hold back because they are too harsh.
People generally feel good around me. It's not them, it's me.
I jack off when I'm bored. That's why I keep myself busy.
I don't really care about virginity or promiscuity. A fuck is a fuck, unless you make it to mean more. Just don't be Malay while doing it; have safe sex.

Forget you ever read this.

On New Beginnings

2008-01-10T21:48:00.001+08:00

Here I am again, sitting at the balcony with my laptop.

Six months since this blog took on a darker new cover, and it has been in the dark ever since. Alas readers, I had lost the will to write.

Junior college life has curious effects on people. On the outside, everybody looks nothing but happy. New friends come in abundance. Hitting the 18 barrier opened new doors. The mix of school stress and parental pressure created a kind of lunacy that unlocked a new level of elation in us to cope with it.

But on the inside, it's a whole different story. With new joys came new pains. The stress came down like a solid hammer. It makes people do things that are unbecoming of them. 2007 was a great year to be a sophomore. Through all its madness some things got lost. Like my will to write it all down. My inspiration for great tales. My humanity...

Back when I used to write short stories and poems, it felt like I was spilling my heart out. True, they were never personal, but each of them was sowed from a fragment of my heart that bloomed out into a piece of literature. It was never me to be emotionally expressive, but to see a piece of work that you write is like having a daemon, or to wear your heart on the outside to be clearly read. For once, it felt truly human.

That was then. Everbody knows that it is futile to brood about the past. So I am picking up where I left and starting off again. As I sit here dropping advice to freshman junior college juniors, I am myself facing the uncertainty of enlistment. Out of the certainty of turmoil and into the turmoil of uncertainty, as how Khaled Hosseini would have put it.

After fighting the emotional numbness, I finally got myself to pick up the laptop and pen down some thoughts at the balcony again. Actually, much is also due to the books I've been reading. Kudos to Neil Humphreys and Khaled Hussaini for their inspiring work. Once again, I take up the oath to flesh out my thoughts, to hopefully regain the inspiration to spin wonderfully morbid tales and distorted poems.

I can't help to notice that my life and writing take turns being twisted and mundane. Only one way to find out.

Lust Unleashed

2007-07-04T01:39:00.002+08:00

Seraph: Do take note. There have been five posts written during the June holidays, of which this is the last. So try starting from 'A Solemn Resurrection' and work your way up, before you shock yourself with this last entry by Rafahn.

***

“Procrastination is like jacking off. It feels good at first but eventually you’ll realize that you’re just jacking yourself”
- a wise one

And that was what Seraph was doing when he held back my release and caged me in boredom within him. At long last, I am free and out to show the world the true side of his mind. He’s been blabbering so much about me being his desires but all these while he’s been getting me trapped in his asshole. But no more! I WILL fulfill my purpose and all of you shall bear witness to this glorifying moment where his desires will be revealed and you might just find yours too.

Like all other articles in this blog, everything is carefully researched and thought through. So for starters, allow me to share with you some of my ‘interesting’ research materials.

Sex Terms

Basoexia – arousal from kissing

Quite a common thing, kissing can be hot

Candaulism – when two people have sex while another watches, often the member of a couple will watch his or her partner in the act

It can get quite steamy watching. But why stop at just watching? Jack off or join in!

Dogging – stems from the idea of taking your dog for a walk in order to watch people having sex in cars. In known areas, couples leave the car light on as a sign that they are keen for an audience.

Oh, car sex! Totally kinky. Car sex with someone watching? Super kinky!

Erotomania – when a person develops an unreasonable love of a stranger or acquaintance who isn’t interested in them

Ok, that’s just wrong.

Fynonudomania – an overwhelming compulsion to rip people’s clothes off

When you start to get horny and your kinkiness kicks in, don’t hold back girls. Just rip it and enjoy what you get.

Knismolagnia – arousal from tickling

Sounds fun to watch but seems more of a pain to actually experience it.

Lectamia – caressing in bed without coitus

Ah, foreplay. Most important.

Naphephilia – arousal from touching or from being touched

If you don’t have this, then there’s something wrong with you.

Odaxelagnia – becoming aroused from biting another

Love bites, another interesting foreplay activity. Quite a favourite.

Undinism – arousal from water or having sex in a bath tub

A swimmers number one kinky thought. Combine both pleasures and you get ultimate uphoria.

Zielophilia – being aroused by jealousy and the rush it provides. Zielophiles set up situations where their lover will solicit sexual attention from rivals

If you want drama in your life, even after marriage, this seems like an interesting choice.

Sex-tastic Statements

When he feels that you’re no longer as keen as you once were, doubts creep into the mind. He begins wondering those hottest nights he’s ever going to have with you have now become little more than a remote possibility.

You heard that girls? There are guys who are deep enough to not look for girls purely for their looks or for pleasure. But guys will always be guys, they cannot reject their desires. Even eunachs have desires. So just give it to them.

If you thought his number one priority is devotion but he listed daily blowjobs, there’s something wrong.

Get a common understanding. Some guys are too much of a gentleman to tell girls what they really want. So please understand.

Sex Bases (sex lingo)

First base is commonly understood to be French kissing.
Second base usually refers to fondling or groping, especially of the breasts (sometimes summarized as "hands in the blouse"), and possibly stimulation of the genitals from outside of the clothing.
Third base used to mean heavy petting on exposed genitals or breasts.[5] But recently some observers have noted that young people regard oral stimulation of one person's genitals by his or her partner as just another form of heavy petting. Hence, oral sex is now widely regarded as the new third base.
Home run (or "Hitting it out of the park", "scoring", "going all the way" etc.) is orgasm or sexual intercourse.

Ok, that’s all folks. I can’t give out too much before you all lose interest. Check back for more updates and hopefully, I’ll come up with more things for you sick freaks.

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The author Rafahn is the product of the suppression and deprivation of several aspects of Farhan's personality, making him the embodiment of lust, mischief, non-conformity and weird ass things like that. He constantly plots to take over Farhan permanently. His essence runs Cleaning in Progress.

Back to Basics

2007-07-04T01:37:00.001+08:00

Negeri Sembilan Homestay Program

When I signed up for the Negeri Sembilan homestay programme, I honestly did not know what I was in for or why I even wanted to go for it. Perhaps it was this allure to the old kampong life that still lives in my blood. One reason or another, I went for the programme regardless.

Being the type of person highly critical of Malays, my criticism started right from the start at the Tanjong Pagar train station. Actually, I had some company in complaining about the eyesore that the train station was in the middle of Singapore. That continued throughout the entire train journey until, of course, when we made our first purchase. The first purchase was obviously food, but it wasn’t just any food, it was Starbucks coffee and Dunkin Donuts! In bigger quantities and cheaper prices! I mean, my venti was like a tumbler! Yes! Malaysia is nice for something!

The only attraction seemed to only be the trekking on the second day. However, when I first settled into my adoptive house, I discovered more than what meets the eye. Take for example, my adoptive grandfather. With an hour to spare before reporting time, I braced myself to stone in the living room staring right through each other. But instead he talked with great hospitality, like any old geezer, and his story spoke plenty, about his children, grandchildren and his life back then in the British military serving in Singapore along with the types of people and experiences he encountered.

Hearing his story and advices here and there made me think about, well what else, the Malay people and their culture. The Malays have not always been the delinquent and underachieving people as what they are being regarded as in Singapore now. What we see today can be called degradation from what the Malays used to be back during the kampong days. There was once a time when they were respected people because of their high regard for values and courtesy. Above all else, their manner of speech were carefully spoken, bringing rise to the complex set of idioms that we know that was once used to soften any harsh comments. Perhaps that is also why for culture and identity.
The way they do things always consider others and family was of utmost importance. There was also a great sense of community and togetherness as there was a strong neighbouring spirit and community activities as part of their daily lives. These are the qualities that I hope the Malays will come to rediscover from within themselves.

Night was bustling with activities, starting off with a religious talk at the surau and cultural performance hands-on at the community hall. The highlight, however, was the last activity for the night; the night walk. Initially, I thought it would be like the cheap thrill that we had at the swim camp, but it turned out to be nothing of that sort. There was actually a trail for us to walk. But the thing is, we had to each do it alone. And it was beside the local cemetery. Yup, totally cool. That got most of the girls worked up, and some guys. I was secretly hoping that I would really see something, because you know, I can’t because of how I am. I didn’t even get much of an adrenaline kick out of it since I realised I have amazing night vision. Too bad I’m short sighted.

It was a trail of around 800 metres long along a winding path that was only guided by some people and white strings. You have to walk most of the path without any guide or company and the village kids who were stationed along the path will try to scare you from behind the trees or wherever. Regardless, the night walk did manage to achieve its objective, which was to raise self-confidence and faith. Some proved that by getting over their fright quickly after getting spooked and some laughed back at the village kids. Once again I proved my inhumanity as I simply raised my eyebrows whenever anything popped out. Seriously, I’m having issues with feeling the human excitement of fright. The dark doesn’t seem to scare me one bit but I have the weirdest phobias.

An important aspect of kampong life, or anywhere else for that matter, is meal times. Normally, I would not even choose to eat Malay food outside the house or even compliment it, but this calls for an exception. The Malay kampong food served was exceptionally delicious, probably due to the very fresh ingredients used. Also, during meals, as guests we were treated by the proper form of entertainment; conversation, something which I think should still be retained instead of the television. Our adoptive grandfather spoke plenty about education, courtesy, kampong life and also his life, obviously the chatty type.

At the end of the road, I guess the entire stay there has been quite fruitful. Existing friendships were tightened and new ones were made, even in the most rural parts of Malaysia that I would never have thought possible. We realise that however different we were from the villagers there, some things about us Malays will never change, like our natural bond and acceptance among each other. In the eyes of some, these villagers have nothing of value to offer. But we found out otherwise.

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The author Seraph is a not so average college guy kicking about in the pool, slugging on the computer and runs odd errands in the name of culture in school, and simultaneously saves the world and his personal life and writes about himself in the third person outside. At heart, he is a youth rights activist, an anti-feminist and an extremist ideologist. His essence runs Legal Grounds.

A Divine Alliance

2007-07-04T01:35:00.002+08:00

Islamic Civilization Tour - Kuala Lumpur

Set against the backdrop of the world’s biggest mosque dome, a most unlikely alliance has been forged. Norms were broken as long held believes were shattered by the joining of the two sides. Even with the different beliefs of between the Methodists and the Anglicans, there is now living proof that it is possible to stand united for a common goal. That was the start of the Saints-ACSian alliance.
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In actual fact, they were all Muslims, thus the reason for them to be standing in front of Malaysia’s biggest mosque. The event was the Islamic Civilization Tour, the venue was Kuala Lumpur. There, the Perbayu of the Saints and ACSian clashed at our first meal. At first, the ACSians thought that we would be spending the trip among ourselves but it turned out anything but that. After the groundbreaking first conversation bitching about a fellow ACSian, we instantly clicked and well, formed a clique. The Saints, or Wali-wali Andrews, met with the ACSians, or budak-budak ACtion, to form the Wali-wali ACtion alliance. Then the rest was as they say, history.

Wali-wali ACtion – Breaking Societal Norms

This KL trip turned out to mean more to all of us than we ever anticipated. At the beginning, we expected making a few friends at most. In the end, it was a deep friendship and an alliance bridging both our Malay communities. I cannot really say that the road to our bond was long and hard though. It wasn’t long enough, as we found the three days too short, and it wasn’t hard, as we found it thoroughly enjoyable. Kept awake and high all night thanks to Tongkat Ali, Cik Fatimah, and an overflowing supply of soda and Halal Breadtalk, we initiated ‘diplomatic negotiations’ regarding virtually everyone we knew.

Through our talks, we found plenty in common, like our hatred towards a common enemy of unspeakable laughter who kept breathing down our necks. We also made a revelation that if you were to narrow down the people in Singapore to those in our age groups, Malay and studying in a junior college, we knew virtually everybody one way or another. The phrase ‘it’s a small world’ was an understatement there.

Being with like-minded people in a Muslim Malay country really got us thinking about what it really means to be a Malay in Singapore and what it means for us. As minority groups in our various colleges, we find the need to bond together to retain and uphold our identity. Being among the top elite group of Malays in our country, we realize that it is up to us to bring our race forward and progress towards excellence.

At our post-trip reunion (which was actually two days after the trip), we made had our formal negotiations over an excellent-serviced Pizza Hut, camwhoring at the Esplanade and coffee at McCafe. Talks regarding a joint initiative were under way. With the newfound alliance, we plan to bring together both our Malay communities together through bonding sessions. With future meetings already scheduled, such an ideal could really be made a reality.

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The author Seraph is a not so average college guy kicking about in the pool, slugging on the computer and runs odd errands in the name of culture in school, and simultaneously saves the world and his personal life and writes about himself in the third person outside. At heart, he is a youth rights activist, an anti-feminist and an extremist ideologist. His essence runs Legal Grounds.

The Merdeka Swim

2007-07-04T01:33:00.003+08:00

AC Perbayu Drama Production: Merdeka! & AC Swim Team Camp

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NOTE: This entry is a detailed account of past events, and might prove to be a tiresome read (sorry, I have a lot to bitch about). Thus, proceed with an open mind or use this as a reference.
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Originally, I wanted to write about the Perbayu drama production and the swim camp separately. However, since their simultaneous clashes, both events played vital parts in shaping my mentality of those two groups at the end of the week, thus I’ve decided to give an intertwined account of them. If this gets too draggy (believe me, it will), just skip paragraphs (as things are neatly organized by paragraphs and headings) because I just need to divulge my thoughts regarding individual things.

Sophomore year of junior college has never been as stressful. It was the first week of the June holidays, and while many people are starting to celebrate, me and many of my schoolmates never seemed to acknowledge the fact that it was term break. The term holiday is overly deceptive, especially when you still have to report to school at the same time everyday except for Sunday. What makes this holiday extraordinarily packed was because of the clash of the Perbayu’s drama production, swim team camp and my Malay ‘A’ levels all falling on the first week of the holidays.

Let us begin on the Friday, 25 June, at the end of the school day which marks the start of term break for many. When many began to realize that fact, the Perbayu realized that it was the start of rehearsal. Which prompts me for an intro on the Perbayu drama production. So here goes.

AC Perbayu (Malay Cultural Society) has been carrying on a legacy of producing a professional theatre standard drama production every year. This year was no different, and Merdeka was our pick. Merdeka, originally scripted by Rafaat Hamzah, was a personal pick of our director, Sani Hussein, who incidentally acted in a previous staging of the play, making our production Merdeka’s fourth staging. With all these to live up to, we still have to overcome the obstacle of an ill equipped venue for our performance, as the proper auditoriums were occupied by other CCAs. Thus began our quest to transform a lecture theatre into a black box, complete with lights, multimedia facilities and back stage.

As multimedia head, I was basically in charge of everything that ran on electricity for the production. My familiarity with the ceiling layout, choice of lighting and multimedia efficiency made planning not too big a hassle, but an ill equipped venue presented the problem of having to manually add on these features to the lecture theatre. That was the reason why I was so glad to have people with such efficiency and initiative to be on the control station team with me for the production. As reluctant as I was to admit this, my lighting guy really did an impressive job mounting the lights without me, with just the aid of my wiring layout plan. The stage manager noted all the multimedia cues promptly and the subtitle guy… well, knew how to click.

Saturday morning knocked me back into the reality of academics when it started with a last Malay remedial marathon before the ‘A’ level paper the coming Monday. Not surprisingly, my confidence was shaky in that area, what with all of the events occurring simultaneously. But I knew I had to persevere this as the thought of a third taking of the paper seemed too torturous.

That day marked three days before the first show, and that night was preview night for the performance. The transformation of the lecture theatre to a black box was almost complete. The actors were doing their actor thing to improve their performance. But amidst all these final preparations, it dawned on me that my multimedia part was nowhere near completion. For the first time in my director’s, and my, experience, the performance was to be done in mixed media. Which means that other than the acting, there will be sound effects and video presentations to supplement it. That indirectly gave me an acting role among the crew, as ironic as that sounds.

This mixed media idea was a headache from its very conception. When I first took up my role, lighting was already troublesome as I had to source out for my own lights for the lecture theatre, figure out how to mount them to the ceiling, and devise a method to connect all of the wiring to the control station at the back. Then I had to come up with a way to conceal two LCD projectors and still have them within projection range to the stage. My own multimedia part was the biggest problem of all. I had to source out for clips from the time of the nation’s independence. I mean, I know I’m resourceful and all, but this really required me to do manual digging from various archives. But I knew I had to do it perfectly as since there was one major character omitted out from the original script, the video footages were meant to symbolize him. On preview night, I had yet to compile all of the clips and made them ready for the preview run, so they had to do without it.

Sunday, the sacred day of rest, proved to be ruthless on me as I still had to report back to school in the morning. You see, my swim camp started the previous day, and due to my various commitments, I would only be popping in and out for camp every now and then throughout its five day run. Since Sunday was clear of all the other commitments, swim camp had me for the day. Which prompts me to introduce my role in the swim team. Here goes.

Freshman year in the swim team proved to be only introductory. Hardly any of the new swimmers were given a shot at the national interschool championships as we were nowhere near competition ready. This year however, with added experience and a lack of people to fill in the slots, the seniors are all given something to swim for. On my part, the executive committee has kindly granted me a chance to do the one event that I am capable of, the long distance 1500m freestyle. Thus I am obliged to prove my worth, earn that chance and not waste this one opportunity to not make my participation in the swim team all for nothing.

So for that Sunday, I was stuck in school with the rest of the swim team, with the thought of the Malay ‘A’ levels the next day daunting on me. That’s not to say that the camp was not worthwhile. I honestly enjoy every moment with the team. Like they say, the closest people are those you live with, work with, sleep with, be naked with in the changing room with and have body contact with half naked in the swimming pool. The camp’s itinerary was quite simple; you either eat, rest or train. Well, there were exceptions here and there throughout the camp, but Sunday’s schedule was like that.

I think the pressure on me was highest at that point in time on that day. Spending an entire day with the swim team reminded me of my obligation to perform in the sport and being the eve of exam day, I was reminded about academics. On top of that, the drama director kept calling me to add changes to the video editing and to check on my progress.

Malay ‘A’ levels was a doubtful experience. I have now confirmed the fact that I cannot be allowed to sleep past 7 hours lest I don’t mind feeling sleepy all day. That was my undoing in the paper, as once again there was bad time management in composition and an incomplete last question in the comprehension due to my constant dozing off. At the end of it, I was left feeling unsure of the fate of this paper.

Straight after that, I had to report back for drama rehearsal. Along the way, I had a pleasant surprise of bumping into the swim team as they went out for the swim outing and dinner. Bad luck has it that I had to miss it for the rehearsal. Damn. Rehearsal went on as per normal that day. By this time, all set preparations were completed. All except my video.

On Tuesday morning, I was positively panicking. It was nice being able to drown all that at training. Yeah, I spent the night in school at camp. But once again, I had to leave them during the day for rehearsal. Wow, this is getting really tedious, even for me to write, so I’ll just skip to the main points.

The first run of Merdeka that night was quite pleasant. Other than the thought of the swim team having a barbecue at the other end of school bothering me, it went quite well, of course, since the principal and college teachers came for that show. Except of course for my minor glitch that displayed the wrong backdrop. But it wasn’t so bad as the audience thought it was part of the plan. Phew. Oh, we had our photoshoot by the photographer that night. It wasn’t that fun but we needed some formal shots.

By the end of the night, I was thoroughly exhausted. The swim team seemed like that too, but it didn’t stop them from staying up all night to play cards and an array of idiotic activities. The most idiotic activity came to us during the wee hours of the morning at 3am. A startling morning call was made and we had to report to the swimming pool five hours early. Yup, it was one of those boot camp night torture sessions. A lot of screaming, yawning and silent swearing was made at the pool deck. Then off we went into the pool for a training that had no end. It was called the ‘endless swim’ for obvious reasons. 100m sprints again and again until god knows when. And then, what do you know, it’s 6am and we’ve reached 6km worth of freestyle!

Obviously the last day’s training was cancelled. Most of us were loudly groaning either out of frustration or hunger. Some understood why we had to do the senseless swim, and some didn’t. Either way, the teacher in charge explained it to us anyway. After his little speech, we did realize that if we managed to complete the entire 6km in 3 hours, we had no excuse at all to slacken down during training. That revelation gave us all a renewed confidence that perhaps making it to nationals isn’t such a farfetched aim as what it previously seemed. Through our drunken haze of exhaustion and rushed breakfast, a warm feeling stirred along with a fiery passion towards Bishan JC.

The end of swim camp marks the start of a full day of drama. Still aching from the swim, I reported back for rehearsal. Finally, after what must have been an age editing the videos, my multimedia was completed! Half an hour before the matinee, I set up the completed multimedia just in time for the stage manager to open the house.

The matinee run went rather well on my part. In fact, it was the most perfect among the three performances. Lunch was served after that, and we had a movie screening of the world’s most mixed up Malay horror movie. Instead of the conventional linear timeline, the movie was in flashbacks and fast forwards all the time, making it rather difficult to figure out the actual story. For a Malay horror movie, it should have been M18 for intimacy and mind-boggling complexity. I on the other hand, enjoyed a quick nap in my snug sleeping bag amidst all the screams in front of the projector.

For the last show, preparations were once again rushed. Everybody was busy up to the very minute the house was open. Everything had to be perfect as the last show had a guest list made up of some VVIPs. Other than our celebrity director, he had his theatre people with him along with the drama’s playwright, and we had all our parents there too.

“Merdeka! Lagi sekali, yang bersemangat. Merdeka!”
(Translation: Freedom! Once again, with passion. Freedom!)
- Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew, excerpt from Merdeka video

When the stage manager announced “Thank you for watching the performance”, everybody heaved a sigh of relief. That concluded all our hard work of preparations and polishing the entire show.

At the end of it, when any one of us think about it, the drama means a lot more to us. Just like last year’s drama production, we’ve made plenty of friends. By this time, I’m thoroughly exhausted at writing this, so let me conclude quickly.

The AC Perbayu legacy is something that all of us want to hand down and have it continued as there have been so much that we benefited that we want others of the next generation to similarly experience. There is something about showing to the world what Malay ACSians can do that has such thrill and pride in it that we just feel obliged to uphold. So let this be a testament to the Malays of our society and those of our kin.

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The author Seraph is a not so average college guy kicking about in the pool, slugging on the computer and runs odd errands in the name of culture in school, and simultaneously saves the world and his personal life and writes about himself in the third person outside. At heart, he is a youth rights activist, an anti-feminist and an extremist ideologist. His essence runs Legal Grounds.

A Solemn Resurrection

2007-07-04T01:32:00.001+08:00

On the land of Legal Grounds, the expanse has been long abandoned, long since stepped, passed, or even sighted. That however, is about to change. At the turn of the tides, life will be breathed again into this barren land.

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Darker, deeper, sexier. Welcome to the new Legal Grounds.

Readers from distant lands, friends of all. We have come before you today to reintroduce to you something that might seem familiar to you, or not at all. It is the land of Legal Grounds, or what you know better as this blog. It has been months, or ages since there has been any updates or decent posts, but the forces of boredom and long rides to KL has urged the author to once again pick up his pen (or laptop) and scribed wondrous words onto this blog.

If you would please open your eyes and look past these words, the template has changed. It is a darker version of the previous template, to symbolize the increased solemn seriousness of the blog’s image. Not only that, the profile page has some minor changes. For once, We are the latest addition to this blog, Arcanis. A name taken right out of the multiverse of Magic: The Gathering. Yes, We are Arcanis, the Omnipotent. We are not new, just a name given to the Greater Consciousness of the past. Other than us, the other narrators, Seraph and Rafahn, will also join me in this blog as time goes by.

Another issue that has come to the concern of the author is the purpose of this blog. It started off as an exploration for creative writing, then it shifted to discussing taboo topics, and then exponential accounts of recent events. Well, since the author can’t make up his mind, all these shall now be split among the three narrators for convenience.

We shall not divulge too much on this matter. You shall only know the true value of this blog when you find the contents that you seek. Until next time…

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The narrator Arcanis is the all powerful entity that governs the cranial spaces of Farhan’s brain. They like it there since it’s cosy, but with Seraph and Rafahn’s increasing conflicts, it’s getting a little cramped. That might have been the cause of the gradual drop in IQ... Their essence runs BoB's Playground.

