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Singapore girl wins Commonwealth essay prize!

You will be amazed at the maturity of this 15-year old girl. It's worthwhile
taking 5 mins to read this essay.

A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean, competing against 16- 18-year-olds, has won
the top prize in a writing contest that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries...

In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of
Raffles Girls' School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category
and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.

Her short story, titled "What The Modern Woman Wants" focused on the conflict
in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.

'Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-vs-West struggles and
generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,'
said Amanda, who likes drama, history and literature and wants to become a
lawyer and a politician.

Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a 'powerfully moving and ironical
critique of modern restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences'. The
writing is fluent and assured, with excellent use of dialogue.

Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in
2000, said Britain's Royal Commonwealth Society, which has been
organising the competition since 1883. Singaporeans also came in
second in the 14 to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the under-12s.
Other winners included students from Australia , Canada and South Africa.

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

What the Modern Woman Wants...
By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down
the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be
kidnapped by the wind.

She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seat belt
tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused
fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very
clearly on white, Ma.'

Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile
phone using big words the old woman could barely understand.
'Finance', 'Liquidation', 'Assets', 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and
important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it.

Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was
speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in
disapproval......

'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed
agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured
fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.

'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and
hurled it angrily toward the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the
forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and
handed it to her daughter.

'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin.
'I have a big client in America . There have been a lot of problems.'

The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was
thinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic
look.

The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which
broke the awkward silence.

'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.'
Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her
daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking',
Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to
the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.'

Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her
daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.

'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'

The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in
defence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost
garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof.

The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main
hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and
reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.

'Ma, I'll wait outside.. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not
bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down
solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.

'Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years.
Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in
this world could possibly want.

'She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too
clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich
and handsome angmoh man.

'Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she
says... She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except
happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots
while reaping the harvest of success.

'What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room
in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I
affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old
mother. It is my fault.'

The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her
head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of
smoldering ashes.

She bowed once more. The old woman had been praying for her daughter for
thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the
temple and prayed that it was a son.

Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and
adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband
had ticked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or
carry the family name.

Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her
waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything
she ever wanted.

Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to
depend on a man. She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman,
the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become.

A woman with 'neng kan'; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman
who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak,
precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.

She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up
and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood.

She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl to one who openly defied
her, calling her laotu, old fashioned.... She wanted her mother to be 'modern',
a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.

Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had
prayed like that. The Gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the
wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and
now she stood faceless with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by
only a string of origami banknotes.

Her daughter had forgotten her mother's value. Her wants were so ephemeral, that
of a modern woman. Power, wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques and yet
her daughter had not found true happiness. The old woman knew that you could
find happiness with much less.

When her daughter left the earth, everything she had would count for nothing.
People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman but she would
be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper
convertibles and mansions.

The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers
for her daughter now that she had looked out of the temple gates. She saw her
daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at
the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there –
down.

The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of
beehoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshiping
porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of
ceramic to fly to her aid?

But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that
she enslaved to and worshiped every day of her life.

Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshiped counted for
nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life
out of her and leave her, an empty souless shell at the altar.

The old woman watched the joss stick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey
stem that was on the danger of collapsing.

Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the
east bone a final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much
that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.

Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter
outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her
daughter's face.

An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants
looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness.

They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the
highway, this time not too fast as she had done before.

‘Ma,’ Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been
talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market
is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay us seven million for
it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a
perfect one in Orchard Road.

Once we move into our apartment, we plan to get rid of the maid,
so we can have more space to ourselves...'

The old woman nodded knowingly. Bee Choo swallowed hard.

'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out – but once
the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully
lonely at home and, besides that the apartment is rather small. There won't be
space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the best thing for
you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang – it's a Christian home
and a very nice one.'

The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.

'I"ve been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with
gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! Hardly have time for you,
you'd be happier there. You'd be happier there, really.'
Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.

This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offering to cling tightly
to, she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from
a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat,
letting her shoulders sag and her fingers trace the white seat.

'Ma,' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is
everything okay?'

What had to be done, had to be done.

'Yes' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you happy,'
she added more quietly.

‘It's for you, Ma! You will be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I
already got the maid to pack your things.'

Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.

'I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated.
Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier...

She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of
happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted;
money, status, career, love, power and now freedom without her mother and her
old-fashioned ways to weigh her down...

Yes she was free. Her phone butted urgently, she picked it up and read the
message, still beaming from ear to ear.

'Stock 10% increase.'

Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her and while searching for
the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in
the backseat became invisible and she did not see her in tears.

As shared by Sarah Cheong
===================================

This is worthy of the top prize
I'm quite sure I could relate to the dialogue and whatever the young
girl is trying to put through to the audience

The point that I'm sharing this story because
I actually came back home
And read it again
And found out some points which raised some question marks for me

Good points on this story
- I love the parts on how Amanda used the dialogue
- On how Bee Choo is being portrayed as this 女强人
- How everything was very realistic
i) the convertible
ii) the poor old mom
iii) prayers at the temple
iv) married to the angmoh
v) poor old mom being sent to old folks home
vi) girl without Caucasian name got one herself

Bad points on this story

Hmmm
I was thinking about it
Then I came to realise the fact that this young writer
Comes from Raffles Girls School
Which in turn, is akin to her being automatically labelled as an "Elitist"

And nowadays "Elitist" are being labelled by netizens as
"people who surround themselves with other like-minded people and
just paying themselves handsome outrageous salaries while profiteering
at an insane plain view of everyone, and thus mistakenly take for granted
that everything is going well at ground level"

Well thats the view of netizens I guess?

