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
**********************************************************************
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!!!
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Seraphim Anthology #05 - Earth Day
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...
**********************************************************************
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.
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)
**********************************************************************
Seraphim Anthology #05 - Earth Day
A poem by Seraphim
**********************************************************************
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...
**********************************************************************
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
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...
*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...
Monday, May 16, 2005
Gilded Grimoire #04 – Two Face Too Many – Façade
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
**********************************************************************
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?
**********************************************************************
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.
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.
**********************************************************************
Gilded Grimoire #04 – Two Face Too Many – Façade
A fiction by Seraphim
**********************************************************************
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?
**********************************************************************
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.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Me, Professional Hypocrite
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.
**********************************************************************
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.
**********************************************************************
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.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
The Wilderness Series #01 - Of Glitter and Silk
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.
**********************************************************************
The Wilderness Series #01 - Of Glitter and Silk
A tribute to the student councillors
An article by Seraphim
**********************************************************************
[ 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.
**********************************************************************
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.
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.
**********************************************************************
The Wilderness Series #01 - Of Glitter and Silk
A tribute to the student councillors
An article by Seraphim
**********************************************************************
[ 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.
**********************************************************************
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.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Forbidden Files #02 - Picking the Brain
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!)
**********************************************************************
Forbidden Files #02 - Picking the Brain
An exposé by Seraphim
**********************************************************************
[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.
**********************************************************************
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…
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.
**********************************************************************
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…
Monday, March 28, 2005
Seraphim Anthology #04 - Round the Clockwork
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
**********************************************************************
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.
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!
**********************************************************************
Seraphim Anthology #04 - Round the Clockwork
A poem by Seraphim
**********************************************************************
[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
**********************************************************************
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.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Stopping for a breather
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.
**********************************************************************
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.
**********************************************************************
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!
**********************************************************************
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.
**********************************************************************
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!
Monday, March 21, 2005
Defining my parameters
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...)
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...)
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