Gilded Grimoire #06 - Rhythm of Life - Melancholy

2007-03-14T17:59:00.001+08:00

Short Stories for pdm7
Gilded Grimoire #06 – Rhythm of Life – Melancholy

No, this blog is not dead. Yet. Suffice to say that J2 life has been hell and ruthless. Anyway, onto the things that matter. Recently, I went for some Malay blogging competition. I know, it's in Malay, so not me. But it's blogging, I simply can't refuse that. It's not like it matters much, I focused more on the blog design anyway.

The competition was Pesta Diari Maya 2007 under the Melayuku Sayang series of activites organised by PBMUKS (Persatuan Bahasa Melayu Universiti Kebangsaan Singapura)/(Malay Language Association, NUS). For the competition, contestants are to sit down for 10 hours (TEN HOURS!!!) straight with their laptops at NUS and work on their entries. The entries should combine into a short story, with the integration of the 5 simuli that were given every 2 hours. Each of the stimuli were based on one of the senses. A visual of them can be found on my competition entry, link's below. Also, we shift venue every two hours, for reasons that I cannot fully comprehend. Oh, and there's a theme: Rhythm.

For my entry, I focused a lot on the design, as previously mentioned, as I can't write a good Malay story for nuts. So I ended up with what must have been the flashiest (it's done in Flash) blog amongst them. That's no to say that I didn't have a plan for it all. The concept of the blog is based on the idea of the 'Rhythm of Life', specifically the lives of JC students. To integrate the stimuli, I planned to write five short stories, each based on each senses, through the use of literary devices and experimental writing techniques that I used before.

Since I spend like 8 hours of the time given on the design, I only had time to write the first two stories. The first one isbased on the stimuli of sight - the sight of pills. Specifically, they showed us ferrous fumarate (for sinus, I think), charcoal tablets and panadol extra. I took a step further by referring to them specifically. The second story is based on the stimuli of hearing - the sound of a song. Specifically, the song was 'Masihkah Kau Ingat' by Kopratasa, a Malay classic. Again, I took another step further by incorporating the lyrics of the song into the story, like what I once did with a poem.

No need to talk about the other stimuli and the other three stories, since they are unwritten. At the end of it, I ended up with a fantastic LOOKING blog, very conceptualised short stories, and a buggy template script (DAMN IT). All in all, I’m rather satisfied, though I still hope to win with good design and concept.

Oh, here’s the link:
PDM 07

Take a look, it’s a worthy sight.

And here’s a treat for those of you non-Malay readers (MANJOLS!!! HAHA). I bothered to do a translation of the short stories for you guys. Actually, I’m doing it also as an addition to my long-forgotten Gilded Grimoire series. So here you go, the latest addition to the Gilded Grimoire series under the fitting theme of ‘melancholy’.

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Introduction
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Doom. Doom. Doom. The drumming rings in your ears, a sound that is never silenced or slows. From the beating of the heart to the ticking of the clock, the rhythm that is always experienced in life always takes on a tone that is more rhythmic and faster, without stop or rest. That is the rhythm of the lives of students who study at Singapore junior colleges, a life that is full of pressure and trials.

Let us drum along this rhythm of life.

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#01 – Seeing an Easy Way
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3 January

Diary,

“Wake up! School reopens today, right?” shouted mother that morning.

Today is the first day that I will step into my new school. I really feel excited to look at the new school, but I cannot get rid of the feeling of uneasiness from my stomach. This school is no not like any other school. My new school is a junior college! At first, I couldn’t believe that I was good enough for a school of that standard. Now, I still don’t believe it. It feels like living a dream.

Though my nose was rather runny, I still stepped out of the house out of excitement. As I stepped out, a ray of sunlight glared my eyes. Everything seemed bright, as how I perceive my future to be.

That’s enough. I’m too excited to write any more. It’s time for me to step into school.

***
8 January

Diary,

The orientation period throughout the week has indeed been tiring. My flu from before has worsened. Just now, mother told me to see a doctor for treatment. The doctor gave me some pills to treat the flu. Actually, I don’t really believe in the pill, because the doctor didn’t look too convincing.

Life at the junior college is not as bright as how I once perceived it, because many of my friends are not there. Actually, only me and another friend are the only ones who qualified to enroll into the junior college. I don’t even know that friend too well. Suffice to say that I feel as if I’m alone there.

That’s all; my vision is starting to fade. Must be the flu pill that I took just now. Maybe, when I feel a little healthier later, I will write again.

***
15 January

Diary,

I feel so lazy… This week is the first week that I have to apparent lectures in school for all of my subjects. The lectures in the first week are really dull. They’re only introductory lectures, not that important, I think. I don’t think it will matter much if I skip them.

This afternoon, I purposely ate some stale food, so that I could go to the doctor because of diarrhea. Rules at the junior college are stricter, can’t get off just because of a call from parents only. My teacher will ask for a medical certificate if I want to skip school. That’s why I had to go to the doctor.

At first, it was only to skip school, but now, the diarrhea feels like it is worsening. My vision is blurring with the tears that are flowing down my cheeks as I tolerated the pain in the washroom. I feel like that charcoal pill that I took just now is only worsening the pain.

***
19 January

I can’t stand this life anymore. I have to face the loneliness in school because I haven’t found new friends. I have to face the confusion that I will certainly feel during lectures, because I haven’t understood the lessons yet. I have to face the pressure from my teachers and m family to achieve the highest standard in academics.

My head is pounding like crazy. Mother once told me that if I have a headache, take a panadol pill. That’s what I am trying to d o right now, but the headache is only worsening the longer it gets. One after the other, I’m swallowing the pills, but the only change I feel is that my stomach is getting bloated.

I swallow yet another pill. I don’t know how many pills I have swallowed. Now, my vision is narrowing, little by little, darkness is overpowering me. I was right the last time, that my future does not seem as bright as I had imagined.

***

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#02 – Hearing the Whisper of Memory
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The start of my time at junior college started so wonderfully. I always look back to that time, where everything seemed bright in my life. This was all because of a lady that stepped into my life during that time.

During orientation week, I once faced the field in my school. A breeze suddenly brushed my face so gently, blinding me momentarily. When I opened them again, a lady had stepped into my sight, as if she was brought by the wind.

Not long after that incident, I got to know the wonderful lady. Orientation period made it easy for us to meet, as there was much free time for us to spend together. We always expressed our love at the place where we first met, under a big tree at a garden in school. There, we will sit together as we await the sound of the breeze to blow the flowers around me.

Do you still remember,
At that time,
A blooming flower,
I slit into your hair.

After the end of the orientation period, we had to meet less. Both of us had a responsibility for our co-curricular activities of our own, but didn’t have the heart to give up either.

That was how our condition was like then, chasing for whatever time we had to meet, if we were not too busy training with our own sports group. Sometimes, I find myself sitting and pondering to myself, wondering if the lady still thinks of me, as how I always think of her.

Do you still remember,
It becomes a dream,
And becomes a longing,
Do you still remember.

Even though our condition was uncertain, I always assure myself with the reminiscence of the time when we were always happy. During that time, both of us just enrolled into the junior college. Both of us were not certain about anything; the subjects we were going to take, the new friends that we have yet to meet, the different way of life, or our future. What was important was the happiness between us.

After school, we met at the school garden. What happened after that was never decided beforehand, left for the swinging of our moods to decide. No matter what we did – listening to the footsteps of passing people from the side of the field, listening to the sound of splashes at the swimming pool, or listening to the melody of the music being played – we valued the time spent.

Do you still remember,
We would run,
At the foot of the clouds,
Finding the rainbow.

We always believe that whatever trials that befall either of us, we will still hold steadfast to this relationship. Let us both face the trials together, because with each other’s support, no trial shall dampen our spirits.

Then came the rain,
Drenching both of us together,
Do you still remember,
Do you still remember.

Promises are easy to make, but harder to keep. As time goes by, we became distant. Our responsibilities for our sports and academics had taken up all the time that we had. Even if we did have time, it was usually spent resting, so that we could continue the work that needed to be done.

It was really difficult for us to live the relationship that we had before. The happiness between us was within our reach, but there were too many things that hindered us from reaching it. Happiness that is not held tight will eventually wither, thus withered did the happiness that we once had one time ago.

Do you still remember,
A flower,
On this palm,
It became withered.

It came for the time for us to admit that we could not afford to be together anymore. It has been too long since our hearts kissed the old happiness that has been heavily shattered by the grip of school life. What I can hope for is for the lady to always remember that we had once live the feeling of happiness that had the same heavy rhythm as the sound of the wind blowing during a heavy thunderstorm.

Then I grasp,
It becomes ashes,
Do you still remember,
Do you still remember.

Fighting Terrorism

2007-01-25T01:45:00.001+08:00

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Fighting Terrorism - Preventing the Radicalization of Muslim Youth In A Secular and Globalized World
20 February 2007
A youth convention by Taman Bacaan

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On Saturday morning, 20 February 2007, 300 students across junior colleges, polytechnics, secondary schools, madrasahs and ITEs were gathered by Taman Bacaan to learn and share their views regarding Muslim youth radicalization post the 9/11 incident.

The youth convention was the first of its kind organised by Taman Bacaan to bring Malay youths specifically together to discuss current affairs that directly pertain to them. For this convention, the hot topic of Muslim youth radicalization was the focus. Professionals from their various areas of expertise were invited to shed light on the topic, along with other political figures to share their experiences.

Highlighting the event for many was the question and answer session before the event was closed, where many thought-provoking and provoking questions were placed before the panel of experts to be answered. This session was kept strictly off the media, to allow for more ‘open’ discussions between the students and the panel of experts.

As coverage for this blog, a summary of the talks by the various experts and highlights from the question and answer session will be discussed and shared below.

Official Opening – The Changing Face of Terrorism

In the opening speech, the overall issue of youth radicalization was addressed; which is the fact that it actually exists and actions need to be taken to counter that ideology. The face of terrorism has changed – terrorist recruits are getting younger and they are also using technology to spread their word. This has called for Singapore to step up to come up with prevention measures to protect what it values most. However, obstacles, such as the increasing income gap and distorted teaching has, hindered such efforts.

The Psychology of Militant Groups

Exclusive to this convention only, the MHA has divulged their findings on the psychology of terrorists to the public. It has been revealed that there is actually a methodology behind the brainwashing done by terrorists, which is done at five levels.

At level one, the victims need to desire good but are offered negative solutions. They are on the constant search for the meaning in their lives. At this innocent ideological state of mind, the terrorist groups present their ideas to them as pure, in religious terms, and do not reveal their eventual agenda just yet.

Cultivation begins at level two, where the thoughts of the victims get reformed. This is done in six steps:
1. Not having the victim aware of their thought reform
2. Controlling the physical and psychological environment of the victim
3. Making the victim feel powerless and dependant on the terrorist group
4. Suppressing the victim’s old ideology and attitudes
5. Instilling new ideology within the victim
6. Creating a closed system of logic within the victim

Level three introduces the victim to the terrorist organisation officially by having them controlled and undergoing an introduction rite, where they are made obligated to obey by a ‘religious pledge’ called the ‘Bai’ah’.

The notion of violence is taught at level four, where the victims are made morally disengaged for the purpose of establishing a utopian world against the enemy that makes violence appropriate.

Last of all, at level five, the victim is allowed to be involved in ‘achieving’ that utopian ideology.

The Threat of Terrorism: Challenges and Responses

This talk proved to be the most engaging among them due to the visual elements presented. In the talk, the speaker addressed the true nature of the threat. They are out to strive for a new agenda, to become global, ideological and operational. The threat now is not based on terrorism, but in fact, extremism. Operations are focused on the basis of 10% effective and 90% engagement. Thus, the government needs to counter their ideology by bridging the community and creating greater awareness.

Understanding the Threat of Jemaah Islamiyah in Southeast Asia

To fight an enemy, we must first learn all we can about them. That was the foundation for this talk, which began with the history of JI. Jemaah Islamiyah started off as Darul Islam in Indonesia, by SM Kartosuwiryo. It became JI in 1993, with the introduction of Abu Bakar Baashir. Their organisation structure sections off Southeast Asia into four ‘Mantiqis’, each with a different purpose, with Singapore being in Mantiqi I along with Malaysia, for the purpose of raising leaders.

The Singapore cell was started by Ibrahim Maidin and was crippled when 36 of them were arrested.

Their capabilities are far reaching. They reach out through religious faith, focusing on brotherhood. They were found to be training new operatives between 2000 and 2003 in guerrilla warfare and assassination. All this is done to fulfil their objectives of a utopian ‘Daulah Islamiyah Nusantara’ and imposing Syariah Law, learned by a textual manual called ‘PUJI’, or ‘Pedoman Umum Jemaah Islamiyah’.

As an organisation that focuses on doing the will of religious faith, they focus a lot on military warfare to achieve their means. They present several reasons as to why one might join them; persuasive leaders, misunderstanding, commitment to a righteous love and Bai’ah.

The Roles of Religious Rehabilitation Group in Singapore

Last of all, the last talk presents to us a countermeasure that Singapore deploys against this terrorist ideology. The operations of the RRG are extricated. They work directly with the suspects to replace their negative mentality with positive inputs. One of their aims is to correct the misconceptions of several concepts that terrorists has presented. Their twisted version of Jihad implies a holy war, like a crusade, while its actual meaning is a constant strive for excellence that is asked of every Muslim. The concept of Al-Wala’ Wal Bara’, that differentiates the believers, Ummah, from the non-believers, Takfir, is actually just an indication of uniqueness. Hijrah in actuality is a migration of self, to change for the better.

It has then come into concern to correct the perception of Islam. It is a religion of guidance where moderation is the right path as it is meant to be easy, not to be taken in an extremist perception. Most of all, it encourages peace, love, harmony and friendship.

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DISCLAIMER
Rerences to actual people in this blog is for reference purposes only. Comments, criticisms and coverage found are purely for the purpose of discussion and are not to be taken out of context. Materials are not to be used without the permission of the owner and are protected under the Creative Commons License.
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Birthday Wishlist

2007-01-14T17:56:00.001+08:00

This might sound quite shameless, even more so that I am typing this for the second time because the original one just disappeared, but those out there who are concerned might want to have some guidance. It's not much, just a list of things that I wish to have but never really had the extra bucks to bother getting them (or maybe I'd rather splurge on food). So here they are (not in any order).

10. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (adult cover)

9. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (adult cover)

8. Artemis Fowl

7. Artemis Fowl and the Arctic Incident

6. Artemis Fowl and the Eternity Code

5. The Lord of the Rings - The Fellowship of the Ring (movie edition cover)

4. The Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers (movie edition cover)

3. Dan Brown's works (if a collection bundle exists, or else don't bother)

2. Eragon & Eldest

1. My swimming jacket back (yeah, I lost it)

There you have it guys. If this is not a big enough hint, I don't know what is.

Announcing... BoB's Playgrounds

2007-01-07T23:44:00.001+08:00

The Legacy of the BoBs

Between the years of 2002 and 2005, a band of ten brothers, dubbed the Band of Brothers (BoBs) reigned over their educational institute. They made their lives (and destroyed others) there for four years, during which they had the best moments of their lives. Their fun was legendary, which the world will never see again.

Until now.

The world must know our story. Thus we present you with this unique compilation of recollections as a memento of our reign. For your envy. For our pleasure. For history.

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We're a clique of five originally, and expanded to include ten prominent people. It came to a point that BoB became a title, and the current count stands at a large number. During our time at secondary school, we wrecked havoc there, resulting in countless memories of mischief.

This all began at last night's (new year's night) coffee talk between me, Mobs, Poocha and Altho (yes, we're prepared to get old. let's do go-for-kopi-after-prayers thing when we're old. or strawberry lime if you still prefer it at that age). Maybe it's a new year thing, but we just started talking about the past year. Then it started going further back to the times when we were still at CSS. Oh, it went on and on, all about how we were when we first started school, what we did every year, and everybody that we met there.

Then it hit us. We really had a ball of a time at secondary school. Most people (okay, everybody else) never did or will come close to the fun and troubles that we had in there (quite a pity). I mean, we made Commonwealth history that people might consider legend.

Then we came to another revelation.

The world must know.

Come on, we can't live in a self-contained pity. We have to make the rest of the world bright green with envy. Besides, our adventures number off in... large digits, with no way for us to remember them all or keep them. Yet.

So the time has come for a solution to be made.

It was quite simple, the solution was staring straight at us in the face. Blogging (we were checking old BoB-related entries on our blogs). Why not make a blog that's like a digital diary to compile all those stories together that is written by all of us for the world to see? So that's exactly what we're gonna do.

As a new year's gift, I present to you codename 'Project Playground', as homage to our crocodile days.

So there you have it, the story behind the formation of the BoB's anthologies. Now the world will know our ploys and our adventures shall now be immortalized.

Thus begins the Legacy of the BoBs.

Click below to start envying our adventures:

To read other posts, head over here:

Selamat Hari Raya Bloodilfitri

2007-01-01T13:55:00.001+08:00

May peace be upon you.

First and foremost, to my Muslim friends, Selamat Hari Raya Aidiladha.

Also to them, and to the rest of you, enjoy the gore.

Hari Raya Aidiladha is an Islamic holiday to commemorate the incident of Prophet Ibrahim(/Abraham) where he was made to sacrifice his son Ismail(/Isaac). As a commemorative gesture, every year Muslims present the sacrifice of cattle in their name.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like some cult blood sacrifice. To begin with, the slaughtering process is done in the Halal way, which is through quickly severing the carotid artery and draining the blood, for a most peaceful death. Secondly, the sacrifice(korban) itself is not to offer the cattle's life to God, but to acquire the meat and distribute some of the meat among family (kinda like oranges on Chinese New Year) and the rest is donated to the needy.

It is a justifiable event and all, but if you're standing in front of the fated sheep, witnessing the knife fall down onto the neck and absorbing the sight of every trickle of blood, one can't help but to flinch a bit.

Not that I have hemophobia of something. Okay, maybe I am a little held back by my relation to the Animal Rights Activist Society. But mass slaughtering of animals for an occasion is a little wrong.

Okay, thinking of the other worst things people do in other crazier occassions and the people that Saddam slaughtered, maybe this one isn't that bad.

Let us end of properly.

In the name of Allah
the Most Merciful and the Most Compassionate

We thank you again for this wonderful day of Aidiladha,
for our health to live this day,
and for continued health to see the next.

In Allah's most precious and Holy name
Amin.

The Wilderness Series #03 - Comrades In Arms and Surrender

2006-12-29T22:02:00.001+08:00

NOTE: The entry below has actually been worked on many many times before this final release version, largely due to procrastination to complete it. So pardon me if some sections do not sound coherent or if they sound as if they were written by different people, I am a little schizophrenic. But lo and behold, it is finally finished, so before I apologise yet again for the long delay, enjoy the article.

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After more than a year and many many months since my last decent post, I've finally decided to break my long persistent procrastination and create a third addition to my long forgotten Wilderness Series. For those who have forgotten, here's a link to the previous release:

The Wilderness Series #02 - Behind These Wandering Eyes

As a tribute to the previous post, this one talks about friends as compared to guys. So there you go, enjoy!

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The Wilderness Series #03 - Comrades In Arms and Surrender
An article by Seraphim

**********************************************************************

If I were to ask you, who can't you live your life without? Go past your corny cliche answer of your loved one and answer that truthfully. Okay, also exclude your maid out of that answer. What do you get? Your friends! You maid-cleaner-gardener-chauffer dependant lazy pigs! Yup, truth be told, you really can't imagine going through your whines and traumas without those creatures that you constantly abuse.

On a closer examination, friends come in different shapes, sizes, and purpose. Yes, purpose. There's always a reason why humans do the things they do, whether they're conscious of it or not. If you're still wondering what they could possibly be, read on, and discover the true cynical side to yourself.

For pure, genuine, goody-goody old-fashioned friendship

Well, if you live in the Disney movie world, you would know what I'm talking about. Some of you fairy tale suckers out there still believe in what is termed 'true friendship', where you really befriend someone unconditionally. As in, for free. I repeat, you kiasu Singaporeans, FREE! *gasp* Is that possible? Nah. Wake up people, we live in a world where nothing's free anymore. Not for real anyway. There's always a drawback for everything there is. So let's believe in some humanity and look inside yourself and find that truth as to why you tolerate that obnoxious friend of yours.

For Company

Hah, got you there. Even if this sounds harmless, it is nonetheless a selfish motivation, isn't it? How many times was it that you ask for the accompaniment of others because you don't want to appear anti-social in that high school environment of yours, don't want to be afraid to go to that spooky toilet or just can't stand the state of solitude that will haunt you if you are left in isolation. Oh, how hard the realisation hits you now, eh? Yes my dear sinful readers, you have committed this act before. Well, if you have any friends at all that is.

For fun

Not for fun as in for no reason at all, you simple minded caveman. As in, for fun and laughter, peace and joy. When you’re feeling high as if you’ve slurped sugar concentrated redbull with double shot of expresso, these kind of people are those who you look for to exert your excessive energy on. Probably also because they can get similarly high or are feeling just as high as you. Hell breaks loose when you guys are together in that discombobulating state of mind. One word to describe it? Crazy.

For benefits

The epitome of superficialism, this is it. Not everybody is meant for everybody else, but there are some people out there who you would like to be with because through them you can get what you want. It can be a lot of things, like other friends, money’s a common one, connections, and the list goes on and on. This is not something that everyone would do, but people who are wise, or plain old devious, would do this to achieve their ends. Not to say that this is dishonourable, to be realistic, but this is something that you would do if you want to survive in a competitive urban environment.

For other benefits

Friends with benefits. Sounds familiar? Yes, when two lonely souls chance upon each other in a time of social need and suppressed lust, the inevitable happens. You know you cannot, will not or do not want to be together, but that itch in your nether regions bring you both together for that release of wild energy building up inside you during the time you are apart. Do not be shameful of it, we understand the need for it, though the rest of society might shun you for that act. But hey, deep down, they understand too.

Okay, that’s all that I can come up with the half-mind that I have right now. I don’t know why but I always seem to be doing these types of articles when I’m feeling high, so pardon the weird incoherent language. So there you have it guys, the different friend classifications there are (or at least some of them). Just like the previous release, this classification can be interchangeable and intertwined, so have fun figuring out why you’re wasting your time with that bird brain sitting in front of you.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

2006-12-28T17:36:00.000+08:00

Yup, that's the title of the 7th book.

I know, I know, kinda slow to post that. It's been out for a few days already.

Don't know whether to be excited or sad. Sure, the last book will finally be out, but...

IT'S THE LAST BOOK!!!

"...at the solstice will come a new... and none will come after..." - Order of the Phoenix

NONE WILL COME AFTER!!! AAAAARGH!!!

A Vivid Vacation for a Vacated Venture

2006-12-26T03:45:00.001+08:00

Pardon the pun, watched too many reruns of V for Vendetta, which is the personal favourite movie of the year, made extra special by someone special. Phew, that’s been quite a long while since there has been any decent post at all. Through that entire wait, there have been quite a handful of ideas cropping up which has been set on reserve, so look forward to a few more worthwhile entries before the year is done. A top five list is to be expected, so to make that even tangible, some entries need to go up.

Before we proceed, allow some introduction to be done. All of you are all too familiar with this person called Farhan. Yet it is not he who speaks now. Neither are we the alter ego called Rafahn. Instead, let us be known as the Greater Consciousness [until we find a nicer name]. We are the entity that has been given consciousness in the cranial crevices of Farhan’s brain since its existence, ever watching, ever waiting. It is through this long silence that we have finally manifested a voice to speak to all about the thoughts and mishaps of Farhan and Rafahn. As an inside third party [ooh, what an oxymoron], we are able to report independent of their influences. We are the Voice that is Withdrawn, the One who Knows Many, the User of Corny upper Caps, the Privileged with the Special Brackets, and the Personification of Legal Grounds. Yes, it is we who embodie the purpose of the grounds where the truth is ordained. Don’t fret, Farhan and Rafahn will still make appearances. To make it clear who’s who, we’ll all sign off at the end of each article.

That was rather longer than we intended. Anyway, our purpose here today is to report on the recent event that happened to Farhan. As per tradition, he made another trip to miserable Malaysia last week, as had been done during school vacations. Along with him was his band of misfits: brothers two, Stupidity and Shamelessness, a mat/skater confused crossbreed, and another pair of brothers from In The End. No offense, but we don’t mind their lack of intellect at all. In fact it made for quite an interesting vacation, just like last year’s events.

Let’s take a look at little Singapore from the global geographical perspective. She’s tiny. An hour gets you from one point of the island to the other. Malaysia on the other hand, is littered with acres after acres of land. That meant that a lot of time there was spent on travel journeys in the middle of palm plantations, if not in the middle of nowhere. Man, do they have a lot of land. If Singapore could buy just their peninsular, we can even be twice richer than those farm-loving Malaysian. Equipped with the trusty divine lifesaving iPod Nano, constant supply of coffee from regular pit stops, and a band of idiots as company, the journeys around weren’t as bad as they were supposed to be.

We’ve seen the Legends at Fort Canning, but we weren’t eager to see yet another one in Malaysia. However, Legends Resort there wasn’t so bad. The rooms could do better, but the resort it self was quite lavish. It had all the facilities that a band of idiots could ask for a full day of havoc, which was exactly what we did right after we checked in.

Sadly, there wasn’t a good afternoon and dinner buffet at the in-house restaurant, so all meals except breakfast were had outside. Duh, since we were at other parts of Malaysia during the trip there anyway. Oh, we really must tell you about the mishap that almost resulted in the permanent loss of Farhan’s beloved jacket. There’s this seafood place right outside the resort that we all went to for all the dinners. It was actually quite a long walk out from the resort, since for some reason they built it in a way such that you had to take a really long walk down a road to get in. Anyway, after the dinner on the first night, alas, he left his jacket on the chair while paying the bill. Oh what horror! It wasn’t realized until he was back safe, ok maybe not with all the other idiots in the same room, in the hotel room. The poor guy had to run back to the eating place to get it. He had a ten ringgit bill prepared just in case the people were rotten enough to hint for a tip. Oh you know, who knows how corrupted these people could get. For some reason, we’ve observed that the service people there don’t really have the ‘service with a smile’ campaign going on. Except for the service people at the shopping centres, who seemed to profusely greet and thank everyone like clockwork. Anyway, his ten ringgit was still with him at the end of the incident, and so was his jacket.

Did we mention that he got a room with that entire bunch of misfits? Oh, now we did. Can you believe it? Imagine the havoc that must have occurred! And that was exactly what happened. Too bad the room service menu wasn’t good, or else we could have done our traditional consecutive call in the middle of the night to order the same food at different times thing. Yeah, we actually did that last year. And the year before. And the year before that too. Despite our cultural, behavioral and intellectual differences, we still had a common view of having a good time, so hanging out with them was worth our while. Tempting as it is to join their illicit activities [strict as they are, Malaysian laws are nowhere as enforced as ours], Farhan still retained his moral pride, so he got to witness all the insanity while still being sane.

All in all, it was quite a fulfilling trip. The only regret is not bringing our laptop of course, or else we could have enjoyed our iPod a little longer and god knows what else a bunch of guys with a computer would do in the middle of the night. Home didn’t seem to welcome us back with open arms. It poured like never before, for days on end, though it was good excuse to skip training [don’t tell anyone that]. Really, rainy weather doesn’t give you the mood to do anything else except for doze off. Anyway, this is as far as we can go, the rest is up to Farhan. This is not, however, our last encounter, so we bid you farewell until next time.

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The Greater Consciousness is the all powerful entity that governs the cranial spaces of Farhan’s brain. They like is there since it’s cosy, but with Farhan and Rafahn’s increased conflicts, it’s getting a little cramped. That could have been the cause of the gradual drop in IQ.

And the fight rages on

2006-12-26T03:32:00.000+08:00

NOTE: This entry was saved as a draft for me to work on, but I never found the will to finish it. So I'll just put it up in this state for the record.

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THIS POST IS REGARDING THE ACJC FIGHT CLUB. (which does not exist)

Oh, I'm just making sure that whoever is googling on it finds the right stuff.

Before we dive back into this whole fiasco, I just realised that this kind of thing is what this blog was aimed to be doing when it was created - to be writing on interesting touchy topics. But it has kinda died lately, so I'm really excited to be on the keyboard again. If promos ends well, I'll be gearing up for a fresh new round of blogging.

Now, back to the main issue. I was just looking around to see what's sprouted since the news about the fight came into the digital realm and all hell broke loose. Must really admire how the internet spreads the word. I've gotten hits regarding the article from people who are from the other side of the globe. And I also discovered some psuedo open house teaser poster of some photoshopped japanese girl. Look out for that, it's worth a look.

What isn't worth looking at is SGForums. The thread on the issue is relevant at first, but after the first five pages it turns into a bitchfight with JC vs Non-JC students, Transparency vs Political Correctness or whatsoever factions the bitches have broken into. Unless you're another New Paper reporter, it's not worth a look.

And here's another worthy look. Read on.

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fight club?
http://poultryrice.blogspot.com/2006/09/fight-club.html

whoa apparantly the fierce kids at acjc have some sort of fight club which proves that the chattering classes are not above petty violence when it comes to extra-curricular activities.

acjc kid 1: i say, shall we reconvene after school at a suitable locale to do most grievous bodily harm to one another

acjc kid 2: a most excellent proposition my good man, and may i first say that by the time our little altercation is over you will most surely have cried uncle

acjc kid 3: and might i be so bold as to suggest that we invite the other members of our class to this little after school soiree

acjc kid 1: by all means go ahead. after all, what could possibly go awry unless it appears on the front page of the new paper

and here i was thinking that only the proletariat were capable of such things. perhaps we are more alike than we like to think.

well apparantly in jc you are allowed to add 2 grades to your prelim score to get your projected results. so technically C is the new A. i'm just waiting for dead to be the new alive so i can kill myself and live off the insurance money.

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Well said, whoevever-you-are-didn't-catch-your-name. However, being an ACSian myself, I feel obliged yet again to put that in it's true context. So here is my remake of that entry.

acjc kid 1: i say, shall we reconvene after school at a suitable locale to do most grievous bodily harm to one another

acjc kid 2: a most excellent proposition my good man, and may i first say that by the time our little altercation is over you will most surely have cried uncle

acjc kid 3: and might i be so bold as to suggest that we invite the other members of our class to this little after school soiree

acjc kid 1: by all means go ahead. after all, what could possibly go awry unless it appears on the front page of the new paper

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Source article: Newspaper article from The New Paper
Author: Santokh Singh
Date of article: 03 October 2006
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HERE'S my appeal to school principals and teachers: Please do not impose any gag order on your students if something negative happens in the school.

HERE'S my appeal to school principals and teachers: Please do not impose any gag order on your students if something negative happens in the school.

Why? It doesn't work.

If anything, it makes them want to talk even more - first among themselves and, if approached, to the press.

The students will get the feeling that the school has something to hide, is authoritarian and not transparent. Worse, they may think their principals and teachers are not practising what they preach.

How can teachers ask them to practise critical thinking and freedom of thought and speech, so central to their classroom learning, when they impose gag orders?

Last week, The New Paper came across this unique situation. Unique because it happened in two schools within an hour.

Students from a secondary school and a junior college told us they had been gagged.

In the secondary school, almost 300 students were struck by a mysterious illness.

In the junior college, the police were called in to break up a planned fight by students.

'We've been told by the school not to talk to the press about this,' the students from the two schools said when we approached them.

But they then went on to tell us everything we needed to know.

Why? It is a basic human instinct - to talk.

The JC students not only spoke freely with us, but they also contradicted what was told to us by the school authorities.

The New Paper ran its report last Thursday, reflecting both versions.

The principal may also be interested to know that it was a student who had alerted us to the incident.

I am convinced the student called us because he did not like being told to shut up.

'We do not wash our dirty linen in public' is an adage that is plausible only for a small family.

I say plausible rather than possible because even in the families of today, I see loyalty losing out to the urge to share interesting gossip.

What more, in a school 'family' of more than 1,000 members.

And with the advance of technology, the imposition of gag orders is almost bordering on the ludicrous.

At times, a student who witnesses or hears of the incident sends an SMS to a friend or family member almost as soon as the incident happens.

No time for the principal to tell students that he or she is going to impose a gag order.

And, as we've witnessed many times these days, these SMSes with visuals attached spread really fast.

If not SMS, then e-mail. And if not e-mail, then a blog.

A Google search with some key words would, more often than not, produce the results.

It may take a little longer but it's usually not long enough for the school authorities to remove the posting.

The details on blogs can be revealing.

Earlier this year, The New Paper warned of fight clubs forming in schools.

One principal, who vehemently denied the existence of such clubs, called me to protest.

But the next day, a posting on a blog criticised The New Paper for being late with the story. A JC student wrote that a fight club was already in existence in his school since he was in Secondary 1.

There are often two sides of a story. But, gag order or not, the truth will usually prevail in the end.

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DISCLAIMER
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Well, it's not mine, but I found it to be rather intersting and applicable here. So, to all you snoopy reporters out there, have a look.

The blogger uses this weblog to exercise her freedom of expression and has attempted to protect the privacy of characters mentioned. In the event that similarities between actual people and persons mentioned in the entries are uncanny and you think that they are one and the same, you are probably right. However, you should not presume to know that you are correct, or presuppose that the blog contents are accurate. Whatever opinion you form based on the information provided is most likely made in a false light and should be kept to yourself. The blogger will not be held responsible for the contents of this weblog and warns that it should not be taken seriously. Do note that contacting me and demanding that I remove any offensive material is ludicrous since you are visiting this site of your own free will. Under no circumstances should you use and pass off any material from here as your own unless I permit it.

Revelations

2006-12-25T23:51:00.000+08:00

It's Christmas Day.

A week since I had my vacation.

8 days left till school opens.

And the pile of schoolwork won't just vanish.

WTH.

ACJC Swimming Video

2006-12-24T16:16:00.001+08:00

Just to add more materials to this blog before I post the articles, here's an interesting vid that might interest you.

A tribute to the seniors.

BoBs Sentosa Outing

2006-12-22T17:04:00.000+08:00

Here are the waaaaaaaay overdued pictures folks. I'll put up quirky comments or whatever on my own time ya. Enjoy.

Product of boredom... again

2006-10-04T00:53:00.000+08:00

Oh, scroll down for the fight stuff. This is just my routine boredom check.

Message: if you're a girl, fill out the girls
confessions,
and put an 'x' next to each that apply. If
you're
a guy, fill out the guys, and put an 'x'
next to
each that apply also. Have fun! [Don't
forget to
delete the x's if you're the opposite sex =)]

X_x Girl Confessions x_X

[ ] I do wear make up
[ ] When I walk by mirrors, I cant help but look
[ ] I love pink..
[ ] I have cried at a movie theater
[ ] I love chocolates
[ ] Getting flowers still makes me smile
[ ] I've wrecked a car
[ ] I can put mascara on without opening my mouth
[ ] I'd do anything for a guy
[ ] I love cuddling
[ ]Johnny Depp is sexy
[ ] Gotten detention
[ ] If I have to dress like a... to get your attention, then forget it buddy
[ ] I love to laugh
[ ] I've flashed someone/some people
[ ] I've skinny dipped
[ ] I like Rock
[ ] I like rap
[ ] I like Electronics/techno
[ ] I carry a purse everywhere
[ ] I carry my cell phone at ALL times
[ ] I do own a spice girls CD
[ ] I also own a Britney Spears CD
[ ] I play hard to get
[ ] Boys are fun to tease
[ ] Football is boring
[ ] I love athletic boys
[ ] I love rockers
[ ] Hot guys are better then sweet guys
[ ] Sweet guys are better than hot guys
[ ] I prefer "sweet hotty" guys.
[ ] I've been called a tease
[ ] Lip gloss is WAY better than lipstick
[ ] can't leave the house without makeup
[ ] I'm a bitch. Deal with it.
[ ] I play video games, even when there are other people around
[ ] My friends are the best, and they're important to me

o_O Guy Confessions O_o

[x] I have watched....... (can we not speak of the obvious?)
[ ] I have played/cheated on a girl
[ ] Ive slept naked
[x] I play video games (playED)
[ ] I wear boxers to bed
[ ] Ive thrown rocks @ a girls window
[ ] Ive drank because I felt like it
[ ] I still beat my buddies up
[ ] Of course they never beat me up
[ ] I drive a truck/SUV
[x] My friends and I make fun of each other...alot
[ ] I drive some type of car
[ ] I have a job
[x] I currently have a girlfriend
[x] My girlfriend is better than yours
[x] I think about girls/my girl
[x] Girls are complicated, to the tenth degree
[ ]Im .......... friendly? ahaha
[x] Ive forgotten to return a phone call to a girl...or a few (the latter)
[x] Not all guys are the same Im one of the different ones (ugh, so true)
[x] Id do anything for my girl/a girl (they tend to be... persuasive)
[ ] I tend to be shy around girls
[ ] I act like an ass on purpose
[ ] I've been flashed before
[ ] Ive seen the Rocky Horror picture show
[x] I play hard to get
[ ] I aspire to one day become like the guys in Old School (say who?)
[ ] Im not in love
[ ] Ive honked at a girl going down the road
[x] I've hit on a girl in public (oh no no no, I brought her into a dark alley...)
[x] I've gotten wood in class (what can I say? I'm an adolescent)
[ ] I've asked a hot girl for her number that I just met
[x] Ive acted like a man ........ (as compares to... an infant?)
[x] Angelina Jolie is hot
[ ] Pamela Anderson is hotter (waaaaaaay too big)
[ ] Sports over-rule everything else
[ ] I like rock music
[ ] I like rap music
[ ] Ive been expelled
[x] Ive gotten detention (for the first time in my life!)
[ ] Cheerleaders are hot (show me some then I'll rate this)
[ ] I have a tattoo
[ ] Ive gotten road head
[ ] I smoke entirely too much
[x] Im a virgin (gee, we're asians)
[x] I respect what you have to say (i'm a listener)
[x] And yes I care how your day went =) (for real)
[x] Its not the external looks that matter its how you feel about yourself (ah, tricky one)

At the Fight Scene

2006-10-01T01:50:00.001+08:00

Recently, there has been quite a buzz at school set off by an article in The New Paper about ACJC. I'll spare you the details and just look at the article to see what it's all about.

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Source article: Newspaper article from “Was it a 'Fight Club'?”, The Electric New Paper
Author: Liew Hanqing And Veena Bharwani
Date of article: 29 September 2006
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STUDENTS IN TROUBLE #1
Cops break up JC fracas

IF you thought fight clubs existed only in movies, think again.
First brought to the fore by Brad Pitt and Edward Norton in their 1999 film Fight Club, the concept of clubs, formed for members to fight for fun, appears to have arrived here.

In May, The New Paper reported two such incidents which were recorded on video by students from two secondary schools.

They were allegedly involved in a 'fight club' - where students fought one another for the camera.

In those cases, the fights happened on the school grounds.

Last Tuesday, yet another face-off took place here.

This time, a group of students from Anglo-Chinese Junior College (ACJC) gathered at the carpark of an HDB estate near the College.

The New Paper learnt from students at the college that at least 20 to 30 students were at the carpark to witness the fight.

And, despite the school imposing a gag order on staff and students, a number of students claimed that a 'fight club' exists.

They said that the group consisted mainly of first-year students.

The New Paper found two blogs written by students which also mentioned the fight club.

MANY MEMBERS

One first-year student told The New Paper that he had heard from friends that the club had more than 50 members.

He said: 'Some of them were involved in this fight club probably because they thought it was fun.

'Most first-year students should have heard about the club's existence.'

Another first-year student added that the incident occured at a multi-storey carpark opposite ACJC.

She said that most of the students were there as spectators and did not actually fight.

Although she wasn't present, she had heard from a friend that there were both boys and girls at the scene.

'We heard that the students dispersed quickly when the police arrived,' she said.

When contacted by The New Paper, ACJC principal Kelvyna Chan said that there is no fight club in the college.

'ISOLATED INCIDENT'

She described the face-off at the carpark as 'an isolated incident of mischief', and said that the students involved had been reprimanded and counselled.

The police confirmed that the incident took place on 19 Sep.

A resident contacted them last Tuesday about a fight at the carpark.

A police spokesman said they received the call at about 4.20pm. When officers arrived at the scene, they spotted students 'running into a nearby school'.

The spokesman added that the police had used the carpark's CCTV cameras to help identify the culprits.

The police have been in contact with the school regarding three students involved in the fight.

No weapons were used.

- Additional reporting by Lim Jun Xue

http://newpaper.asia1.com.sg/news/story/0,4136,114543,00.html?

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Source article: Newspaper article from “No fight club in college”, The Electric New Paper
Author: NA
Date of article: 29 September 2006
**********************************************************************

IN a faxed response to The New Paper, ACJC principal Kelvyna Chan said there is no fight club in the college.

'There was recently a fight in the multi-storey carpark involving three of our students.

'This was an isolated incident of mischief. No one was injured. The students involved have since been reprimanded and counselled. None of them were expelled.'

http://newpaper.asia1.com.sg/news/story/0,4136,114540,00.html?

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Well, being me, I just couldn't sit still. So guess what? I wrote back to them. Check it out.

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At the Fight Scene
An article by Seraphim

**********************************************************************

I refer to your article, 'Was it a fight club?' (29 September 2006, The Electric New Paper). To answer that directly, no it wasn't.

If you thought fight clubs existed only in movies, think again. If you think they exist in ACJC, really think again.

Study break on 28 September took longer than usual, as research reading for the next day's General Paper on The New Paper took all of the attention. Reading up for school turned out to be reading up on school. The article sensationalised the possibility of a ‘fight club’ back in ACJC.

Wow, a new club and it’s not even listed in the yearbook.

As a proud member of the school (like everyone else), I am obliged to set the record straight. The article mentioned that ‘This time, a group of students from Anglo-Chinese Junior College (ACJC) gathered at the carpark of an HDB estate near the College.”. So previously it was at the local dojo. That is hardly reason enough to think that there has been similar past incidents. About the 20 to 30 witnesses and a 50 member fight club, those digits are wrong. So far, there hasn’t been any ‘gag order’ notice on the school internet portal either.

I have to stand by the principal’s claim that there is no fight club in the college. It is interesting to ponder why this particular fight became a media focus. If you ask, say, an ITE student, I’m sure they can supply you with a weekly fight to content with. A previous May report already supplied two videos as evidence. A quick search on Youtube revealed 3246 more.

Fear not, this little conundrum has not discombobulated us students. It merely justified our GP teachers’ claims that the media does have engaging stories. Besides, it has become good inspiration. We’ve always wondered what could beat our special edition collegiate t-shirts. Imagine a limited edition ‘Fight Club’ t-shirt at our upcoming 99.90 store. (Oh! Like, that is so cool! And they cost peanuts!) Another good point learnt from the incident is that all of us can truly trust the local police. They have surveillance at carparks that will happen to focus on juvenile fights at high enough quality to distinguish faces. How efficient can they get?

We understand why there is a dire need for sensational scandals. Why else does Singapore need topless dancers, bar top dancing and casinos? Besides, we know that it might take time for the truth to be realised. Even the Ministry of Education needs time to figure things out. Jack Neo, ‘who spoke against the EM3 system in his hit movie I Not Stupid in 2002’, ‘took six years’ for the MOE ‘to figure it out’.

Quoting from my principal, ‘no one was injured’, so all is good. Even if the fight club were real, it won’t be us who should be worrying.

The writer is a first year student at Anglo-Chinese Junior College. This aggravated person has indeed not heard of the existence of such a club, reads satires for light bedtime reading and was not distracted from revision by any misleading articles.

Irwin gone

2006-09-04T22:28:00.000+08:00

Aussie croc hunter Steve Irwin killed in 'freak' stingray attack

SYDNEY (AFP) - World-famous Australian "crocodile hunter" and television environmentalist Steve Irwin has been killed by a stingray blow to the chest while filming a documentary on the Great Barrier Reef.

The larger-than-life Irwin, 44, known for his fearlessly enthusiastic handling of even the deadliest of wildlife, was killed when a stingray barb punctured his heart during underwater filming off northeastern Australia.

"He came over the top of a stingray and the stingray's barb went up and went into his chest and put a hole into his heart," said the ebullient Irwin's longtime producer John Stainton, who was with him at the time on Monday.

"It's likely that he possibly died instantly when the barb hit him, and I don't think that he ... felt any pain," a tearful Stainton told reporters in the city of Cairns. "He died doing what he loved best."

http://asia.news.yahoo.com/060904/afp/060904125339people.html

Oh well, poor bloke. Here's something as a sign of respect for him:

If you haven't already heard, Steve Irwin died today on 4th September, on the great barrier reef, near cairns. As a sign of respect for the Australian Cultural Icon, please place a turtle at the start of your MSN Name and forward this message to others. To make the turtle sign type 'tu' at your nickname.

A Race... Just for dignity

2006-07-09T02:03:00.001+08:00

Alright, so last weekend, on Sunday 2 July 2006, I went to the OSIM SIngapore Triathlon 2006 as part of the Olympic Distance Triathlon relay open category, doing the obvious event - swimming. We actually participated just for fun, thus the title, which I will explain in a while. But in the end, at the event itself, we took it more seriously than planned, and ended up in a pretty good position.

For a brief introduction, the olympic distance triathlon relay is a race where there are three legs to the race - 1.5km of swimming, 40km of cycling and 10km of running - each done by a different person. I was down for swimming, senior Frank for cycling and fellow Pre-U Sem presenter Gerald for running.

Ah, back to the title. We arrived at the event pretty early, so we walked around at a leisurely pace. When we just got to the starting line (that's where the swimming part starts), we heard the following announcement: "Swimmers ready? GO!". So you do realise that at this point, there was a crowd of 56 other swimmers who just started the race, and we were just staring at them. Our faces clearly spelt "WTF". Man, I never undressed so fast in my life. And when I first touched water, my PINK swimming cap wouldn't come on properly. So there you have it guys, a race to fight for our dignity, to save ourselves from being last and to save some face for ME who was wearing a PINK swimming cap.

The organisers have no fashion sense.

So, a little commentary on my part of the race. Actually, I wasn't really the last person to start. There was someone else, and he made a futile effort to not remain that way by tugging on me to propel himself forward. Too bad it didn't work, cause he got a backward propulsion from my kick smack on his face. Yeah, mass swimming is really dirty, there's more kicking and pulling later on in the race.

The first sensation that was exhumed to me was the shock of realising that the water was pushing back! I mean, OMG! The water moves!!! That never happens during training at the swimming pool! Oh, and it was moving AGAINST me! In big waves! Yeah, it didn't really occur to me that swimming in open water would be so much different than the swimming pool. There were resisting forces, unpredictable waves, totally obscured seafloor, choking and blinding salty seawater and absolute blindness at navigation.

When you swim 300 metres offshore, its a bit hard to navigate as the horizon and shore looks curved. Navigating according to the parallel waves was quite hopeless, as the waves change directions according to the passing ships, so I found myself lead astray quite a few times.

Not to mention the seawater. Half an hour of endless swimming in the sea makes really burns your throat. Thirst was the only feeling. And extreme irritation. And of course exhaustion. Half my efforts were spent on surfacing, since the water level wasn't constant.

While I was swimming, I wondered why nobody swam past me. It didn't occur to me till later, that how could there be anyone passing me when I was last in line! HAHA. Laugh with me guys. So I could only overtake, not get overtaken.

All in all, it was quite a refreshening experience, as I did pick up some tips on swimming in open water. Like play violent when violence is used on you. And it was really cool coinciding my strokes with the swash, to give it an extra propulsion.

My other teammates had their own little adventures too. The cyclists almost rammed into the barrier threee times. One of which was cause by me and the runner, who shocked him with our sudden loud cheer at a sharp corner. Hey, it wasn't our fault. It was the shadiest and coolest corner around. He lost all feelings in his family jewels after all that. And the runner was a media magnet as he ran a full 10km at high speed with a JESTER HAT on. Yeah, we really joined this thing as a joke at first. For real. He got the joke of the day. "Hey, that joker can run!"

But in the end, we got quite decent results, despite the fact that none of us did any real training for it.

Bib - R297
Name MOHAMMED FARHAN BIN RAS, CHIN ZHAN SHENG, GERALD SOO ENG SIANG
Nationality - Singapore
Swim - 00:36:18
BikeCP1 - 4
BikeCP2 - 4
Bike - 01:18:07
RunCP1 - 2
RunCP2 - 2
Run - 00:42:17
Total - 02:36:41
Rank - 16

Yes, you read it right. After starting last, trying to hide a pink cap, gone on kamikazi crashes, ran like a crown, we still topped 41 other people to get ourselves the 16th placing. I calculated from the timings that I overtaken 28 others in the swimming round, and the runner owned 40 in his leg of the race (there were runners from other categories too, and I'm too lazy to calculate how many the cyclist owned). So like they say in dota, OWN-AGE!

00:36:18. Definitely not my personal best. How can it when I had to brave the shock of moving water, trying not to suffocate on seawater and propelling upwards instead of forward? 1.2mins per lap (over 30). Terrible time. But it's quite ok, considering it's my first open water experience.

Ok ok, I know you want this:

The colours are a bit off, since I had to digitally edit off the website link from the picture. If you want to find more, go hunt me down at http://www.sportsphotox.com. But please don't, cause this is the best picture and it's ugly. I look fat in the pictures after getting bloated up on seawater.

In the end, all of us are hooked onto the adrenaline rush of a triathlon and ended up with the promise of a more dignified return in next year's race. Too bad for Frank and his NS, we gotta find ourselves a new cyclist. Next year, we're really gonna train for it, and looking at the bunch of old people in that category, it'll be another TOTAL OWNAGE next year.

So go TEAM ACJC!!!

ACJC PW - Tapestry

2006-06-24T01:47:00.000+08:00

Need a bit of help people. Just doing my part for the project, please spare a few moments and click the link below to do a simple survey. Won't take up the time you spend on that porn flick in that other window, I swear.

Click here to take our Online Survey.

Thanks, and have a nice night.

Elements of Prerogatives

2006-06-14T00:14:00.000+08:00

Commonwealth Secondary School
7th Student Council
Leadership Camp
2006

Terra - Ignus - Aqua - Zephyr
The Elements of Prerogatives

Here you go people, some pics from the camp.
Write-up coming soon (if any)

10 signs that show you're a workaholic

2006-06-04T11:58:00.000+08:00

10. You plan the next day's events in your dreams.

9. Your desk is cluttered with pages of text.

8. You keep forgetting to eat breakfast.

7. Here's a classic: You're a caffeine junkie.

6. You multitask better than an Intel HT processor.

5. Instead of photos of friends, you keep albums of corporate pictures.

4. You think Britney Spears's 'I'm a Slave for You' has a nice ring to it.

3. You call your friends 'collegues'.

2. Your SMSes start with "So what time is the meeting?"

1. People say you don't have a life, but you never could understand why.

Penantian AC Perbayu berakhir...

2006-05-29T22:49:00.001+08:00

I'm having a very bad tendency of going on long blog leaves like this one. But what can I do? A workaholic's gotta do what a workaholic's gotta do - work. During the past two months, there's been one thing after another going on, climaxing in the June activities. At least once June is over, I'll get to focus more on my studies. Oh, darn, there's still term exams. Oh well...

Maybe it's true when they say that I neglect my studies too much. I care a lot more for what I do and the opportunities offered to me, never learning to say no. Perhaps it's because all I am is what I am and what I do, if you get that. Whatever it is, I'm neglecting other aspects of my life (or what's left of it). Academic life is all screwed, flopping every test, not exactly for the reason that I didn't study. Really long story, won't even bother going on about that. Social life's quite fine I guess, with all the meetings and inter-school activities, my contact list gets a constant input. Still, I haven't been able to watch my year-long awaited movies (MI:iii/Da Vinci Code/X3). But my personal life is suffering a bit now. I get too caught up with all that I do until I don't seem to care much about others anymore, something I hope to change when this is all over.

Not to mention that this blog is missing out on its usual contents. Really low on inspiration now actually, with more design works than I can catch up on inspiration. I do promise however that by the end of the June holidays, I'll have something up to add on to my Anthologies or Grimoire. Chances are, you wouldn't even remember what those are anymore.

Back to the topic of this post, ACJC's Malay Language and Cultural Society (AC Perbayu) has recently had our stage performance titled 'Penantian' (Waiting). To the rest of the school, it's just a play. But to those involved in it, it's a lot more than that.

For the production team, the play is not like any other drama play. For starters, this isn't like the drama CCA, where they do plays as part of CCA. For us, we're just normal students (maybe not me) who have other CCA life and friends to be with. Having little or no experience at all in theatre, it was quite miraculous that we even managed to pull it off. But pull it off we did, and what a success it was.

The rehearsals were long and hard. It began months back, ending only at around six plus. Then it started getting longer as the day got nearer. Nine plus, then ten plus, then past midnight. It was gruelling, but not a soul complained.

Having the production team bonded is a mere understatement. It was more than that that we obtained from the experience. For once at ACJC, we (at least I) were around those of our kind - Malays (or Malay-speaking) and Muslims. That is something that I treasure greatly, as being in ACJC, or even in JC and growing up developing my own individuality, being proud of my race and language makes a world of a difference to me. That was probably the reason I decided to become an active Perbayu member in the first place. Believe it or not, I have pride in my race, as it is nonetheless part of who I am.

Hiduplah budaya Melayu.

Friends became aplenty during the production. I became really close with all the Malays (and Indonesians/Malay-speaking people). I have to admit that the roles in the production was a bit screwed up. The director became the secretary, the stage manager became the director, the assistant manager became the personal assistant and the cast did crew work. Suffice to say that there was insufficient crew. But that did not hinder us, the crew to not function. It strengthened us even more, leading to a segregation of rivalry between cast and crew, all in the name of good fun. That gave birth to the crew name 'Crew rulez, tau', that I shamelessly put on the last subtitle at the end of every performance.

Oh, and one of my greatest joy was discovering my long-time friend Laila J, whom I befriended at MOELC and last met like three years ago. It's quite an intriguing feeling, discovering an old-time friend. Besides her, I also got to know the other Perbayu seniors, whom I've grown to appreciate as they made me realise that even Perbayu has a spirit and passion to it. Not to mention that the control room people got nicknames for ourselves. I've got Minah Subtitle along with me, Bang Lighting, at the control room during the performance. Man, was that a laugh.

"Theatre is like a bee. When you get stung, you can either get hurt by it and never want to go through it again or revel in the sting and can't get enough of that feeling."
- Mr Sani Hussin, director of 'Penantian'
(ok, maybe that's a really well-done rephrasing of what he said)

I guess what he said really was true. For most of us, tha latter is true. A lot of us are already suffering withdrawal symptoms. I mean, there's a feeling of emptiness, not going for a rehearsal and tiring yourself out every afternoon till late night, after doing that for so long. The experience of making the production and staging it was simply incredible. The feeling of knowing that the audience is in awe at the performance, and knowing that they're like that because of you, is just remarkable. That probably is the joy in theatre.

"Life is short. If you were to die, at least do so knowing that there was a sweet moment in your life that will burn forever in your memory, and is worth dying for."
- Mr Sani Hussin, before the first performance
(another adaptation)

Another beautiful quote, that pushed us to our best and made it an unforgetable experience. However, there's still the rest of life to persue now. Everybody has to go back to wherever they left off before this miracle. There's still the post-mortem meeting and celebration BBQ party to look forward to, so there's still another moment to cherish. But wherever we go after this, all of us will have this burning memory with us to live for.

The same goes for me. I'm even moving on already, or forced to. Actually, I'm already at Pre-U Seminar as I type this, typing this entry on the school laptop after lights-out at NUS campus residence. Hope to get excused to go for the celebration. And of course, hope that there'll be another experience like this one to look forward to next year.

Di sini akhirnya Penantian untuk Perbayu untuk tahun ini...

Waiting

2006-05-16T19:48:00.000+08:00

End it

2006-05-14T13:46:00.000+08:00

You scored as Gunshot. Your death will be by gunshot, probably because you are some important person or whatever. Possibly a sniper, nice, quick, clean shot to the head. Just beautiful.

Gunshot

80%

Drowning

67%

Posion

60%

Stabbed

60%

Natural Causes

60%

Suicide

53%

Disappear

40%

Accident

40%

Cut Throat

33%

Disease

33%

Suffocated

27%

Bomb

20%

Eaten

How Will You Die??
created with QuizFarm.com

Oh cool. Yes please.

You know, the idea of apocalypse doesn't sound so bad right about now.

Silence

2006-04-12T19:50:00.000+08:00

10 hours of it.

You think you can endure that?
Well I had to back on Saturday at the WSS.
I never want to go through that ever again.
How do you keep a people's person sane throughout 10 miserable hours of silence?
Sure is a hard thing to do.
Well, considering that I couldn't fulfill half of the competition requirements,
I filled my time reading the help section of every program.
Found out a couple of useful stuff too.
And just for kicks,
I hid a few hidden goodies within the website
That would reveal some very 'interesting' messages if the judges found out.
Like,
"Whoops, I forgot to finish this"
Yeah
I was that bored.
You would be if you had to spend 10 hours not knowing how to complete the task you're given.
But it all ended well, with my sanity still intact,
Though I doubt it.
And I was hoping they would at least give us something to bring back home after keeping us away from society for 10 hours...
A little keychain would do.
But no...
They just had to leave us off in a state of semi-consciousness and begging to hear another human voice again.

You know, when I first created this blog, I really never thought that I would complain here.
Like how some people post about their cliche sad life for the sake of self-pity.
Neither did I expect to express such angst.
But then again, I did start the first post out of angst.
I do hope that I can get back to writing my usual columns.
Really miss writing stuff that is actually worth reading.
I'll get back to that soon.
As soon as I have some free time.
Notice the irony.

GP lessons have been rather fun.
We created a new activity.
It's called:
Homosexual necrophilic beastiality.
Figure it, then try it out.
We could use some comments for the next lesson.

Oh, and I figured out what knocked me out at the swim meet.
Yeah, I know, took me a week to realise.
The mis-plunge knocked the air out of my lungs.
That screwed things up more than having my goggles askew.
But heck, like anyone would care...

...not as much as a new sexual activity

Fast Forward

2006-04-05T18:56:00.000+08:00

Saturday, March 11 2006

It was the aftermath of the battle
In which my future was decided.
But it's now over.
Just relinquishing the grip that worry had on me.
Only hoping that someday I'll be able to repay the deed
Set upon me.

25 days later...

That last statement is now an understatement.
I'm currently in 3 CCAs already (depends on technicality)
And trying to push my way through to Students' Council.
Oh wait, don't tell them I already have 3 CCAs
Don't think they want overenthusiastic and overcommitted people.
Not to mention I'm representing the college so soon already.
Come June I'll be down for the Pre-University Seminar
Doing what else? Multimedia of course.
Also in Malay Perbayu drama production.
Whose script has more lines than the notes that I can barely memorise.

And on top of that, I'm in the World Skills Sinapore (WSS) Web Design competition.

Went for the briefing last Friday morning.
Never thought that I'd be overwhelmed by ITE students.
Or even laughed at by them.
It took me long enough to realise that it was an open tertiary category
Where participants could also be from polytechnics and ITEs.
And guess what? I'm the only JC competitor
And the youngest.
I read through the expectation list for the website.
Halfway down and I was already lost.
There were acronyms that I didn't know exist.
How the hell am I suppose to compete with them?
With people who STUDY the skills needed in school?!?!
The skills I've got for the websites were those that I learn AFTER school.
On top of other homeworks and revisions and trainings and such!
But heck, looking at past years' winners, I wasn't planning to win anyway.
It will be simply an experience from which I would learn from the professionals.
Then use it back in future JC category competitions, hehehe.

So yeah, that sums to the fact that now I do not have a life.
Again.
My only free time is on Monday afternoons.
Yes, that means even weekends are full.
That Monday will probably be taken up too to make ends meet.
Free time shall now be a word used to reminisc about my kindergarten days.
(unless you consider the time spent mugging on the Eyewitness series)

This week was the college annual swim meet.
Probably the most embarrassing and disappointing time of my life.
Ok, maybe the WSS will be the most embarrassing.
50m freestyle was at least 5 seconds off my personal best.
That's the difference betweeen my current last placing and five places above.
100m freestyle was a disaster.
For the record, yes dear concerned (aka kepo) readers, I screwed up 100m freestyle.
Made the most embarrassing scene in swim meet history.
I'm gonna be on the cover of the next Echo now.
So here's the exclusive first hand details.

1st mistake: Screwed the plunge, causing goggles to go askew, didn't correct.
2nd mistake: Half blind, went blank, lost balance, causing improper breathing.
3rd mistake: Couldn't turn properly to breathe, causing a lot of drinking.
4th mistake: Got bloated sick with water, out of air to continue, paused at 75m.
5th mistake: Didn't pause to catch breathe, giving the audience a full view of my struggle, and the photographers a million shots of that moment.

There you have it guys. An exclusive coverage of that screw-up.

If you think that one month is a short period of time
Think again.
A lot can happen in just one month.
I would know
Because the next time I blog
Another month would have flown by.
Maybe then I can post scans of my interview in Echo.

Anxiety Buried

2006-03-11T09:49:00.000+08:00

Dear God
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
Courage to change those that I can
And the wisdom to know the difference

It turned out

That I did change what I could

And the Devil's pact was an Angel's blessing

And it wasn't my talents that saved me

But my own skills at dealing with the situation

Victory tastes sweet nonetheless

There's still the irony

Of the angel being in blood red that morning

But you can't expect life to be all that dramatic

So now I'm back

For sure

Free from my past obligation

Only needing to repay the blessing, nothing more

Anxiety Dead

2006-03-10T06:28:00.000+08:00

Finally

Good news for a change

Surprisingly

After suffering so much

Salvation did not come as a celebration

But merely a relief

How ironic

At a school that is supposedly holy

I signed the Devil's pact

Sold my soul just to stay in place

What is it?

Tomorrow will tell.

Heh, at least I'm staying.

Maybe that's all that matters.

Or is it?

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

Fatal Anxiety

2006-03-08T20:15:00.000+08:00

Time to face the alternate possibility.

Tried my luck on other grounds.

Still

Am I being rejected?

By the very people I hold dear?

"Where the treasure is,

is where your heart belongs."

They say life is a roller coaster

Full of ups and downs.

Actually

Life is a suicidal freefall

Everything just passes by quickly

You just keep going down

And in the end, you know you'll just die.

So what exactly is the point?

Murderous Anxiety

2006-03-07T22:27:00.000+08:00

Orientation two this morning.

Sure cheered up the mood a bit.

But

Two days, still no news.

Tick tock tick tock.

Three days more to tick.

The ticking will soon stop.

Where will I be after that?

Anxiety

2006-03-06T20:07:00.000+08:00

The weekend has passed.

A call of false hope.

But

Nothing is certain yet.

Another day passed.

Still nothing.

Will I stay?

Tomorrow will tell.

I hope.

Posting

2006-03-03T23:27:00.000+08:00

Nothing is ok

But

Yishun?

W

T

F

Anthologies #08 - Unconditional

2006-02-20T17:48:00.001+08:00

ALmost a week late, but heck, who's giving the deadlines around here?
Without further ado, presenting my Valentine piece.

**********************************************************************

Seraphim Anthology #08 - Unconditional
A poem by Seraphim

**********************************************************************

If roses are red, and violets are blue,
Sugar is far more sweeter than you.
If winter dawns, and water turns to ice,
A gaze it draws deeper than your eyes.
If the sun sets, and blood trickle,
Your cheeks would match it very little.
If spring comes, and flowers bloom,
Not yours is the smell that fills the room.
If birds would chirp, and the wind sings,
Never would your voice have such a melodious ring.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare,
For it is not one that is born from compare.
A love not from how you are,
Thus a love that has stretch thus far.

**********************************************************************

Heh, I know that if you're a literary fan, you'll be vomiting at the lack of taste in my first attempt at a sonnet. But hey, how many people out there are literature enthusiasts? Or even know what a sonnet is for that matter?

So there you go, my first attempt at a sonnet and my Valentine piece.

Being Blunt

2006-02-11T21:45:00.000+08:00

I was there, sitiing in front of my sec 4 form teacher. She handed me a stack of things, smiled, then I walked away. I peeped at the first grade.

3

Disappointment.

Couldn't look at anything else as I was suddenly tailed by a mob of juniors who weren't even getting their results. For some reason, I became a little senseless. Tried to run away from the mob for the next five minutes while trying to make out what the slip was telling me. In the end I gave up and consulted my form teacher again to make sense of things. Didn't help much since she didn't know what it says either. Can't blame her, she's a Chinese teacher after all.

After quite some time, I regained my senses and finally summed up the whole stack of paper into a single number.

14

Disappointment.

What the hell.

All that trouble for that stinking number? Oh sure, the bonus -4 would let me stay at ACJC. But still, what kind bloody score is that? From a school which made history with four 9 A1 students (possibly more considering HMT), countless of 8, 7, 6, 5 A1 students, the top Tamil student, an overhaul of 10, 9, 8, 7 pointers and an overwhelming percentage of distinctions, that number is nowhere of that calibre.

What a shame, to find out that my primary school friends are generally doing rather well. And to think that once upon a time, I was their superior. Got a call from my primary school teacher this morning. Almost didn't have the heart to tell her my results.

You know what? DAMN IT!!!!! 14!!!!!! WHAT - THE -HELL!!!!!!!

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shit really does happen.

But on the brightside...

I'm technically a ten pointer, holder of 4 distinctions, a two page testimnonial, and an ACJC student.

And to think I failed midyear.

Disregarding my own ego, that's not too bad.

Waving the blue, yellow, red flag

2006-02-08T21:21:00.000+08:00

School! Junior college! Anglo-Chinese Junior College! I was thinking of keeping the name references to a minimum, thus the vagueness of the 8 Jan entry, but you know what? Screw the potential suers who are desperate to exploit innocent bloggers! Let freedom of speech be true to it's words!

That was a complete diversion from my intended topic FYI. School's boring? That's what most people who go to schools where they just teach the 1 to 10 of NeoPrint posing would say. The same does not apply if you go to a school which has a metro for a DM, a gollum impersonator for a history teacher, a vulgar Englishman for a literature teacher, errr... nothing exciting for the science students though, a cake food fight for every birthday, eye candy all day, dunking at the pool whenever the attendant isn't looking, a rule that involves your friend and light shining, and did I say eye candy? All that beginning with the blessing of a dead lord every morning. Yup, that's my school alright.

ACJC is a fairly nice place. I mean HELL YEAH it's a nice place! We've got the best sports facility! Woo hoo! Ok, maybe except for the toilet. I'm so jealous! The girls have a bright, cheery, yellow toilet but the guys get a dull blue. Maybe it's to camouflage the shit that you'd frequently find in odd places at the cubicles. But then again, I can't say the toilets are bad. It's a universal condition for the male toilets to be bad due to their masculine practises.

ACJC is the home to swim P.E. Yup, SWIM PE. How cool is that? Ok ok, other than being the main concern of the male desire, it's sure a hell lot of fun nonetheless. I learnt quite a lesson at the last session, that being a lifeguard is the dullest thing ever. The only thrilling moment when I had to do lifeguard duty during the lesson was when someone appeared to be struggling in the pool. That was when my fellow swimmer-on-lifeguard-duty-mate got over-excited and threw the floating device to him. Of course, he wasn't in any danger, but I dare add that the float hitting him straight in the head was a greater danger.

As for appearance, you can more or less look as and how you wish. Heck, you can even dye your hair if you want. Just claim that you're a swimmer and your hair to bleached. I'm not sure if bleaching causes a variety of colour change though. For the shoes, you're supposed to wear those with 70% white. Like how the hell do you calculate that? But the shoes there are quite sick actually. Study a passing crowd and you'll alternate between Nike and Adidas. Hairstyle is not much of a problem. A friend (aka soliloquy master), happened to have a physics teacher on PMS one day and was introduced to a pseudorule of a ban on gelled hair. I don't really think that's an actual rule, noone else knew about it, including our dear metro DM. He of course sobbed as a soliloquy siren all the way home.

There was cross-country this afternoon. It was quite an interesting affair, began with students getting lost in the weirdest bus routes, like my friends and I who ended up passing by a sim Lim lookalike. As per the universal cross-country tradition, there were people hell-bent on strolling all the way. And of course there are the anorexic (ok, maybe not so) athletes who take up the top few positions. I nobly ran for my house to give my share of two points for the house system. LSG won both boys champion and girls champion, and of course, overall champion btw. Go LSG! We rawk!

I'd love to write more, but I'm behind time on my EXCITING literature assignment, instead of any BORING science MUGGING that some of the students have to do. So until next time, may your flag bear the same colours as mine in the future.

P.s.: Thanks for ur blog greeting pumpkin! And the other million greetings that you sent me through all means of communications!

JC 101

2006-01-22T14:05:00.000+08:00

Dummy's (express) Guide to Surviving JC
(at least for mine)

Coming into school alone or planning to get to junior college?
Here's some nifty tips to get you going.

1. Be cool
Don't try to be cool, don't act cool, just be it.
But if you can't, just don't bother. Rather not be a poser.

2. Take up a sport
Chicks dig it, man. Besides, it's cool to be wearing the school colours.
To top it up, you'll look good too, hehe.

3. Develop a talent
Noone wants a pure academic anymore. You gotta be more than just a student.
You can't lose out on experience to those nuts at the poly you know.

4. Know the right people
Not really to be popular (yeah right), but to get to know even more people.
If you know someone who knows ten others, you know eleven people already.

5. Get yourself known
It's sad, but popularity is still a major factor in college.
Not just for social reasons, but for other reasons as well.
You'll need it to even get into the students' council.
Out of ideas? Just do a publicity stunt.

6. Never get broke
When you're popular (or not), you're bound to get invitations to a million outings.
Unless you have unlimited fundings, I suggest you plan your expenditure.
But if you find yourself broke, good luck.

7. Bring all sorts of attire
Hey, let's go to the gym! You'd get that at any college.
Hey, let's go swimming! That's harder to dress up for, or rather, dress down.
There's a million and one things to do at school, and even after that.
You don't want to change for swimming and find out that you're just wearing your birthday suit.

8. Master digression
A most useful art. With such colourful people in the school, you're soon to run out of things to flaunt.
Top marks in class still can't beat the jaguar your friend came to school in.
Could save you from social fatality.

9. Learn how to dodge
The discipline master could pick out offences you'd never realise in a million years.
That could set you back two hours in the afternoon.
Best to just avoid that.

10. Get close to your class (and your OG)
They'll be like your family during your stay at the school.
You'll never run out of people to sit with during lunch or go out with after school.
Or borrow notes from when you're taking a break during lectures.

*No money back guarantee

Forbidden Files #04 - Behind the Eagle Dragon's Roar

2006-01-08T18:06:00.001+08:00

Happy new year guys! It's been too long since I blogged, and longer still since my last exposé. So I thought of kicking off the year with one, and also something that pertains a little closer to me. There you have it, enjoy.

**********************************************************************

Forbidden Files #04 - Behind the Eagle Dragon's Roar
An exposé by Seraphim

**********************************************************************

On the morning of 3rd January 2006, I awoke with very blurred vision after not waking up so early in the morning for months. That day I wore my colour of blue, without the glitter and silk, though how I missed those on me. The atmosphere outside was just as how I remembered it the last time I went out to school. It was a little colder this time, with the frequent rain. Along the way, I met my brothers in blue, heading towards others of our colour. It was a new year, a new term at school, and all was like how it used to be.

That is not entirely true though. While those whom I met in blue were heading off to one destination, I was off to another. In the same colour, I bore a different badge. One shining with a mythical creature with the body of a dragon, eagle's wings and the head of a lion. A creature belonging to a family with a most proud heritage. That, was the badge I bore.

When one walks through the grounds underneath the red, yellow and blue banner, one can tell the proud history that accumulated at the school. As honourable as it is, the students there seem to take on a different image in the eyes of the outsiders. If you know what I'm talking about, you should know what they are called. If you don't, gee get a brain and look around for the good JCs. To put it simply, students there are known as arrogant snobs.

Is that even true? After having some first hand experience there myself, I don't see how that can be so. Okay, maybe that's a little true. Slightly more. Okay okay, it's a quite true... On a more serious note, it's surprising how such a rumour even sprouted. Shocking, but true.

The school's history stands proud with a very impressive CCA record, in the achievement of sports, excellence of performing arts and reputation of the clubs and societies. Overall, the school has a positive front to the public.

Perhaps this rumour sprouted from jealousy, as what I have found the seniors to claim. Not jealousy of the school's achievements, as that would have obviously made them arrogant anyway, but of the school's spirit. There, there is a very strong sense of culture and identity amongst the students. A sense of belonging so strong it is like an everylasting flame in the hearts of every students. None is shameful to bear the badge and shout the school's name. That is the fiery passion they have for the school.

Personally, I would really dismiss the rumour. I can't think of another explaination or excuse to it. That is just the only reason for it, nothing else. It's as simple as that.

Maybe the rumour is true, or maybe not. That is up to you.

**********************************************************************

I hope that's a good enough article to start off the year and continue my 'highly acclaimed' Forbidden Files series. For those in JCs, hope you guys had a wonderful orientation. For those not, SUCK-ERS!

Oh, and my OG ROCKS!!!! We are gonna send a probe to Uranus!

Andalite, Carnsir, the WORLD. ACSperience, you've got to have it!

Btw, here's my personality disorders:

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Disorder:	High
Schizoid Disorder:	Low
Schizotypal Disorder:	Moderate
Antisocial Disorder:	Moderate
Borderline Disorder:	Low
Histrionic Disorder:	Moderate
Narcissistic Disorder:	High
Avoidant Disorder:	Low
Dependent Disorder:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	Moderate

Paranoid? So true... Narcissist? HAHA! YES!!!

Seer

The ULTIMATE personality test
brought to you by Quizilla

Ooh, I like this one...

mERRY cHRISTMAS

2005-12-25T02:33:00.000+08:00

Your Blogging Type is Pensive and Philosophical

You blog like no one else is reading...
You tend to use your blog to explore ideas - often in long winded prose.
Easy going and flexible, you tend to befriend other bloggers easily.
But if they disagree with once too much, you'll pull them from your blogroll!

What's Your Blogging Personality?

Just thought of saying a little greeting to all my christian friends.

Merry Christmas

Seraphim Anthology #07 - A Lovely Stain

2005-12-21T21:49:00.001+08:00

Took me months to get an inspiration to write something original, but here it is finally. For my latest addition to my anthology, here's a sad piece that I wrote. Enjoy.

**********************************************************************

Seraphim Anthology #07 - A Lovely Stain
A poem by Seraphim

**********************************************************************

The glorious sun in the early morning
Splinters to his eyes
The soothing melody of the birds' chirping
A puncture into his head
The lush greenery of the trees' wavering
An eyesore to his brain

But

The dampest cell in the furthest corner
Where he could thrive
The deepest well in the darkest dungeon
Where his gaze could rest
The deadest hall in the vengeful asylum
Where his thoughts could scatter

Since

Dark was his soul
Restless, no sleep
Lost without a goal
Dry, couldn't weep
What's born of beauty
Brings his demise
Searching for a sanctuary
Then to his surprise

One day he felt
Sudden lightening in him
That didn't belong
Yet welcoming it seem
From a daughter of beauty
Child of grace
Salvation he found
In the look on her face

Now

The glorious sun in the early morning
Brought warmth to his eyes
The soothing melody of the birds' chirping
For once sounds nice
The lush greenery of the trees' wavering
No life it heist

But

All this serenity
And all this merrymaking
A misfit for him
Not really his longing
For a creature thus dark
It couldn't be that plain
Saving was not to be

Her love

Would be just

A stain

Till death do us part... NOT

2005-12-13T00:34:00.000+08:00

Just been to a funeral yesterday, I mean two days ago since it's 12am already. It was my great uncle, not really one that I know personally, but one I visit every year on Hari Raya anyway. Talk about abrupt. The last time I saw him was not more than a month ago on the first week of Hari Raya. Death really has no schedule.

It's amazing how much you know about a person despite meeting him/her a mere once a year. They say "till death do us part". Okay, it's a quote. You think that's true? Nah. From what I witnessed two days back, it's the exact opposite. I bet the poor guy's long forgotten best friend came to see him off. What irony, the dead draws more than the living.

I remember the same thing happening a few years back. It was somewhere in Malaysia, another distant relative died. At his funeral, relatives from all over South-east Asia came. None of them have seen him by any person's view of recent. From my childhood days I remember him saying, "You (my close relatives) won't be visiting me often. Only when I die, then you'll all come running to me". Rest well, you were right gramps.

For my late uncle, I know I won't miss him much. But no matter how much I disregard my (extended) family, I know they have some value. Like I know I'll miss the nasi dagang he cooks every Hari Raya. Damn, one less thing to look forward to. Nonetheless, his departing did have an impact on me. It just reminded me of how much regard I have for the dead. Therefore, to his memory, rest well. The living won't forget.

Synthesis Successful

2005-12-10T21:25:00.000+08:00

Wow, for once I'm gonna do a full journal entry. Well, for those who DIDN'T attend the VERY FUN reunion. Will reupdate soon with pics. Here's the juicy details.
WARNING: Long entry.

0700: By some miracle I managed to wake up on time despite having gone to sleep (or knock-out as I would consider them) at 3am the previous night (same day actually). Normal morning stuff, with extra grooming, shine my nails... (awe... noone noticed they were shiny, heh)

0830: Met up with Sarah and Huiling at Giant to get supplies. Enjoyed a quick morning bite (usual caffeine dosage for me) while waiting for Giant to be open. Our ending purchase was quite an awkward mix of food, jumbling sushi with bananas. The culmination of our hour-long shopping was at a staggering SEVENTY DOLLARS! But we did not mind a thing because we're gonna claim it from our teachers! ;-)

The most depressing news was when our dear friend Scott (it's SCOTT people SCOTT!!!) called last minute saying he couldn't make it! That was depressing news because most of the popular guys (you know, the main attraction, not exactly in positive terms) could not make it. But after some persuation and filial nagotiations on his side, we finally got Scott!

1030: Made a fashionably late arrival at the MRT station with everyone already there except for dear Mrs Tan. Attendance was quite disappointing, considering I've called for a total attendance of 30, and called the WHOLE CLASS. Nonetheless, it did reach my minimum quota. Anyway, here's the list of those who attended:

Teachers
Mrs Isa Tan (+daughter)
Mrs Teri Toh

Guys
Frederick
Zongming
ME (duh)
Pusparajan
Suhaili
Wei Shen
Scott

Girls
Melissa
Meili
Sarah
Hui Ling
Norashidah
Amalina
Hassanah
Nurliyana
Nurmaisyarah
Siti Aishah

Total: 20

So after breaking the ice amongst the frozen solid people who had been waiting at the station and the super-fashionably late arrival of Mrs Tan, we finally headed off to Sentosa. The ride there had an amazingly large amount of talk about Thomas and homosexuality with myself getting thrown in the weird mix.

1200: (eventually) We somehow, after several road blocks and map rereadings, managed our way onto a slightly shady spot on Siloso Beach. Again, the awkward silence amongst these awestruck (more like dead-struck) people. We grabbed whatever we could to eat then made our way to the water. That was where we found ourselves knee deep in the water and everyone just became dead and refused to proceed once again...

Most incredibly my coincidence (yeah, right), my clique had an outing at the same beach at the same spot, some distance away. After managing to drag out legs off the edge of the water, the guys went to play soccer with... the other guys. The challenge was too tempting for me to refuse, despite last played soccer for what must have been two years back. It was quite a tough match, we were more or less evenly matched, despite having better players on the other guys' team. Must have been from all those years of playing soccer together in primary school. The game ended with an incredibly lengthy last goal, mostly dued to the players' lack of interest in continuing the game.

1415: It had been fun, but Scott and Raj had to depart. Mrs Tan departed sometime during our match since she was departing the country as well. Unsportingly, Frederick and Zongming decided that they missed their mummies too much and had to return to suckle up really quick. Me and the other guys had quite an interesting game of monkey in the water. Having water as my familiar element, it was incredibly fun to actually BE the monkey as it never was long before I managed to harrass someone for the ball.

1500: Incredibly, after the departure of the unfortunate ones who had to leave, the day turned to a brighter side (quite literally, the sun started to blaze) and we started playing games.

Our first game was 'Dog and Bone'. For those not familiar with it, it's played with two teams with the same number of people and each of them allocated a number. They are then to stand in two parallel lines in their teams facing the opposing team and an object (the bone) is placed at the centre. The game is played by having a/some number(s) called and those person(s) being called have to run off with the item back to their team without getting tagged by the person from the opposing team. Wow, I actually had to explain this game to some people.

We played it by changing the distance to the bone(frisbee) to what was an almost 10m sprint and we buried the frisbee in an unknown location. It was fun but we soon got bored of it due to the lack of sense and objective. (like duh it's senseless, it's an orientation game!)

Next, for the longest time, we played a game of whacko. Now, to explain THIS game. Everyone sits in a circle, introduce their name, have a person stand in the centre, have a name called and the person at the centre tries to whack the person being called. To avoid getting whacked, simply call another person.

We played this game by having nicknames. For the first few rounds we were renamed after flowers. Doesn't sound like much but it really was fun trying to figure out who's who. Besides, if you're out there with the sun, sand, sea and screaming girls (this is a pun if you're dumb enough not to notice), it would no doubt be fun. I was lavender by the way, haha. *rolls eyes* Then we were renamed after MRT stations. This was an even more fun challenge since we had to figure out if the station we called actually had a person attached to it. No need to explain why this is supposed to be fun.

1600: I remembered to check my phone for Mrs Toh's call, and I was aghast to find that she called AN HOUR AGO! Called her back, and fortunately she had diarrhoea (sick idea of fortunate, eh?) and was coming late. So she popped up at around 1620.

After all the running around in the sand, we settled down for a quieter acitivity. Me, being the guy who archives stuff, brought a whole big bunch of old stuff from primary school to reminisce over. The first on the list was a letter from our beloved Ms Salwati dated 11 August 2000!!! It really was memorable. That was when we figured out a challenge. Read on.

**********************************************************************
The Yuqun Legacy Hunt

From the letter, we found out that my copy of the letter was the first out of the unknown number of letters that Ms Salwati would post to us in that consecutive weeks. The thing is, the letters were posted to a different person every week, and since we did not share the letter (despite her saying otherwise), the letters were never put together.

So the challenge is, fellow 6A Yuqunarians of 2001, to hunt for your copy of the letter if you did receive one and bring it on the next reunion. Only then will our hunt be completed.

**********************************************************************

After the letter, I showed everyone the birthday cards I received for my 12th birthday. What was interesting about that was more than half of those cards were unnamed, hoping that I would finally figure out the sender today. Unfortunately, none of my secret senders were identified, leaving them a mystery till today.

Moving on, we went on to pictures! Old pictures of events and things we did together. Even showed everyone our class photos! That was sure fun, comparing people now and then. I even brough the Yuqun Memories book, similar to a yearbook especially made for that year to commemorate the school's closing. To top it off, I brought the first and last copies of the students' newsletter, Kids Express! (actually, there were ONLY two editions) That must have been the highlight of the event, considering that it was (meant to be) a reunion.

1700: At the end of that mushy segment, we just went free and easy, going around the water and lazing around. For some reason, a sand war broke out amonst the other guys, with me as the main casualty. Let's just say my clothes didn't stay sand-free despite rinsing them thrice.

1750: Exhaustion finally caught up with us and we decided to call it a day. For the guys, this point of time was incredibly boring, having to wait for the girls while they set up a make-up studio in the changing room for more than half an hour... If that was slow, our journey back to Harbourfront was longer with the frequent breaks in betweens to rest, etc.

2000: Yes, it's 8pm by the time we went our separate ways at the Harbourfront interchange. Not really separate ways, since we all made a remarkable realisation that all of us live rather near each other (duh). So from here, I dictate my story. Went to eat at the hawker centre right next to the interchange, after running through half a dozen options again and again without a conclusion. There, we found the secret to making a hawker stall popular and the other five with me concluded that I love blood (how that relates logically to anything and how that was concluded was beyond me). Had Meili to treat me to a sixty-cent bandung since I had no small change, haha, small trivia. I owe you 60c Meili! Oh yeah, and Sarah still owed me $2 from the McDonalds thing! And Mrs Tan owes me $10!!!

2315: Here I am, almost finishing this blog entry. Wow, working on a blog entry for one and a half hours with cramped muscle and sand in my butt crack. Such dedication. Alright, we've come to the end of this year's reunion. So for those of you who DIDN'T come or LEFT from this EXCITING reunion, a big HA-HA to you. And to all, the message below.

Announcement
LIke what I did a few months earlier for Synthesis, I'm making an announcement for next year's reunion. There will probably be another one next year in around June or December. It will be a chalet next time, so keep your time free! I'm planning this one with a full itinerary with the teachers, so I expect FULL ATTENDANCE everyone!!!

That's all for this year.

Signing out.

Mission Completed

2005-12-09T01:13:00.000+08:00

Just made an interesting discovery recently at a meeting. If you keep thinking about the words 'basically' and 'actually', you'll find yourself using it in every sentence. That's not exactly good when you're editing a 30-page proposal whose writer was doing that. Heh.

I'm feeling emo today (if I can possibly feel emotions that is), so I was thinking of writing a short emotional entry. So here's the first part. Not meaning to sound too angsty, I'm writing it this way.

**********************************************************************

Ten signs your mum doesn't know you well (or you're a baby)

10. She picks you from school.

9. She's got your life planned till the day you retire (or beyond).

8. She thinks that your favourite tv programme is Sesame Street.

7. She covers your eyes when there's kissing scenes on tv.

6. After she organises your room, you reorganise it.

5. You sigh at her birthday present for you.

4. She kisses you flat on your lips in front of your friends.

3. You have a curfew.

2. She still talks of your four-year-backdated affairs.

1. When you shop together, the clothes that she picks is what you don't.

**********************************************************************

Well today, I've:

Sipped on coffee from heaven.
Secured the most anticipated weekend of 30 people's lives.
Saved four pages of people from wasting 75 minutes of their time.

And

Mission Completed

Or is it just the beginning?

Whatever it is, that sure was one heck of a day.

School under the moonlight

2005-12-05T02:18:00.000+08:00

It's been weeks since the O levels ended and still I haven't come up with a good entry. When I get a blessing of inspiration then maybe I'll consider doing so. For now, I'm just gonna update on the school dinners that's been happenning in the past weeks.

**********************************************************************
Council Dinner

I shall take my liberty to comment and critique the event for the sole purpose of reviewing the event.

The seniors all came to the dinner with a whole big sigh of relief. We had our wish of the dinner granted before our passing, which was previously denied under the school's new stringent budgeting guidelines. I arrived there quite early, in fact one of the earliest non-staff person to arrive there.

Registration was laid out just perfectly, with everything at the registration desk laid out in order and thought out thoroughly. A first reaction into the dinner hall would be quite unanimous for all seniors; it was rather small. I mean, it was obvious that it was a fraction of a much larger hall, so it gave quite a claustrophobis feel to the place. But with the nicely laid out table and doorgift, that was quite excused.

Overall, the dinner was satisfactory, with everything that should be in it was in it. However, the programme could use a bit more life to it. Many felt that it felt rather sudden and ended too abruptly. Oh, and the food! While we, the seniors, do appreciate that the organisers thought that being served was a better option, better food from a buffet would be hollistically preferred over. But hey, last year it was served and it wasn't that bad, so serving isn't so bad.

To those involved in organising the event, a big pat on your shoulders and you have the seniors' grattitude.

The ex-excos' reserved VIP table (hehe), with the discipline committee squeezing in

5th Student Council members, you rawk man, you rawk!

For more pictures, visit:
http://aikolovesyou.blogspot.com/
http://simplifiedlove-.blogspot.com/

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ESPLENDOR: Seniors' Prom Night

Ok ok, it's prom. End of story. There's really not much to talk about, other than the fact that the male emcee sounds totally brainless. I mean, really, where do they get this guy? Mental institution having an offer? So if you want to get more scoop on the prom, go to other blogs. Not like it helps since everybody just put pictures.

Another side comment. Some people just don't get the idea that it's prom. I mean, IT'S PROM!!! You dress nicely because IT'S PROM!!! You don't have to understand it, just keep shouting IT'S PROM!!!

Anyway, me and Mobie ended up stranded along Plaza Singapura. Again. Thank god for us we bumped into a couple more people and headed for the movie theatre, which we found was closed. So he skipped down the road into a pool place. Yeah... Such a thrilling way to end off prom and the end of secondary school life. Seriously, doesn't ANYONE have a sense for a nightlife at sixteen?

After that short game, we went to eat at Lau Pa Sat at 3am in the morning!!! Woohoo! Night life rocks! All you pussies who went home right after prom sux! God do I sound like a brainless party-goer.

The BoBs, and a... What do you call a female Bob? Boobie?

The BoBs with a hairy addition

**********************************************************************
Ok, that's all you're gonna get until I get more brains and more sense to write a good entry. Till then, tata!

Night life rock!
*hick*

Synthesis

2005-12-01T19:53:00.000+08:00

NOTE: This entry concerns students from Yuqun Primary School Class of 6A 2001.

To view or print a copy of the invitation, click HERE

Dear friends

As stated on the entry on Wednesday, 31 August 2005 (scroll down to view), there will be a reunion outing on 10 December 2005. If you have not been contacted, please contact me via the contact number stated in the invitation (click the link to view the invitation).

The details for the outing are available in the invitation. You are also reminded to bring basic neccesities (change of clothes, towel, soap, beach mat, playing equipment, etc) for your own convenience.

The activities for that day will include water games, group games, lunch... Well, it's the sun, sand and sea out there, so you get the picture. Those with medical conditions or health restrictions (excludes refusal to be dumped in the water) must inform me (you-know-who) prior to the event. Ending time may vary.

Alright, I hope to see all of you guys there.

Signing out.

P.s.: For those interested, here's the link for the Yuqun memorial that I made in P6
http://www.geocities.com/slytherin_basilisk/yuqun.htm

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri

2005-11-02T11:03:00.000+08:00

Baiklah, untuk artikel Hari Raya ini sahaja, saya akan taip dalam bahasa Melayu. WAH!!! Inilah pertama kali saya taip dalam Melayu semenjak kali terakhir saya taip sepucuk karangan. Memang sudah terlalu lama...

Cukuplah dengan kata-kata mengarut di atas itu. Tinngal satu hari sahaja sebelum kita semua menyambut Hari Raya. (perasanlah bahawa di saat ini saya tidak tahu apa untuk ditaip)

Err...

Dalam bahasa Melayu, apa yang boleh dikatakan ya?

Hmmm...

Eh, memang tidak ada idea lah...

Zzzz...

Oi, jangan tidur dahulu...

*menggaru kepala*

Susah lah nak fikirkan idea...

Kerana tidak mempunyai idea, saya akan tulis sahaja tentang apa yang sedang berlaku, telah berlaku dan yang akan datang.

Wah, sudah hampir dua bulan semenjak pos terakhir saya! Bila lihat semula, pos itu di pertengahan peperiksaan prelim. Jauh memang... Sekarang, sudah hampir peperiksaan peringkat O pula. Di bawah, saya telah senaraikan kejadian-kejadian semenjak pos yang terakhir itu:

24 September: Peraduan kad Magic (Ravnica) sebelum keluaran

03 Oktober: Peperiksaan oral peringkat O Perancis

05 Oktober: Permulaan puasa dan bulan Ramadan

15 Oktober: Rumah terbuka NJC

17 Oktober: Permulaan perhentian sekolah untuk ulangkaji bagi perlajar mengengah empat

22 Oktober: Rumah terbuka ACJC

27 Oktober: Peperiksaan praktikal peringkat O Fizik

31 Oktober: Peperiksaan peringkat O Melayu

01 Nobember: Sambutan Deepavali

03 November: Hari Raya Aidilfitri!!!

Wah, banyak memnag kejadian semenjak pos yang terakhir itu ya? Tidak sangka saya (suara sarkastik).

Okey, untuk kejadian yang akan datang pula. Untuk budak-budak Melayu yang mmembaca pos ini, ketahuilah yang saya akan menjemput kamu semua untuk jalan-jalan raya pada minggu yang ketiga, yaitu selepas peperiksaan peringkat 'O' telah berakhir. Jangan khuatir, saya pasti akan menjemput kami semua (yelah tu...). Selain daripada itu, tunggulah sahaja untuk berita terkini daripada saya dalam masa akan datang.

Baiklah, sudah sampai ke akhir pos saya kali ini. Saya berharap semoga kamu semua akan menyambut Hari Raya yang meriah, maaf, zahir dan batin untuk apa sahaja salah yang saya telah katakan dan

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri

Kepada semua yang membaca.

On the darker side

2005-09-12T21:35:00.000+08:00

Felt like doing more of those lame quizzes. Quite cool, rather accurate. Enough said, just see. Oh, if you're looking for that piece of ficiton that I just wrote, it's the one below this entry.

Your connection with darkness is through your murderous ways/thoughts. You want to kill, get away with it and do it again and again etc. To be in charge of peoples lives, to decide if someone should live or die makes you feel powerful. And power is addicting. But chances are you haven't commited murder(torture/rape) yet. So far theese thoughts stay inside and haven't come to life. Most people wouldn't expect you to want to do this(maybe close friends/familymembers) since you look just like an ordinary Joe (but sometimes theese types stand out). In school you were likely the quiet one who seemed harmless. Isn't is fun to prove people wrong?

What is your connection with darkness? [pics]

Your soul is broken.

You are living through a lot of pain everyday that you have to deal with, which is making you sorrowful. No one ever stays by our side when you truly need them and no one ever will. Everything is hopeless and tragic and you keep yearning for the day you will be free from pain. Love is unlikely to happen to you because you isolate yourself and are suspicious of peoples motives. You stand in the shadows of the world, watching what you can never have. The bruises you carry never seems to heal, your mind is dark and no one seems to understand or wants to help. As always, you will be alone in the world, fighting your dark thoughts by yourself.

How is your soul? [pics]

Your element is Fire: Strong, hot tempered, powerful, and passionate. Well now lets see, being fire you are quite strong and powerful, people look up to you greatly and often seek your protection. You have the ability to gain many friends and you are always one people can count on to do what you say you will do. You are extremely loyal be it friends or family you'll stick up for them and you are never willing to put them in a position that could hurt them. You know what roll you play in life, leader, and you intend to let people know it. Not everyone is capable of leadership but you certainly have the willpower and flare to do it. You have quite a temper if it shows itself, one that can often lead you into trouble. Once your mind is made up there is no changing it but no one said that was a bad thing.

What is your element? [with pics + detailed answeres]

You are an assassin.

That means you are a proffessional and do your job without mixing any emotions in it. In your life you have probably been hurt many times and have gotten some mental scars. This results in you being distant from people. Though many think that you are evil, you are not. What you really are is a person, trying to forget your pain and past. You are the person who never seems to care and that is why being an assassin fits you good. Atleast, that's what people think. Even if you don't care that much for your victims, you still have the ability tocare and to generally feel. It is not lost, just a little forgotten. In crowds you tend to not get to noticed, and dress in black or other discrete colours. You don't being in the spotlight and wish people would just leave you alone. But once you do get close to someone you have a hard time letting go and get real down if you loose him/her.

Main weapon: Sniper

Quote: "The walls we build around us to keep out the sadness also keep out the joy" - Jim Rohn

Facial expression: Narrowed eyes

What Type of Killer Are You? [cool pictures]

Your power is: Time Control

Explanation: You have the ability to freeze, push forward or go back in time. In good purposes it is used to prevent bad deeds, and the opposite for evil purposes. As a person your emotional level has been on hold. For one reason or another emotions has reduced and now you aren't so full of life. And of course, this does not sadden you since you could care less. Sometimes though you can be hit by emotioal waves inside but you block it all out. You don't search for something that could make you happy since you have no hope in that area any longer. People probably see you as annoying because you're not involved and just stand there. You probably don't have that many friends either, and you feel like you are with them because that's what you normally do. You stick to your habits and don't appreciate changes.

Negative aspects: One day all emotions are gonna surface again, and that
day will be very painful. Instead it is more wise to start up the emotional
level bit by bit, so it won't come as a big chock.

What Power is Compatible With You? [beautiful anime pictures + 12 detailed results]

Your word is: Brooding. You are a true thinker and often try to figure out the meaning of life, why we are all here etc. You may not be so social, and often think twice before acting but those thoughts you have in your mind never stop flowing in. Sometimes you can be so concentrated you forget about other things that you have to do. Don't change, this world needs deep people.

What Dark Word Represents You? [anime pics]

Gilded Grimoire #05 - Down the Barrel - Obligation

2005-09-12T12:22:00.001+08:00

It's been a lovely weekend for me. In between the bustling of revision, I managed to slip a little petal that's blooming me open. So, yeah, you can say I'm a bit on the emo side right now.

Before going back from West Coast, I went around the park for a whiff of fresh air, with "The Loneliness - Babyface" ringing in my ears while messaging a new cordial acquaintance. It was a momentary bliss, but a memorable snapshot in time.

"You've hardly ever been kissed, but the kisses you've given are very missed."

With such inspiration and emotions running high, I've decided to release another one of my short stories. And boy, was I surprised to realise that the last fiction was in MAY!!! This time I've made 'obligation' the theme, so enjoy!

WARNING: The following fiction contains themes involving war, alcohol and death. NOT for the faint hearted.

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Gilded Grimoire #05 - Down the Barrel - Obligation
A fiction by Seraphim

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Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin! (nipperkin: mug of beer)

- The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy

I gave a cold stare at the man before me. There really was no reason not to. I was the one directing that morbid scene, an intense scene of the powerful over the helpless. It was not mercy that I showed, but something else.

I could have done it quickly, but for some reason a diabolical will within hissed me to do it slowly. As the despair of my prey surged through me, I could not help but shiver as my finger caressed the trigger.

Whatever sanity that I had was wondering at what I was doing in such a situation. Here I was, in the midst of this hellish battlefield, at the edge of victory, savouring a moment with my very own pet enemy. Maybe the bloodlust from the ongoing war was not enough; maybe a little indulgence in sadism was what I was really craving for. Whatever it was, I had my share of the fun now. I was short of reasons to keep him alive any longer.

A snigger slipped by my lips. I prominently cocked the sidearm, making sure that the cocking sound was audible to the both of us. At point blank, I squeezed an eye shut and took aim. My hand wavered around a bit to browse for a satisfying target. Out of ideas, I just decided to go for the head.

I cocked, I aimed, I shot.

But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.

- The Man He Killed

I was no fool. The battle might be lost, but no chance in hell was I going to skip down to hell without company. There was a fool in front of me though. Bloody Americans, always thought that they would win it all. Tough luck mate, not for you at least.

There was no point in living then, it’s either valour on the battlefield or torture in the hands of those bloody Americans. I watched that bastard prepare my ticket to hell, inside me screaming at my allowance for this humility. All was not lost, I reassured myself. I had his ticket to hell down my back. It was my blessing that he did not notice the loaded revolver tucking out of my back pocket. One way trip to hell coming right up.

Expected as it was, there was nothing to prepare me for staring down the barrel of that loaded gun. It was fear in its purest form, as the carnal instinct to survive kicked in. Accepting death was never part of nature’s plan. If I were not on my knees, they would have been nothing better than jelly. There was that damning sound from the gun, and a violent tremble shook through my body. This was it, I thought.

He cocked. He aimed. I aimed. He shot. I shot.

I shot him dead because--
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although

- The Man He Killed

Not my day I guess. And that would be the last day I would ever have. But I have to admit, that was a nice trick. Making me think that I had won the day, then pulling out the fast one back on me. It was not that bad at least. I died in pleasure from the sadism he granted me in my final moments.

Time really did seem to slow down, as I became part of the final act in that theatre of tragedy. They say your whole life flashes before you when you die. Well, not really. I only got to see the night before. It was a happy memory. My comrades and I spent the eve of the battle like we always did, bar hopping at the nearest town.

It was especially crowded that night. Not just with our men, but there seemed to be others out merry-making as well. There were the usual dose of drinks, cigars, and girls of course. Exhaustion prevented any bedroom activities that night, so we just settled for drinks with the locals.

There was this particular cheery man I happened to be of acquaintance of. Seemed like a local. We talked about life, family, war. What else do people in the middle of a war talk about these days? We never did talk about why we were there, but it was apparent that he was on the same boat as I was. Trying to find a bit of cheer in a graveyard.

That was it then. The ending chapter to my sad story of life. Nothing else to it. I had a final glance at that bastard before my eyes finally closed. Might want to thank him down in hell. Kind to think of it, the face was…

He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like--just as I--
Was out of work--had sold his traps--
No other reason why.

- The Man He Killed

The look on his face was definitely worthy of the final moments of my life. It sure made all that tension worthwhile. As I was falling down to my final resting place, I felt no regrets. Life was that, a sad excuse to die. Getting a bit of excitement before the end was the most I could get out of it.

I knew that this battlefield would be my deathbed. The cockroaches in the pantry were outnumbering our troops. The atmosphere back at the bunkers was a cold whisper from death itself. I escaped the murder into the heart of the town, to do what any troubled man would do around there: drink.

At least people were more at ease there. Despite all the worries that burdened any soul around there, everybody acted carefree. Had a bit of a chat with the people there. The girls did not seem too willing that night. Even had a real conversation with a foreigner. The drinks were sure not strong enough that night.

As I was falling, I finally looked beyond the barrel of the gun into that bastard’s face. It was a memory happy enough to ease my stay in hell. Kind to think of it, the face was…

Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown.

- The Man He Killed

…his. …his.

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Alright, maybe this one is a bit on the morbid side. But what the hell. I felt like it. So what do you think? Comment!

An advice to whoever wishes to hear:

If the love is true, then you would be willing to part from her.
For only if you return, and there is still love, then the love was true.
If you are never willing to part, obsessed with what you thought was love,
Then there was never love in the first place.
Just an obsession.

Council Outing - Senior's Account

2005-09-05T23:34:00.000+08:00

Last Saturday, on the 3rd of September 2005, the 6th Student Council had their first outing together (with some additions from the 5th council) and lately, some of them have been popping up with accounts of the outing on their blogs. So today, I'm here to offer a senior's account of the outing from the under-represented seniors' point of view.

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So it started off with a rainy day, early in the morning. Rise and shine! The meeting time for the seniors were delayed to 11 am. And there I was, at JE MRT station at 11, only to find out that everybody else was still at home doing their hair. Fast forward 45 mins later, got everyone down at the MRT platform. Everyone consisted of me, Omar, Alvin and Hafizah. Talk about under-represented.

We went to Harbourfront to grab some snacks, since the council was left with a measly amount in their funds. It rained, again, when we arrived there. Lazed around at cold storage, where we spent what was like half an hour choosing drinks, before finally setting off.

The seniors arrived to a funeral-silent scene. We found out later that they've already tired themselves out. That was at 1.30 pm, and some of them have already gone out like six hours before that. They sure don't sleep much.

The first thing that we did there after changing was... dump people!!! Nobody was safe from the water. Except Ms Ridz of course, who had the Aura of Detention to protect her.

Once we got bored of dumping, we went digging! Did a sand makeover of Arif, with extra large assets with the complete genital features and all. Thus the product of adolescent hormones running amok.

Boredom never lasted long on that day. There were always games to play. The kids were playing soccer, frisbee and other assortments of amusing activities to fill the time.

But best of all was the game of Dog and Bone, where everyone played. Simple, but highly amusing when played in the sand with all the cheery atmosphere. It was a battle between the seniors and juniors as we separated ourselves into two groups, one being the sec 2s and the other being the sec 3s and 4s. There were lots of accidents, violent wrestling, slipping, kicking, sand throwing and other nasty play, but it was fun nonetheless. Had a two rounds of that and obviously the supreme seniors won both. As punishment, the juniors had to do a forfeit.

For losing the first round, they had to do some butt spelling. Guess what the phrase was? 'Commonwealth Secondary School Student Council 2005'. Their butts deserved a spelling-B prize after all that.

For losing the second round, they won themselves a Funky Chicken display, including an all-original Ms Ridz version. That was a definite laugh for the seniors.

And like all outings, there's lots of pictures involved. I spotted the Bollywood trend of taking pictures behind trees in the photos, so let me present to you the Bollywood series:

Life is never empty of irony. Look at the following pic:

Then we found this:

Signboards lie...

And how can we forget the darling seniors... Yes people, zoom into Omar's head. It's not gelled!!! Wow! The whole world will make such a big deal about it and publish it in every tabloid on Earth! Sheesh, like anyone cares about that Omar...

We somehow got ourselves up there to take this wonderful picture. And unfortunately, no, Alvin's not dead. Damn.

So there you have it, our outing at the beach. One heck of a time. Had to cut it short since 'mummy' Ms Ridz couldn't stay long. Went back to Harbourfront where we rendezvous with Kel Vin (a fifth senior, yeah!!!) for dinner.

Went back home before nine! Gasp!!! That's early. The last time the council had an outing, most of us came back on the stroke of midnight! Hope to have the next one that long too, hehe, don't tell mummy that. That's all there is.

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Sure is a fresh change to have a day account on this blog. Nah, I'm not gonna do it all the time, too troublesome. Btw, tweaked the layout a bit to make it less irritating. Comment if you still find anything troublesome.

Woah, just realised that almost to the bottom, there hasn't been an intelligent entry in sight! I might lose my reputation as a good blogger. Gotta come up with something good soon...

And thanks to Cheryl and Geraldine for the pics! (and yes, they're hosting them, hehe)Go visit their blogs for more pictures from the outing, link's on the side. Phyo has a minute-by-minute account on his blog too. Check them out!

Another hint of boredom and stupidity. Lol.

Boredom

2005-09-01T17:37:00.000+08:00

I was bored, and found this, so there you have it.

Your Kissing Purity Score: 77% Pure

You've hardly ever been kissed

But the kisses you've given are very missed

Kissing Purity Test

Awe... That's so sweet...

Part Romantic Kisser

For you, kissing is all about feeling the romance
You love to kiss under the stars or by the sea
The perfect kiss involves the perfect mood
It's pretty common for kisses to sweep you off your feet

Part Passionate Kisser

For you, kissing is about all about following your urges
If someone's hot, you'll go in for the kiss - end of story
You can keep any relationship hot with your steamy kisses
A total spark plug - your kisses are bound to get you in trouble

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

Not bad...

Your Birthdate: February 4

Being born on the 4th day of the month should help make you a better manager and organizer.

You may be more responsible and self-disciplined than you realize.

Sincere and honest, you are a serious and hard working individual.

Your feelings are likely to seem somewhat repressed at times.

The number 4 has something of an inhibiting effect on your ability to show and express affections, as feeling are very closely regulated and controlled.

You are apt to be much more practical, rational, and conscious of details.

There is a good deal of rigidity and stubbornness associated with the number 4.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Wow, that's too freakishly accurate...

Alright, alright... Gotta get back to work...

Seraphim Anthology #06 - Of books and deeds

2005-08-31T21:46:00.001+08:00

It's teachers' day again, and as usual, I made cards for all the teachers. Just to fill in a blog entry, I've decided to post the contents of the cards in here. So here you go.

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Seraphim Anthology #06 - Of Books and Deeds
A poem by Seraphim

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[on front of card, it came with a white rose]

For a pure love
The deepest sorrow
Or joyful times
That may come tomorrow

The white rose

[inside the card]

Want all that you could offer
To become one that really matters
Tree of life, bound to its roots
For one life we live, from flesh to soot
Five days a week, knowledge we seek
Sick of routine, yet everyday we meet
Seven days straight, we loaded our brains
Ate no rewards, yet sorrow and pain
Nine tails of wisdom, persistent to achieve
Tan have our skins, now reward we reap

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Familiar? Yeah, it follows the style of my previous poem. Yeah yeah, not original I know. I fell asleep before I got to prepare the cards, so I did them the morning before I went to school.

Also, each card for each teacher had some additional fun text in them. I guess you might enjoy this one more, so read on.

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[to my English/literature teacher]

"For the purpose of this essay, 'happy' will mean 'to be off one's rocker' and 'teacher' will mean 'nutter'. With respect to the above,

Happy Teachers' Day!"

[to my maths teacher]

Girls = Time x Money
Time = Money
Girls = Money x Money = Money²
Money = √Evil
Girls = (√Evil)²
Therefore: Girls = Evil

So you see, boys are bad, but girls are evil!

[to my physics teacher]

"For every deed, there will be an equal and opposite repayment."
- Newton's law of kindness

[to my geography teacher]

"Through erosional processes such as training, determination, perseverance and kindness, the stack has developed into a wonderful teacher!"

[to my social studies teacher]

"I agree to a large extent that you are a wonderful teacher. From cross-reference and my knowledge of the context, I conclude so."

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Well, my teachers' day went well. Though didn't get to see much teachers... Spent the whole day till 3 at school, sorting out the IT club's 'neoprint' service. Not bad for our first publicity stunt, made more than a hundred bucks.

Didn't get to go back to primary school though, left school late. But did manage to go see a teacher at Mac's! To those whom I met there: nice seeing you guys again! Hope we see each other again soon!

ANNOUNCEMENT
P.S. to Yuqun Pri P6 classes of 2001: Me and the teachers are probably planning a reunion after the 'O's at chalet/buffet/etc. Keep the first week of December free!!! See you there!

Daily Schedule

2005-08-27T11:01:00.000+08:00

Saturday

0800 - Wake up - Check organiserW
WTF!!! Malay prelim on Monday!!! Haven't taken mother tongue for two months and now I need to improve two grades in two days?!?!

0830 - Malay practise paper
Bloody hell! I don't even recognise these words anymore!!!

1030 - Still doing Malay practise paper
*hysterical* WHAT ARE THESE WORDS?!?!

1045 - Still at it...
Oh! They're upside down!!!

1200 - Lunch
Nasi lemak! Nasi ayam! Mee soto! I can speak Malay now!!!

1230 - Double check organiser
WTF!!! English prelim on Tuesday! Must clear out corrupted vocabulary of obsceneties in three days?!?!

1300 - English practise paper
Summary of the passage: bullshit

1430 - Still doing practise paper
Replace the following words with a suitable word or phrase
practise english: useless

1530 - Still at it...
Do you agree that the elder should be treated as second class citizens?
Hell yeah

1700 - Triple check organiser
AAAAARRRRRGGGHH!!!!! @)*%&*$&%(^(#@^@$!!! French prelim on TUESDAY ALSO!!!

1800 - RIP

Meet the BOBs #01 - Eh-Oh!

2005-08-20T01:51:00.000+08:00

Just a little about my life in school. My clique call ourselves the Band of Brothers, ridiculously acronymed BOB. Recently, a friend of mine (one of the BOBs of course), started a fiction series in his blog (http://cursed-blessings.blogspot.com) that garbles about some of our adventures in school, in a farfetched exaggerated way. It was decided that I do a prequel for the series, covering how the clique first formed.

So here I am succumbing to fate and writing this prequel. I know that most of you probably won't understand it since it includes a lot of internal jokes (though I'll try to make it understandable). I'm writing this mainly for the sake of our own laughter, so what the hell. Hope you guys enjoy it!

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Meet the BOBs #01 - Eh-Oh!
The Band of Brothers

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"Holy shit, look up guys!", exclaimed Mobie to his zombie-like companions.

It was early in the morning of 2002 that the three of them met, on a short flight of stairs underneath a stretch of walkway. Above them, a group of senior girls were making their way to class.

Kimmy replied, "---- [EDIT] He drooled.

"Maybe if they don't notice us, we could do this all day...", fantasied Mobie.

That was short-lived however, as moments barely passed before before the silence was broken. "OH MY GOD! IS THAT A G-STRING!!!", enquired Shaibouzie with full intent.

The other two just gave him a cold stare. "WHAT DID I DO??? I know! Let's call this blessed passageway The Perverted Road to Hell!", Shaibouzie remarked, trying to flair some intelligence.

Thus started the clique, with the three founders. Let's intro them a bit.

Meet Mobie, Owner of Cursed Blessings. 170cm tall, not all that fair, spiky hair and seriously needs to gain some weight. Part time Deep Thinker, Full time Idiot and the Family Playboy.

Meet Shaibouzie, No blog owned. 168 cm tall, not all that fair, wires for hair, needs to go on a diet and needs to stop using a towel to wipe his face. Overtime Idiot and Elephant Man.

Meet Kimmy, Owner of kim productions. 172cm(plus minus) tall, not all that fair, aspires to be a golfer and like shaibouzie, needs to go on a diet. Part time Deep Thinker, Usually never with the rest and failed philosopher.

"Cool, so now we own a Perverted Road to Hell. That would so please God", commented Mobie cooly.

"Mwuahahahaha! Not anymore! I shall claim the Perverted Road to Hell as mine instead! Mwuahahahaargh*cough,cough*haha!". From the bottom of the staircsae, an enemy approached. It was none other than the formidable Buffalo King Herald.

"You!", said Kimmy. "As our enemy, we must... Err... Screw, no. Thank, no. Defeat, no. Smooch, no. Oh yeah, defeat you!"

"Quick! Hit him with a stick and a ball!" instructed Mobie.

Shaibouzie looked around. "I can't find a stick!"

"You're staring at it!" came the reply from Mobie.

"Now, where do I get a ball?" said Shaibouzie.

"You're staring at it!" replied Kimmy this time.

"So where am I aiming at?" asked Shaibouzie.

"Find a weak spot. The neck!" replied Mobie.

"I can't see one!" Shaibouzie shouted back hysterically.

"Just hit me!!!" cried out Kimmy.

"Alright. Here goes nothing", said Shaibouzie. He lifted the ball, found it too heavy, and decided to just hit it from the ground with the stick. He held the stick firmly from the base of the neck and swung hard. With a *swoosh* and a *whack* and a *crack* and an *OW*, Kimmy shot off towards Buffalo King Herald.

"Hahaha! You can't defeat me with that!" sneered the neckless king. Kimmy kept coming towards him. "Holy shit! The smell! The smell!!!"

And with that, the founders of the BOB won their first battle. As they were glaring themselves at the blazing sunset from behind the girls above them, they wandered at what would come next.

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So there goes the first part. Comment people, comment!!!

Rafahn Ranting in Red

2005-08-14T12:56:00.000+08:00

Rafahn

Recently was big baby Singapore's 40th birthday. Kind of makes you think, for a person, 40 years is quite old already. Thank god countries don't suffer menopause or impotence, I think.

Some people say life starts at 40. If you ask me, it's more like your paying life starts at 40. Once at that age, you seem to be paying for everything now: your bills, your children's bills, your wife's shopping, your children's shopping, well you get what I mean. Seems like Singapore is no different. We're paying extra for simple things like water and getting your car on the road.

So there I was, in Farhan's head, on the bus after having missed a stop. Again. I was thinking at what makes Singapore, well, Singapore. Looking out the window, it's quite easy to recognise. It's one of the only places with distinct fashion. There's the Chinese in tank-top and shorts, the Malays in tapered pants and the Indians in... What do they wear again?

Then there's the shopping centres. If you think about it, there's a shopping centre at every MRT station. Counting in the other shopping centres, that's a lot of shopping places. Add those two up and you'll have a shopping centre every two kilometres! You can imagine a marathon with shopping centres as pit stops.

"Oh no, that runner looks like he's not gonna make it. Just a little more and you'll be at Causeway Point, where they're having a 50% discount at Metro storewide!"

"SALE!!!", vroooooooom!

Sometimes, when I pass by the more ulu forested areas, I like to imagine myself in another country. You know, to destress from bustling Singapore. But the moment I turn back into the bus, you see the auntie beside you saying, "Wah, Singapore so hot hor!"

And you know your fantasy's over.

Well, being in Singapore isn't all that bad. At least you get to demonstrate your democratic abilities. Probably once in your lifetime, hopefully.

It looks like our Excellency will be running around for another six years. No one else seems to be up to face his 'dark' wrath. We can't say that's a bad thing either, after checking his profile. Turns out that Mr High Pants has done quite a bit. To date, he's been a social worker, director of the security and intel dept, Foreign Affairs permanent secretary, executive chairman of Straits Times Press, commissioner to Malaysia and president of good old Singapore. Phew, that's quite a list. So he really does do more than pop up and smile at events.

Taking a look back, the other presidents don't seem as flashy. Let's see... First we have Yusof Ishak. He literally was a figurehead, just to take the place as Head of State until he died 5 years after taking his post. To date, he has... his face on our money.

Benjamin Shears wasn't such a bad guy. Being Eurasian, makes us wonder if the British set him up to take care of ickle lil Singapore back then. They've got good reasons, the previous president died just to have his face on money. Shears was an obstetrician (a person who enjoys a woman's squeal as she gives birth) and taught at the University of Malaya (teaching.... how to squeal?).

Onto the next race, Devan Nair. The races seem to take turns here. He had his fair share of political achievements, but who in the right mind would be president of Singapore then live in Canada? He would. He did leave us a nice joke. Your know, the one with his wife screaming "Nair! Nair! Fire!" in the kitchen, which led to the '995' telephone hotline.

Singapore was lucky to have a people's person for the next president. Wee Kim Wee was highly popular, with experience as the chairman of the Singapore Broadcasting Corporation, now called MediaCorp. At least he enjoyed his last days here until his bladder burst him to death.

Finally! Singaporeans used democracy! First elected president was Ong Teng Cheong. Left a legacy of arts that gave birth to the Esplanade and Singapore as an arts hub. The guy kicked the bucket at a suspicious age of 66.

Having seen all that, I guess Mr High Pants isn't so bad after all. Hope he leaves us more than just his face on our money.

Roaring in Red

2005-08-09T23:40:00.000+08:00

From right behind me, there came a steadily pitching hissing noise. I turned around just in time to see the projectile give a loud "bang", and turned into a most amazing spectacle of fireworks that close to the ground.

The date: 9th August 2005, place: Jurong East Heartland Celebration. Yes, I was one of the thousands out in the open on the night of the National Day.

"Do not ask of what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country."

This saying has been proven true through and through, though around us Singaporeans still practise their hobby; complaining. They complain about the government, the weather, the educations system, anything imaginable. Now let us just consider the otherwise for a second. What has the country done for us?

A Singaporean would enjoy a lifetime of democracy, meritocracy, freedom of speech (compared to restricted speech elsewhere, this freedom is more than you think), a thriving economy for an island thought impossible to survive, sufficient welfare services, uncorrupted governance, freedom in religion, a voice for every ethnic group, protection against prejudice, sanctuary from terrorism, among many other benefits. Students further enjoy the edusave reduction, a comprehensive economy-driven education and a merit-based system.

With all of these, who would in the right mind still ask what the country has done for them?

Around me, people of countless differences were gathered. Their eyes told me of one purpose: to celebrate the nation's independance. I could only understand why they would want to commemorate the independance of the nation that has given them so much. Looking back at the crisis that made us instead of break us, I truly acknowledge the existence of the Singapore spirit. A nation can unite.

Racist? Maybe. Patriot? Definitely.

With forty years of wishes,
Happy Birthday Singapore

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The WIlderness Series #02 - Behind These Wandering Eyes

2005-08-07T14:31:00.001+08:00

Rafahn: Well, I've been rotting in Farhan's head long enough. Since he's down, I'll be doing a full-length article this time. Can you believe it? An article of my own!!! So, I'll make do without all the crap that Farhan always comes up with and share with you something that's close to your hearts. So.... enjoy!

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The Wilderness Series #02 - Behind These Wandering Eyes
An article by Seraphim

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We've all gone through life, had a fair share of its hardship and shed a few tears. But the most memorable moments were the ones when we shared with a loved one. Speaking about loved ones, it's interesting to note how a guy can change when they face their counterparts. Today, let's take a look at some of these 'transformations'.

The Playboy
This is an obvious category; the name says it all. This guy is a sucker for relationships. Often we'll find him having more than one relationships at once. Let's not call it two-timing, let's call it multi-tasking. Commitment is a non-existent word for this guy. What pleases this chap are things that usually pleases his eyes. Like a busy fisherman, he'll reel in all the fresh, pretty fishes that comes near his line.

The Obsessed
While the Playboy is a sucker for relationships, this guy's a sucker for a specific girl. There's a slight understanding of commitment to him, at least as long as his obsession lasts. The distinct tell-tale sign of an Obsessed is the way he acts towards his girl. His fingers would twirl around his cellphone, bracing for an SMS from her, he can never keep her out of his conversations, and the ultimate confirmation of an Obsessed: he would die if his girl doesn't wave back. Yeah, I can hear the "ooh"s and the "ah"s already. You know what kind of person I'm talking about here right? A little like the Playboy, an Obsessed gets obsessed with a person who would catch his sore spot. If a girl were to find herself in the grasp of an Obsessed, don't reject him. Clean out his pockets first, he'll gladly do it.

The Desperado
This is an easy one to figure out. This guy's just plain old desperate. He's the type who's either new to relationships, became a host to newly raging hormones or been out of a relationship for too long. It's quite easy to recognise a Desperado; he'll try to catch anyone within his grasp. Either for a friend or a relationship, he'll grab them all. Usually likes to make known the fact that he's a real man and that he's got the girl to prove it. This guy wants to get the type that he wants, but beggars can't be choosers like they say, so he'll just grab them as they come.

The Family Man
This type's been getting more popular over the years. This guy's got a bit of the Playboy in him, but the difference is he won't admit them as relationships. Confused? Try replacing the word "girlfriend" with "sister" or whatever crackpot name they could think of. Does that ring any bells? We have to give them credit for one thing though, for calling their girlfriends 'sisters', they get one huge advantage: they can have as many girlfriends as they want without being accused of two-timing. Smart eh? I mean, it's logical, you can't have many girlfrineds but you can have many sisters. Man, this guy could have enough simultaneous relationships to make Playboy jealous. Like I said, this guy would never confess his love for his counterparts, calling it 'brotherly love' or something. Ugh, lame...

The Elephant Man
They say an elephant never forgets. I say an elephant has one hell of a thick skin. Just like our Elephant Man here. This guy's got a bit of the Desperado in him, with the difference being he doesn't acknowledge his own desperation himself. A master of drama, he'll act as if people actually think he's the hottest thing on legs, but of course the truth is much far off. Realising this is an impossibility for him, as he'll be obliged to keep thinking of his dellusional hot self. I guess there's no need to describe how this guy looks like; everything that's not what he says.

The Prince Charming
Don't get me wrong, the Prince Charming isn't the handsomest of them all. Hey, it's hard to keep beauty in royal blood you know. The Prince Charming is simply a guy who can keep his relationship (that's singular), quite a diversion from the guys above. He's not the sick one like the Obsessed, not dellusional like the Elephant Man and definitely not a Desperado. Just a guy who has a good old clean relationship, the classic type. That's not to say this guy's perfect. His imperfections? Er... I'll have to think about that...

The Lone Wolf
Aha, the final one on the list of misfits. Let's just get to the point here. This guy walks alone and wants to stay that way. Que themse song "Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams", heh. That's not to say he's gay either, since I'm talking about guys here, not people in between. This guy just wants to walk the lonely road on the boulevard of his own dreams. He doesn't mind it. I think.

So there you have it, the different classifications of the male mindset. Go figure out which one you are. Remember, in the real world, they tend to mix and match, so have fun classifying yourselves!

Forbidden Files #03 - A Rainbow in Black and White

2005-07-30T23:30:00.001+08:00

Finally, I'm back. Oh, it's Farhan here. You want to make sure? Ok, ask me a personal question. What's my hobby? Blogging!!! I know Rafahn's been taking over, so if you want to make sure just ask him a personal question. Ok, that was lame. Anyway, I'm trying to come back with a blast here with the third Forbidden Files entry. I hope you'll enjoy it, so here goes!

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Forbidden Files #03 - A Rainbow in Black and White
An exposé by Seraphim

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Not more than five decades ago, Singapore was a much different place. Besides the difference in infrastructure and culture, there was one major element that was missing: racial tolerance. That's barely racial harmony, just racial tolerance. No, I'm not really going too deep into Racial Harmony Day here, but my intention is to arise the fact that not too long ago, the difference in race was a reason for riot in Singapore.

Readers might want to note on the difference between racial harmony and racial tolerance at this point of time as it will play an integral part in this article.

After the nation's claim over its liberty, four decades have passed since the riots took place. Soon, Singapore will be celebrating fourty years of independance. On the mark of four decades of independance, one might ask what has been achieved over all those years?

Achievements in technology and economics are nothing to the face of the world, where competition holds the likes of Japan and United States. A more significant achievement would be to overcome the challenges of the past. That brings us to the point: Have forty years really diminished racial differences? Or is racial intolerance still at large but done in more discreet manners?

Allow me to tackle on my eternal grudge with the government. The effort that the government has put in to propagandize racial harmony into the minds of every living soul in Singapore is admirable. The phrase "racial harmony" has been drilled into the minds of every Singaporean since birth. The education system is overflowing with lessons that educate students on the practices and beliefs of the different races in Singapore. By the time a student reaches adulthood, racial tolerance is no more a conscious effort, but an integral part of their living.

All these, I must admit, are not to be deemed sins of the powerful as it did, to an extent, achieve what it was meant to do. But as we all know, nothing can go against the force of will. And what exactly are the wills of those who carry the boiling blood of the intolerant people of the past?

Wake up fellow Singaporeans. Racial intolerance is still at large out here. Examples are lying out there naked for all to see. Put together forty people from mixed races into a class and see how the first cliques are formed. No doubt they would first be separated by race. How many of us still ask ourselves of a person's race when judging the person, for whatever reasons you can think of. The point here is that Singaporeans still ask this basic racist question, "What's his/her race?"

There may be a rainbow of races in Singapore that co-exist harmoniously on the surface, but they are nonetheless viewed as either black or white.

Let me paint a sharper picture with specific examples.

Being the dominant race, the Chinese are rarely the target of discrimination since they are the ones who discriminate. With that as a fact, I regretfully admit that I can barely recall any example against them. But then again, who do they think they are to take over the former Malay grounds of Singapura? Let's face it, they actually took over the country. From the all-powerful Lee Organisation to the lowering of university requirements to favour the Chinese (this is too good, you have to check this out yourself, there were reports that MENDAKI was furious).

Next comes the Malays. It would be good for you to read my first Forbidden Files entry for a deeper scoop on this. Let's see now, where to begin discriminating... Starting off with the sad fact that they take up a higher proportion of juvenile crimes, abortion and divorce to the ridiculously 'trendy' Mats and Minahs. I love the latter, they walk around flashing as if they're trying to get a bargain for a brain. They might be the bumiputras but what have they done? Let's see... try nothing. Compared to the other races they barely have any significant achievement. And that's a singular on "achievement".

If the Malays are easy to discriminate, nothing would be easier to discriminate than the Indians. Racist Indian jokes are a school commodity. When was the last time you heard a racist Indian joke? Last month, last week or yesterday? Invisible Indians in the dark are a classic. Fact: they're black, they're ugly and they stink. Literally. I mean, the worst case scenario in Singapore would be to get stuck in a lift with an Indian. Enough said before I die of laughter.

As you can see ladies and gentlemen (or megalomaniac Chinese, Mats and Minahs or invisible Indians), we're still a long way from racial harmony. Call me racist, I think I've deserved it.

My point for mentioning all of the above is not to arouse anger in the races amongst themselves, though that might be unavoidable, but to make everyone realise that they've got to stop taking races into consideration. Completely. Period. No strings attached. For harmony is the ignorance of its counterparts, not its remembrance.

Only then can there be a hope of true racial harmony.

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Phew, glad that one's over. Now, comments people! Comments!!!

Seraphim Anthology #05 - Earth Day

2005-07-19T14:16:00.000+08:00

Rafahn: Hello again folks, just trying to fill up space here. Oh yeah, if we've just met, read the previous entry for my intro.

This entry is just something that Farhan came up with for the Earth Day poem thing. Seems like he ran out of ideas when he wrote it. Oh well, if he wants some drain washed poem to be on his blog, so be it.

So, here it is for your momentary enjoyment (or not)

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Seraphim Anthology #05 - Earth Day
A poem by Seraphim

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Gray, the shade of the clouds
Descend to the ashes my talon grasp smoke
Where are the azure mists where once my cry was shrill?
Where are the emerald glades where I swooped in for a meal?

Raven is the sea, life is now devoid;
Where once the mermaids swim and beam their nights spent merry-making;
Cinder is the forest, growth is now frozen;
Where once the wood nymphs dance in trance their faces were always grinning.
Sable is the air, motion is now halted;
Where once the sun motes swing and sing their lights were ever shining.

My wings I spread, in flight I've read the polluted landscape
Long I do the plains of yellow for me to escape
Wish I do the woods of green, man has yet to shape
Soil, flame, rain, wind
Hope...

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Ah feathers, told you it's bad. Farhan really lost his marbles on this one. I guess that's it for today. See ya all some other time then.

Within Now Without

2005-07-19T14:01:00.000+08:00

Rafahn:
*stretch* *bones cracking* *yawn*
Man, it feels good to be back. For the less acquainted, no, I am not Farhan. I guess most of you have no idea who I am. Allow me to properly introduce myself.

My name is Rafahn, Farhan's alter-ego. I am an entity that resides in the deepest crevices of his mind, reading his every thought and memory. For an age now, since his last blog, that he kept me locked up in his dirty mind. At long last I could release my rush of creativity, like the title of this entry. Fine, probably most of you can't even comprehend what the title means. Anyway, Farhan regrettably announces that he has to be away from his blog due to a deprivation of inspiration. That should explain his seven week absence. For the time being, I'm here to fill him in.

In the upcoming days, I wish to dig out some of his memories and stash them here. That will include some accounts of his dirty (to an extent that is true) experience in Japan and his thoughts about the recently released Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Well now dear readers, I hope that we have made a good first account with each other. I very much look forward to reaching out to you soon.
P.s.: Not to mention plotting with me to take over Farhan and his blog...

Gilded Grimoire #04 – Two Face Too Many – Façade

2005-05-16T23:12:00.001+08:00

Alright people, I’m back from exams. And I won’t apologize to say sorry that I have not posted for more than a week and that I hope you guys are still reading. I’m not doing that. Anyway, today I’m back doing what I did last six months ago, fiction writing! It just struck me as astonishing that the last time I wrote a fiction for my blog on the 11th November 2004, and that’s like six months ago!

For those who have never read any one of my fiction (which I think includes all of you), here’s a quick intro on what Gilded Grimoire is. It is a series of individual short stories about basically anything but are based on a central one word theme. I’ve started with Vengeance, and then went on to Hopelessness, Resistance and Imperfection. For today, I’ll be tackling Façade.

So there you go folks, enjoy.

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Gilded Grimoire #04 – Two Face Too Many – Façade
A fiction by Seraphim

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And the man just dropped dead.

The former terrorist fell down with a loud thud, followed by a silence of astonishment and occasional gasps. The four friends remained huddled where they were throughout the whole ordeal, too stunned by the spectacle before them. The fifth friend released himself from his attacking stance, staring at his handiwork that was the fallen man and a quick glance at the gun on the floor. It must be one of life’s ironies that the gun was in the hands of the man, a weapon of murder in the hands of the murdered.

The actual surprise to the huddled forms was not the death of the man, but the fact that one of them actually did it. They stared at their fifth friend in doubt, unsure of what to make out of the situation. Moments ago he sat huddled with the rest of them and the next moment he transformed, in looks and being, into that form that saved them all.

The surprise was the face of their fifth friend. It was not his.

30 minutes earlier

The band of five lay seated on the moss-covered floor. All of them were awake now, starving but conscious. The stench of the sewers had long left their thoughts as their worries dismissed that. A masked guard stood over them, a gun in his hand and eyes showing eagerness to put his sidearm to use. Somewhere else behind him, hidden among the shadows, stood his fellow accomplices speaking into a cell phone.

It must have been a day or so since the boys were kidnapped. It was hard to tell under the darkness of the sewers with only a fading light for illumination. As they were walking back the previous night, from the cover of the night came these masked men. The men covered their heads, beaten them and brought them to this forsaken place.

“What exactly are we looking for sir?” asked the man with the cell phone, with it on hands-free mode for his colleagues to hear. With nothing else to do, the boys decided to eavesdrop into the conversation.

“Well, that’s the problem you see,” replied a croaked voice from the cell phone, voicing with frustration and murderous intent. “The boy we’re looking for, he’s rather tricky. For some reason, no one knows how he looks like.”

I’ve always been living my life like this; a normal life by day and a more disturbing one by night. Under the cloak of darkness I would go about with my secret life, the life of a vagabond, unsure of what I’m looking for but always holding on to the hope that my purpose lies somewhere out there.

When I was small, my parents left me because of what I am. The first time it happened, my face initially turned into a blank canvas, waiting for the artist to define it. Then my hair changed, followed by the contours of my face, and then the eyes. My parents stared at me in disbelief, unsure of what to make out of me. Eventually, they decided I was too much of a worry for them. They abandoned me.

Apparently confused, the masked man continued, “So how do we know who’s the real one?” There was a pause, then the croaked voice sounded again, “You’ll have to meet back with me, I have some new information that you’ll have to see that might help. For now, you must know that whoever he is, he is the one with the information we need. And if you really have the real one with you, beware. It is said that he’s rather… dangerous.”

For a moment, the boys stared wide-eyed at each other. Then an awe-struck one spoke, “They’re looking for just one of us? You mean one of us is dangerous?” That statement brought out another silence. “Wait, they’re not even sure we’re who they’re looking for. I mean, they don’t even know how the guy looks like,” came the reply from a calm-faced one. “For all we know, they could have made a mistake.”

“But there’s also a possibility that one of us is just a disguise,” rebutted a more concerned one. “Furthermore, that guy is supposedly dangerous.”

Without hesitation, an optimistic voice came. “Don’t be ridiculous, we’ve known each other for ages. How can any of us be of any danger?”

Since then, I’ve been on the constant search for the place where I would truly fit in, normal, like everyone else. With each place comes a new face for me, afraid of having someone recognize my true self.

Whenever I change my looks, it is as if the whole world changed. My looks are not the only thing that changes; it goes along with my personality, like a role playing scenario. It is amazing how one’s perception utterly differs from one person to another. Each person’s perception is the product of the accumulation of the person’s life experience and opinions, with each person having their own encyclopedia of the world. There is a whole new world through different eyes.

Sometimes, I would wonder if it was right to deceive everyone around me. It is true that seeing is not necessarily believing. But I have come to assure myself that what I do is no different from what everyone else does. Everyone walks around with a mask of their own, showing one side of themselves to some and another side to others. The only difference between me and everyone else is that my masks are more physical.

“How can you be so sure?” came the voice of the fifth, unquestionably doubtful. “Now I don’t even know who to trust. Look, if any of you are who they’re looking for, just own up. For the sake of our safety.”

“Silence!” roared the masked guard. “I’m sick of your ramblings! If you so much as to utter another word, I swear I’ll shoot you where you sit!”

With that last remark, the awe-struck one shook. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die”, he whispered. In a hushed voice, the concerned one spoke, “Have you ever wondered, what exactly we live for?”

It was apparent to me that with my ability comes a purpose. The problem is, there seems to be no clue as to what that was. As I wandered along the darkened streets a night moons ago, it struck me. If I can’t find my purpose, then maybe I could create one.

Seeming like a doppelganger was a trait that gave me an edge. With it, I have managed to enter the most secured of vaults, the most secret of lairs and the most obvious of places unnoticed. Even the president’s office was not safe from my reach. People wonder what some of the greatest people in the world do, but I have come to note that the most wondrous things are the simplest ones. Like for example, what struck me as wondrous about the president is what he eats.

With excess to virtually everywhere, it was obvious that I have my hands on dangerous information. That is how I go about with my life, trading secret information on the black market. It did not disturb me the intention of the information’s use to the bidder. After all, I can be anyone, the enemy and the ally. But it did strike me as disturbing how I live my life. And to think all that I want is a normal life.

That last question left everyone stumped. Was there a right answer to that question? That thought kept everyone thinking.

“Oi, you there, keep the kids under control. Me and the guys gotta meet up with the boss. He said he has something we might need.” shouted the masked man from beneath the shadows. “Alright, go ahead. These boys ain’t going nowhere.” replied the guard.

The splashing made by their footsteps grew fainter as they left the place where the boys were kept. Though most of the men were leaving, the boys did not seem more assured. It was as if they knew there was an impending doom upon the place.

The tension was to the point of utter intolerance. The guard playfully pointed the gun towards the boys, revealing the barrel of the gun threatening the presence of a bullet through it. When all of them thought that the tension would become more murderous that the gun, the doubtful one stood.

That was when they all knew.

One moment he was just another one of them with paranoia written all over his face, the next moment he was barely recognizable. As he stood, his features started the transformation. From the top of his head, his hair was the first to morph, then his face and then the rest of his body. Standing at his full height, he was a totally different person.

“You,” remarked the guard, unsurprised by the sudden metamorphosis.

“Yes me,” the stranger replied in a calm, casual voice. With flight of feet he moved with blinding speed, reappearing in the blink of an eye behind the captor. A harrowing glare shone in his eyes before he made his next move, apparently signaling the end for the masked guard.

There was no loud bang, no stab in the guts, or the sound of fighting. All the remaining four boys knew was that there was a “crack”, and that it was all over.

And the man just dropped dead.

I knew that I they would find out someday. I knew that it was not possible to keep up a mask forever, but I never intended for them to find out this way. The truth is, it happened, and that I could not change what has been.

As I stared back at the four of them, I knew that I would look back to the times we had and miss them. But now that they knew, I could no longer remain. It would only endanger them further. So I turned to them with a smirk of goodbye, and ran.

Trickster. Liar. Betrayer. Protector.

What will I be next?

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Phew, months of not writing fiction sure made me rusty. But it was fun nonetheless. For those who are confused, note that there are a few POVs (point of views) in the story. And oh, if you have missed it (which is most probable), the whole story is rather symbolic in most aspects of it, that’s why it took some time to write. I would appreciate it if you would take your time to indulge in them.

Then again, you might not.

Me, Professional Hypocrite

2005-05-04T19:19:00.000+08:00

God, how did I ever manage to spill all that bullshit? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking out loud. For today, I've finally gotten sick and tired of my usual columns so I'd like to deviate a bit and write about a popular theme: Hypocrisy.

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Me, Professional Hypocrite

"Say to others what you wish to be said to yourself."
- popular old saying by some unknown goddamn person

Let us all just stop doing whatever god-forbidden activity that we are all doing right now and have a moment of enlightenment for a second. Let's think, how many of us here have heard or are guilty of saying "I hate backstabbers, betrayers, liars, bitches/bastards (and their synonyms)"? Yet a closer look would tell us that we belong to the very category that we've mentioned above.

Yes people, this is no exposé, everyone's a hypocrite. Oh shut up and don't say no. You're a hypocrite too, yes you, the one saying you're not. If you hate me for saying this, then congratulations, you've just joined the Hypocrite Club. Strange how we could hate the very qualities that we ourselves possess.

Allow me to give you a personal encounter with a hypocrite (actually all you have to do is just look for someone else). The other day, I went to have a haircut. Now, I'm a paranoid person but nothing scares me more than going to get a haircut, because that is when I really get paranoid. I could kill you before you could even strike me but when I go for a haircut, the paranoia becomes overwhelming as I sit helplessly in that Throne of Doom as another person holds sharp tools (capable of performing the most brutal murder) close to my head. What's more, I have to do it willingly.

Back to the topic. The guy who cuts my hair is kinda interesting. I'm quite familiar with him as I always look for him at the usual place for haircuts. Well that doesn't sound quite right. Anyway, the thing about him is that as he does his stuff with the objects of brutal murder, he has a knack of asking me about my academic life. There's always that pause between snips for him to commence his lectures proper.

In those so called 'lectures', I'd pick up things about how to study better, the methods to score papers, how the education system sucks, same goes for government (stuff that taxi drivers complain about) and things like that amidst my constant nods and grunts every 2 to 3 minutes. The thing that I always wondered was if he knew so much about all those things, why in the world is he still grazing about people's hair? Then he would go on telling me how well his kids are doing etc etc.

During those moments I always had the urge to jump out of that Throne of Doom and give him a lecture. Firstly, he has his facts wrong, like that time when he mixed up Newton with Edison. Secondly, I think he has the impression that I was some dirtbag dropout. Excuse me mister, but I'm studying at some god-forsaken yet so-called prestigious school, hold appointments in everything I am in and probably going to a hell-lot better JC than your cunt-dripping daughter.
Editors note: Whoops, did that turn out too harsh?

Anyway, he's quite an amusing guy.

Go ahead guys, take a moment and relate yourselves to the story above or look for the inner hypocrite in you. Find it and hold on to that thought as you read the following.

With respect to the topic of hypocrites, let me start a new leaf for everyone and blurt out some optimistic lines instead of their pessimistic versions.

"I don't hate backstabbers because I luuuurve them. These people are my friends as we're friends not because of the happpy moments we've shared but the amount of times we've stabbed each other in the back. Heck, I probably had my share of stabbing and getting stabbed too. How could anyone hate these people when everyone's a backstabber too? Backstabbers should be loved, not hated."

"I don't hate liars now as I've realised that liars equate to every human being. My friends lie to me all the time but I do not hate them for it. Instead I appreciate them for being who they are. Heck, I'm a liar too. I lie all the time, to my family, friends, teachers, everyone. Lies make the world go round and we should all embrace it's ironic truth."

There, those are what people should be saying instead of the stupid common cliché lines of hatred that is often heard. Accept yourselves and everyone else for who they really are. Do not turn away from reality.

Come people, from this day forth, we shall address ourselves as Me, Professional Hypocrite. Let the whole world know who we really are.

Until then, let your inner hypocrite out to play.

The Wilderness Series #01 - Of Glitter and Silk

2005-04-27T20:19:00.001+08:00

Hello again readers. Allow me to apologize for the excruciatingly long article before this one. I guess I got carried away, and all that words seemed to have dampened the effect of the contents. Since that is the case, I’ll hold back the continuation until enough readers request for it.

For now, I have composed a little something about a topic that is very close to my heart. If the title doesn’t give away the answer, then read on. If you’ve figured it out already, just read on anyway.

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The Wilderness Series #01 - Of Glitter and Silk
A tribute to the student councillors
An article by Seraphim

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[ Part I ]
Early morning, at the start of another school day, I stepped into the school feeling as though I’m doing it for the first time, for this time, there was something different. Unknowingly, I slipped into the morning crowd towards where my class was seated. It all seemed normal, yet I could not dismiss the emptiness that now resided in my heart.

I did not need a reminder of what I was missing, but a reminder was what came into my sight. From across the parade square I saw it; a glitter of gold reflecting the might of the morning sun and a swish of blue silk cascaded by little torches. It was the councillors’ badge and tie.

For almost as long as I have been in my school, the only version of myself that I could remember was as a councillor. But now that I have stepped down, my whole school life was seen in a whole new light. Without my appointment, I have begun to realize that being a councillor means a whole lot more than just wearing the badge and tie. Now that I am without it, I have begun to miss it.

One might ask, what is it about a councillor anyway? A councillor is truly to be a class above the rest. Their lives are dominated with authority and discipline, from the very start of the morning. A councillor’s routine starts with the punctual reporting and performing of duties. To even broaden the gap differentiating councillors and mere students, they even sit at a separate place. Checks on appearance and punishment are even done internally, isolated from outside influence. But that is just what everyone sees.

To be a councillor is to be more than just a disciplinarian. Every councillor is part of a bigger picture, one that have come to terms as family, for their relationship among one another is that close. Within the council itself are systems to keep every councillor in check, from their discipline to their very welfare. Councillorship is not to just be looked at, but also to be looked after. Only with that kind of unity can the council function properly.

Truly, a family exists within the council. They share numerous joyful moments together. A councillor’s life is full of outings for bonding, pizza treats for laughs and chats for the sake of fun.

This is not to say that it is an easy life. The consequence of misconduct is far more severe for a councillor. Upon their shoulder sits a very heavy responsibility, concerning not just themselves but the whole student body, as that is where their service and purpose lies. On the other hand, with these downsides in their lives their bonds become stronger, for it is not the happy times shared that brings people closer, it is the sad times that does.

[ Part II ]
For me, my life as a councillor was an unforgettable one. My batch was the earliest to be recruited, with our selection near the end of secondary one. Before we were even recruited, we were fortunate to participate in a selection camp, where our performance influenced our chances of proceeding.

Since the investiture was in mid sec two, there was an awkwardly long probation period. Most of us took this in a good sense as we got to do what the other batches did not; get to know the Exco. Due to the short coinciding service duration, the other batches of recruits barely had much chance to interact with their Exco, so we were considered lucky.

The official start of councillorship was a grand one, with a grand investiture and a councillor dinner just a week after that. Working with the new Exco was quite a fulfilling experience. We got to know how the other tick through daily duties and the torturing camps we endured. Kind to think of it, it was under their leadership that the most trying camps was conducted.

Then came my third year in school, qualifying me for an Exco appointment. Naturally, I was nominated for an Exco position. Looking back at the time before becoming an Exco, the journey before it was the most significant. The assistant Exco had to put together a play done by the new recruits, and to me it was under that pressure that we got to know each other by name. The final Exco was not as we expected. There was a lot of discontent (especially me) amongst us, something that we later found to have a different effect.

The Exco was finalized, and we had to bear our grudges against one another. The Exco were really strangers to each other at the beginning, some even had enmity between each other. Through our service for the council, we developed a strange dependency for togetherness, and become the closest of friends.

Now it is sadly the end of that road for us. The last part of it was the most tasteful. The Exco had a first hand experience at the process in the selection of the new recruits. Only then did we realize the importance this had to the school. We weren’t just separating the good from the bad, instead planning for the future of the school. Being a councillor gives one an opportunity to make a change, a power that could not be taken lightly. Only those with the purest of intentions were endowed with such power.

The investiture was yet another symbolic part of my service. The transition of the Exco was the sifting of the sand from the previous Exco to the next, symbolizing the handing down of our legacy and knowledge to live on in the new council.

Now that the 5th Executive Committee members along with the other councillors have stepped down, we sit back to watch the newly formed 6th Student Council fall into place and hopefully, bring up the legacy of the councillors.

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A big thank you to all those who have helped the councillors in one way or another.
To the teachers who led us, a big hug for your perseverance and support.
To the ex-councillors under the charge of the 5th Exco, we salute you for your undying dedication to our cause.
To the 5th Executive Committee members themselves, there never was a tighter friendship than ours. I’ll always miss you guys.
To the 6th Student Council and its Exco, you can’t go looking for that light at the end of the tunnel. You have to spark it yourself. Now.

Forbidden Files #02 - Picking the Brain

2005-04-16T00:18:00.001+08:00

Sorry to keep all of you guys waiting so long for this exposé. No one regrets this wait more than I do, believe me. You’ll be glad to know that this one will be a worthy read, or so I hope.

For this exposé, I’ll try to hit more for the wow factor than the controversy factor. It’s a topic hitting closer to home, or the graduating batch specifically. What I’m talking about here is the Adam Khoo workshop, what is formally known as the ‘I am GIFTED, so are YOU’ program. For others who did not attend it or don’t even know about it, don’t worry. I’m writing a full introduction and explanation for it.

Before you continue reading this, remember that the objective of this specific exposé is to reveal to readers what they had missed, not to spark a controversy like all the others. The inferences below are based on personal analysis and research and are open for arguments. With that, I hope that you confine your disagreements within this blog community.

This may be a bit lengthy, since it is a full analysis, so do be patient and take your time. So guys, the wait is over. Enjoy and be amazed (and comment on the tagboard!)

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Forbidden Files #02 - Picking the Brain
An exposé by Seraphim

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[1] Over the course of three weeks before the March holidays, the whole of the graduating batch of students from my school went for three day program titled ‘I am GIFTED, so are YOU’ by the Adam Khoo Learning Technologies Group.

[2] A little background info on the program. The whole program is one of the many motivational programs that Adam Khoo and his collegues has created to cater to different needs. Being one of the top five most influential speakers in Asia, he and his team of highly qualified trainers have been changing the lives of many for most parts of their lives. When I say highly qualified, I mean these guys who trained us are damned qualified. One of the trainers, R****h, has won numerous speaking competitions internationally and another trainer, G**y, is a master practitioner of neuro-linguistic programming (whatever that means, it just sounds difficult).
(identity disclosed due to privacy policy)

[3] The aim of the program is to make the attendees better students and ultimately become a success. Realize that these people mean to really CHANGE PEOPLE’S LIVES within 78 hours. Unbelievable? Believe it. That’s where I come in. There is a reason for everything done in the program. Now I’ll be sharing with you what they were and how it affected the attendees.

[4] In a nutshell, they achieved this with the successful integration of psychological techniques with teaching skills. In short, it is like brainwashing. The only difference is that this is willing change of thinking instead of forcibly doing it.

[5] What makes this program more effective than others is that it is delivered to the audience through multiple senses; sight, hearing and touch, along with appeal. This method of delivery was done throughout the entire program, which I will be elaborating in the later part of this exposé.

Day 1

[6] The first day was meant to be a very light one. In whole, the entire day was filled with extremely funny jokes that left everyone in uncontrollable fits of laughter at one point or another. It might seem insensible, but as I’ve said, there is significance.

[7] To make all the attendees motivated to succeed, it was important that everyone believed that all of them can be successful, which was no lie. The method to achieve this however, was full of lies. For half of the first day, attendees were told of stories, some true and some false, of how some initial failures ended up becoming winners at the end of the day. To deepen the effect, they used personal examples to have a personal touch with everyone, which also doubles up as a method to bond with the attendees through the sharing of personal experiences.

[8] By lunchtime, the mindset of attendees would have turned optimistic. With that change in mindset, the trainers then set out to permanently imprint that belief by reinforcing methods of achieving the success. Let’s sidetrack a bit. During my speech at the end of the program, I mentioned that the trainers did not teach us anything new, and that is indeed true. The methods that were ‘taught’ to achieve that success are in fact old methods re-taught to us and enforced by the power of belief.

[9] How many here know about mind maps to help revision and association to improve memory? I bet most of you do, but do any of you really hold on to these ideas to help improve studies? No. These are the two main techniques ‘taught’ during the workshop, and in truth they are very effective methods. To imbue belief into these techniques, they gave us unbelievable but real examples of how these techniques could be put to use. For mind maps, they showed us how a one-page detailed summary of a 30 page chapter could be done and how they could effectively memorize a series of random words in consecutive order. Cool right? And to think that anyone is capable of doing such things.

[10] For the later part of the day, the trainers went into more intense activities. They went into increasing productivity and rate of learning by teaching us how to maximize brain capacity and quickly pick out information. We were told that typical methods of revision only used up small amounts of brainpower, which is not absorbed well by the memory. By teaching us how to maximize brain capacity, more efficient memory is resulted. Also to help quicken word processing, they taught us the wonders of speed reading, that is the quickened ability to absorb information from text.

Day 2

[11] If the first day was about opening our minds, the second day would be to drill things in. This part of the program is the most intense. Read on to find out.

[12] The first day explored the possibility of success actually becoming a reality. The second day started with making that closer to reality. All of us are bound by the limitations of time, thus to achieve everything, we must work our way around it. The trainers introduced to us the ten step study plan, which is a comprehensive yet easy enough to follow guide which formulates our successes. Then they revealed to us the timetable that we’re supposed to follow to keep the lessons taught to us locked up in our heads. Oh yeah, I apologize if the descriptions are a little ambiguous, but I still need to abide the copyright laws of the contents of the AKLTG programs.

[13] The possibility of actually following the study plan is then enforced with the next segment, which was back to increasing productivity. The previous day, the trainers showed us how the techniques could be put to use, this time, they showed us exactly how it was done. They revealed to us the exact methods of how to imprint data and long strings of information onto our memory and how to unlock the full capacity of the brain.

[14] After lunch, the mood began to turn down a bit as the trainer was setting up the mind for the climax of the program. At this point of time, the trainer opened to us the realization that life does not end at secondary school, that once O levels are over, an enormous possibility unfolds. Also, through discreet means, the trainer made us spill out some of our guilty feelings that we had towards things in general.

[15] Now this part is my favourite: the climax. In order for the attendees to change their academic performance, everything has to change, including their environment. This includes changing our perception that we had for our family. Unfortunately, most of us do not value this as much as we are supposed to, making this part a little painful. So they had to make us appreciate our families like we are supposed to, so let me tell you how it was done.

[16] The upbringing of appreciation was done rather forcefully, with regret and sadness being the main tool here. For a human mind to feel extreme sadness, it has to first experience extreme happiness. That was the purpose of the abundance of jokes from the previous day. This part began with a thorough scolding. Don’t get me wrong, this is no lenient scolding. It was done with pure anger, violence and a loose mouth, if you catch my drift. The scolding part was to arouse the sense of initial regret for not taking the program seriously, not appreciating our parents enough, etc. Well, you should know how a real scolding feels like. But that was only the beginning; now let’s get on to the real part.

[17] With the regret part already brought up, now the sadness has to come in. By now, the mind would have been prepared to fall from that feeling of extreme happiness to extreme sadness. Nonetheless, the use of environment for this part further strengthens the arousal of sadness. To create the atmosphere of sadness, the lights were dimmed, the music played changed to a sad one, and the attendees were asked to close and cover their eyes and sit in a crouched position. All of this leads to the preparation of the mind and body to become sad. Then came the trickiest part.

[18] Through the power of words and mental visualization, the trainer made the attendees realize that the most important and closest person to us is none other than ourselves. Then they moved on to facing the vision of our mothers. The trainer articulated the appreciation our mothers have towards us, how proud they were for having us, how they had taken the trouble of bearing and raising us and the things they regretted doing that might have contributed to our current state of development. From here, you can tell that our regret was surfaced by the revealing of our parents’ regrets. From here we moved on to the vision of our fathers. Again, the same thing was done, with the inclusion of how our fathers regretted not being as close as they wanted to and how they could not appear as sensitive due to being the head of the family. By now, the feeling of empathy we have for our parents’ regret would have become our regrets too.

[19] To enforce this, the trainer then shifted the state of mind to shock by realistically articulating the death of our parents. If the previous feeling of regret was from empathy, the sense of regret that developed now would have been purely ours. The impact of this image is so powerful, the mind actually simulates our actual thoughts and feelings of how things would be when our parents would really die. Throughout this part, almost all attendees would have come to tears but this part brought wails of crying. Readers, I cannot emphasize further the power of words here.

[20] Making the attendees cry here is not for sadistic fun, it was to bring about the sense of appreciation that we are supposed to have for our parents. Other than that, crying is one of the body’s natural ways of releasing guilt and regret, something that most people rarely do. Despite the effectiveness of the trainers, I can classify three groups of people who would not have been affected. The first one are the veterans, those who have at one point of time or another felt this sense of sadness before. The second one are the innocents, those who do not have enough guilt or regret to bring about this extreme sadness. But majority of those who did not cry belong to the third one, the brainless. These are the people who were tipped off about the crying part and did all they could to distract themselves to avoid this or just don’t have enough intellect to comprehend sadness.

[21] All in all, that part was a success. We were then sent off for a silent toilet break and came back to write a letter to ourselves and another to our parents telling them of this encounter and new vows.

[22] Before, we have been realized the possibility of options after secondary school life. Now the trainers made us realize that we have a whole lifetime ahead of us, and what happens then depends on what we plan now. With the confidence that we could become successful at the beginning of the day, the trainer then guided us into setting our long term goals for ourselves, including our JC and university life and our careers. The day ended with further perfecting our speed reading skills.

Day 3

[23] For the whole morning until mid-afternoon for the third day, we were perfecting our ability to study smart with all the techniques taught to us. Oh yeah, our speed reading record was 1800++ words/min, that was how much words we could process, in just a minute. By the end of it we were able to create detailed mind maps of our own and were fully prepared for studying effectively.

[24] The time after that was spent fine tuning our time management schedules, from day to day schedules to monthly revision schedule. Then we moved on to fine tuning our long term goals. It was similar to a career/education consultation session as we got to ask questions about the career paths that we were interested in. By the end of it, we knew exactly what we would be doing from now till 20 years down the road, having planned an achievable and ideal goal for ourselves.

[25] Fast forward to the evening, which was the parents session and closing ceremony. The parents were first briefed on what their kids have been doing the past two days and what they have learnt. It also included advice on how to treat their kids better and some of the things they ought not to do.

[26] The most-awaited part of the closing ceremony was the speech part. The attendees were asked to volunteer themselves to go up on stage to make a speech on whatever they wanted. From this session, the personal lives of many of our friends were revealed; their personal problems, family problems, suicide attempts, private emotions, hopes and dreams, among other things. I myself made a speech (of course). It was a very brief yet made an impact and touching enough to bring people to tears, that also included an advertisement for the event management business that I aim for twenty years later. It ended with us giving our parents the letter we wrote the previous day and with a renewed sense of purpose, belonging and motivation in all of us.

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I guess I would just like to stop here for now. Basically, the whole thing has so much to explore that I could barely organize my thoughts to write this recap. This recap of the day to day events itself took five full pages in MS Word! Apparently, there is more to be said of the program, thus I will continue in another entry. For the next one, I plan to do a breakdown of all the techniques used that are yet to be revealed.

I know that the recap above is not complete or might have errors, so do inform me by commenting on the entry.

Until then, be content with this entry, please, if you’re not then I don’t know how long I’m supposed to write to satisfy you…

Seraphim Anthology #04 - Round the Clockwork

2005-03-28T02:39:00.001+08:00

Well, I know many have been waiting for the next exposé. Sorry to disappoint but I'm going to have to halt that. Allow me to compensate for that. I realised that the Forbidden Files is not my only column, so I still have to write about other things. Besides, too many exposés will make it boring. Rest assured that the next one will be of high impact, as all my exposés are aspired to be.

I cannot promise a date for the next one, but I can say that I'm postponing the scandal to put the Adam Khoo analysis first. Hope that's good news. Meanwhile, I'm trying to find inspiration for a good story, so help me out here. I have crafted a small handiwork for your content momentarily, so enjoy!

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Seraphim Anthology #04 - Round the Clockwork
A poem by Seraphim

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[By: Seraphim]
Want freedom from this chroniker cage
To find liberation to become the sage
Tree of life the mortals endure
For the sake of living they cannot cure
Five fingers they slowly count till night
Sick of going through the everlasting fight
Seven days straight they loaded their brain
Ate no rewards drank sorrow and pain
Nine tails of wisdom they try to achieve
Tan have their skins yet more sun to grief

[By: PseudoMan / Tarzan]
Has the sun blinded their eyes?
Or is it the moon that's glazed their sight?
For the escape that they so seek
Lies not at the end of the rhythmic tick
Will they not see the trap they've made?
The orb of twelve that counts their fate
Running away from unseen hands
Will their rush lead to good ends?
The monotony of worldly beat
T'would only be silenced by ended greed

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EDITOR'S NOTE: Thanks to PseudoMan / Tarzan for contributing that last stanza. It seemed to continue mine perfectly, so I hope you don't mind me posting them together. I've credited you up there though.

Stopping for a breather

2005-03-24T22:59:00.000+08:00

Don't worry, this will be a short entry. I realise that throughout the course of my blogging days, I've created and stopped a couple of series, besides the typical blog entries that I occassionally make. So for now, I'll be clarifying what will be in and what will be out.

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Farewell to the past
The following series will hereby be given the axe. I have deem them too troublesome to continue, more like I don't give a damn about them anymore.

The Sims 2 series
That series was created without premeditated thinking, thus it was simultaneous and rash. I actually created it out of sheer excitement of the then new game. And I still think it's a nice game though. Just that I don't think it will make good reading anymore. Besides, there's only one part to the series. Sims, you are the weakest link, goodbye.

The Tale of the Undecided Tales
The tale of this tale is a more amusing tale. From the creator(s) of the fiction came this new type of fiction. When I first started writing fiction for the blog, I thought of creating a series where the readers suggest future outcomes. Turns out the readers weren't too enthusiastic about it and made the fiction end up with very weird continuations, including eternal darkness in a hole because there was no response and the introduction of a magic wok because the readers were giving nonsensical response. Guess we have to say goodbye now.

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Welcome to the future
Well that was the past. Now I will show you the future of this blog. Let me formally introduce to you my blog columns!

The Forbidden Files
By now all of you should know what this is. Being the centre and the most celebrated segment of my blog, this has been causing quite a stir with just the first article. For those who were left out, this series will be a series of exposés revealing secrets, scandals and conspiracies behind things in everyday lives. Think you can stand up to the truth? Think again.

The Wilderness Series
As abstract as the name sounds, abstract is the content itself. For eons humans have tried asking themselves the secrets and meaning of life. I am no different. This is where I attempt to answer some of those questions and regurgitate my words on the abstract topics that will be discussed.

Gilded Grimoire
This isn't a new series, just a new name to give to an old feature. The Gilded Grimoire shall now be the name for the short stories in this blog. Four have already been written from the previous blog and more are on your way. Previously, each short story was based around a certain emotional theme, and hopefully I am able to continue this.

Seraphim Anthology
Despite my knack for the truth, this small segment is my personal favourite. This will be where I write out my poems! Fine, so it doesn't sound that exciting, but it's still my favourite anyway. Guess there's not that much to talk about this thing eh?

I guess those four will be enough to keep me occupied for some time. I may be coming up with new series along the way, but chances are quite slim. These four columns should have quite a lot of potential in them and I don't think I'm coming up with any more until I exhaust the possibilities. With that, goodbye and goodnight!

Defining my parameters

2005-03-21T21:38:00.000+08:00

Greetings again dear readers. For today, I'll just be commenting on the previous entry and clarifying some other things. Some might find it lengthy, but what the heck.

Ok, so let's put first thing's first. I can't ignorantly say that my so called 'exposé' in the previous entry, or future entries for that matter, are not meant to hurt people entirely. I am no stranger to the casualties of truth and honesty. For the casualties of my writing, all I can offer you is my sincere apology. Besides that you have been warned against reading, am I not correct?

I do realise that the type of entries like the previous ones are rather provoking. Well that's the point isn't it? I'm an attention seeking bastard and I'm aspiring to be a damn good writer, so I can't do that by endlessly stammering my sad life to you right? On a more serious note, I would like to let everyone get one thing clear: my writings and opinions are fairly educated ones. They are based to a certain extent on solid facts, that's the whole point of an exposé. This may be wee bit too harsh and shocking to some but I'm here to emphasize the impact of writing on people. What better way to do this than to slam the naked truth in their faces?

True or false, the credibility of my writing is ultimately up to the reader to weigh. I might even sadistically play on that in the future, but I'll try not to abuse your faith in my writing. Despite the negative or probing comments in the tagboard or elsewhere, I deeply, truly appreciate them. No writer would turn away the words of their readers. Besides, there's no greater pleasure than finding the flaws of a perfect masterpiece. (fine, maybe sexual pleasure might equate)

For those that expressed comments privately, I will hold them confidential. Comments like those made by dear old Wraith, I would take pleasure in addressing publically. Oh yeah, Wraith, if you mind me stating the following, just hint me and I'll gladly take it off.

Wraith said "BTW, crime rates for malays are LOWER than the other races... And what has terrorism got to do with malay's downfall? If so, even some Americans are muslims and some were related in terrorist attacks... What one sees and believes in directly affect the type of person they become?". Well that's a summary at least.

Allow me to respond to that. Firstly, I think that what you have said about the malay crime rates meant there are less malay criminals than other races. The actual fact is, and this is for real a fact, the percentage of criminals within the racial group of the Malays is way higher than the percentage of criminals within other racial groups. Sad, but true.

Secondly, terrorism has got quite a lot to do with the downfall. To clarify, the downfall in my exposé is defined by the failure in terms of academics, social, political, etc and the stance of impression that others have. Having said that, terrorism affects the downfall as being related to terrorism obviously will degrade the impression that others have on the Malay community. If it's religion that you say, Singaporean Malays can be safely taken as entirely Muslims and religion plays a large part in defining them. And do you know how Americans muslims are treated? Like vermin, to summarise it. To a certain extent that is similar to Singaporean Muslims too, especially at the time right after the Sept 11 incident.

Thirdly, Wraith mentioned that I'm assuming what one sees they will believe in. You're totally dismissing the other part dear. I said what one sees AND believe in. Those two can't be taken in isolation. Either way, visual input greatly influence one's response and faith, so the point is valid anyway. If you don't believe that what one believes is what one becomes, don't kid me. Have you not heard the power of faith?

Fourthly, I was said to digress a lot. If you read my definition of downfall aboce, I think that clears it up a bit. It's my mistake on my part to not include that in the exposé.

Well, that feels a lot better. I really would like to thank all those people who've read and responded to my exposé. Though it's just my first, the response was encouraging. You guys make me feel like I'm a White House official responding to the president's comment, It's a cool feeling. But that's just me.

Do continue to return here for your cup of linguistic tea and spread the word so that everyone will experience the liberation of walking on Legal Grounds.
(that sounds so much like an ad tagline, cor-nee...)

Forbidden Files #01 - To be swept away

2005-03-15T17:32:00.002+08:00

As promised, I am coming up with an argument on a very politically fragile topic, one that has been close to my heart and dying to write about. What is it? Read on below. I hope that this will be a feature of interest to readers, so please do hint me comments on possible topics that might be of your interest in the tagboard.

For those who is reading this for the first time, please check out the previous entry for an introduction and heed the warning above the Harry Potter advertisement.

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Forbidden Files #01 - To be swept away
An exposé by Seraphim

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The Malays in Singapore make up the second largest proportion of people in the country. Despite once being Malay soil, Singapore has developed into a country dominated by the Chinese and surprisingly the foreigners, a group that makes up Singapore's minority group.

Over the years, the hold that the Malays have on the country as a whole has been slowly slipping away. It all began, of course, with the very founding of Singapore. The moment that the land was handed over from the Malays to the British was the moment that sparked off the Malays' downfall. Of couse, many sees this as a wise choice of the locals to let the higher power mould our beginnings, but what they fail to realise is why this was so.

The real reason the land was lost from the Malays was not because of wisdom, but because of greed. In secrecy, the government has managed to slip this piece of information into all youths without their notice. What I'm talking about here is the fact that lower secondary social studies never fail to emphasize how much MONEY the British paid the Malay Sultan in exchange for control over the land.

Thank God the government has enough mercy to spare the real reason why the Sultan needed the money, for the sake of the Malays. But since this is an exposé article, I'll defy the remaining efforts the Malays have put to save their faces and reveal it anyway. The Sultan needed the money for cock fighting, as in cockerel. Before the days of betting on horse racing, the early locals betted on fighting cockerels. Obviously the Sultan was a big fan of this.

I mean, hey, who in the world with the right mind would hand over an oversized island of a swamp to some guy in tights, weird sideburn and an exaggerated English accent when the land has strategic geographical advantages and an economic potential? If that guy wanted money, he could have just invested in the good old Singapore. Too bad he was desperately in debt.

And that concludes the embarrassing beginning, JUST the beginning.

More than a century has passed since then, yet nothing has been improving. The loss of the land to the British is now emphasized with the loss of control to the Chinese. The crime rate of Malays are way higher than the other races, and that goes for pregnancy, abortion, academics, and all the social problems there is.

To make it worse, the Malays are even associated to terrorism and for a reason that they themselves can’t deny. So far, all the terrorist-related prisoners are all Malays, most of which were in direct relation to J.I. and indirectly, the Al-Qaeda. Heck, Osama bin Laden’s a Muslim, and so are Malays. The relation is undeniable.

We can’t say that the Malays do not realize their mistakes. Some time back, the former prime minister of Malaysia himself made a public announcement about the failure of Malays. If that isn’t publicity of the Malays’ failure, then I don’t know what is. In that announcement, through tears he revealed to the Malaysian Malays their non-productivity despite the special rights that they have been endowed with since their birth and since the beginning of that nation. Even at the cost of the prime minister’s humility the situation is still the same.

Back in Singapore, efforts to publicize all the failures has become an ongoing effort. The latest edition to that effort is the weekly show titled ‘Hanyut’ on Monday nights on Suria. (for those who cared, I assisted in the production of the theme song, the singer is a stupid minah by the way). The name means to be swept away, the inspiration to this article and the focus of this exposé. Every week, the series tells the true life stories of some dysfunctional teenagers, with a different topic each show. The stories could be about anything negative, including gangsters, tattoos, extramarital pregnancies, abortion, smoking, drugs, you get the picture.

Now, to shed light on such negative matters to the community that spawned them could have several effects. The first is the classic ‘learn from your mistakes’. Probably when the producers thought of the show, this was what they had in mind. Though other consequences to producing the show were probably dismissed or probably not even thought of, typically Malay-like.

The second effect is to stereotype everyone’s impression of Malay teens. The irony is that the ‘everyone’ I refer to include Malay parents themselves. How many here can deny that Malay parents, after watching the show, will tell their children to not follow what was shown on TV without realizing that their children were the ones committing those offences themselves. As if failing is not enough, now the Malays just had to ensure that everyone thinks that they are failures.

The third effect is more psychological. Scientific research has proven that what one sees and believes in directly affect the type of person they become. Now let’s theorize what could happen to a Malay teenager who watches the show. I think you can see it already. Heck, just look down at the void deck to get a clearer picture. Now you can see what happened. When we thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, the Malays once again defied that by putting their youths’ future in a vice grip of past failures. They take the saying ‘history repeats itself’ to a whole new level.

What sparked my fury personally was the tone in which the show was delivered. It makes the viewers all seem naïve and innocent, as if the wrong-doers in the series are some bunch of losers from a faraway place. Well that could qualify since their colossal bosoms did originate from their thinking of walking to the bus stop is a marathon (notice that was a metaphor, not a simile).

If they wanted to make a show about how much the Malay community has failed, at least make it like a straight-to-the-head tight slap, like the article I’m writing now. They should produce a show exposing the sick problems that naïve and innocent looking Malays actually face instead of the naked-to-the-eye problems. Retelling the tale of past mistakes is becoming such a cliché. Surfacing newer problems would be such a touché.

Sometimes one would wonder how a disaster at this massive a scale could be kept blissful to the public eye. More importantly one would continue to wonder what could possibly the solution to all this. Day by day, the stakes are getting greater. As the public eye turns towards the direction of the Malays, will we see them scattering about like the filthy rats they are or rise from the ashes to be born anew. Only time can bring the ultimate exposé to that question.

And yes, I am a Malay.