Netizens also push out this point that like-minded in this sense
means that these people think that coming from prestigious background
is a god-given right for them to surround themselves with other similar people
And mistake any other who is not the same mold as lesser beings

Hmmm
Tough call

To me
I think the negative side to this whole thing would be
If you put this same essay through submission
And then put as some "ABC Neighbourhood Secondary"
Remember
Identical essay but different school
Would it have scored the same result?

And would the person from a neighbourhood school be
writing this kind of essay in the first place?
The girl from the neighbourhood school would probably
be thinking of how to make ends meet rather than
driving convertible and talking trashy American accent I guess?

I think its the exposure to the society
If Amanda is constantly being showed this side of society
She would have gotten this feeling easily
While the neighbourhood school girl wouldnt be in this situation

They say same birds of the same feather flock together
If you're playing iPad and I'm playing digimon
Can my Digivice ''fight'' your iPad?
Can my Digivice play iTunes songs out?
Oh bloody hell can my Digivice be touch-screen enabled?
I think its really the exposure ba
If you are exposed to this lifestyle at a young age
Constantly and repeatedly
You will be forgiven for forming this impression
But ditto for "ABC Neighbourhood Secondary" girl

Coming from a secondary school
Which is "autonomous" and chasing whatever achievement
during the finals years of my studies
And finally seeing the full effect of KPI being placed on teachers
I can tell I have fellow peers who are achievements
I know of ppl getting DSTA, A*Star, Oxford, Cambridge
or Hogwarts scholarships during this short 22 years of my life
I think they will be these 女强人 or somehow similar
in the short years to come

But
Just a small but
I think
Not everyone of them would follow the footsteps of this Bee Choo
This so called "摩登" aka Chinese word for modern as translated
form of young Singaporean woman
I'm quite sure majority of the girls my age
Most of whom are graduating in this 1 year or so
They would be slightly delaying their marriage years
Delay their child-bearing age
Form financial stability and stuff
But not throwing their parents in old folks home and whatnot
Because throwing your folks into the home
Is akin to committing the crime that will allow lightning to strike
you in your shiny convertible
Seriously

And I'm quite sure the ladies of my batch
They are well-educated, well-travelled ladies
Who are not SP-bitches or whatnot
But they do know their lines of limit
And yes, things wont turn out as written in this story

Everybody wants to blame somebody for something
And for such a situation as depicted in this shown story
As brilliantly as written by this young girl
I think you can put the blame on the pressure cooker system
Which we have engulfed ourselves in
Where everybody is chasing something
And its the academic stuff that is of utmost importance

Yes I admit I am in the rat-race too
But certainly
I felt I have lead a good and comfortable life
Seen stuff and did stuff which I will not regret
Travelled some parts of the globe which I could afford
Spend money which I felt were wisely spent (so far)
Take courses and learn skills which I willingly pay for
And yes
I do feel that I'm not affected by these so-called "Elitist"
Or not that I care that much perhaps?

And yes
Financially aside
I'm slightly blessed
But I think
At the end of the day

I have gotten the happiness which Bee Choo have not found
And like what those TV dramas and Bee Choo's Ma mentioned
"Happiness is a simple thing"

We have forgotten everything in this rat-race
How to relax yourself
How to just go have a coffee at the coffee shop
How to go to your best friend place's void deck and talk till the wee hours
How to lay down on the grass
How to sit on the sand
All without a care in the world
How to run free
How to jump high
How to see the world pass by

And not just chasing academic achievements
And getting into rushed relationships
Only to commit so much
And lose out on all your fellow friends who care about you
To try to reconnect when you break-up
To not be anti-social
To not be talking through your mouth without thinking

We need to be impulse at times
And do different things
Different but simple things
Which you cannot imagine
And getting out of the comfort zone
Seems like a good way to start
Very refreshing

If not
Its a vicious cycle which will come back to hunt you
When you start working so hard
And your kids start getting neglected
And they dont do well in studies
And you enroll them in tuition
And never bring them over to see their grandparents
Yup, this is......happening!
Hahahahaha!

How many of these high-flyers which I know
Have parents who studied till university or something?
If their parents are graduates, how many of them actually are high-flyers?
End of the day
Most of our parents are just normal people
Who start selling bread at Primary 5/6
Drop out of school
And still ~~fucking~~ managed to put you through university
And to think we will ALL get suck into the vicious cycle
Screw everyone of us
2012 may lava pour out from Bukit Timah Hill
LOL!
;)

Shit
I still need to work tml
So I can afford to buy my $880k HDB flat next time
I are seeing stars now
Bag Engrish
But for my HDB
For my Singaporean status
I will still go to work tml
Holy shit it's close to 1am now!

Last thing for the ladies before I hit the pillows

I think 50kg
You have the height the curves the figure
I dont mind ferrying you
50kg and you stand at 1.65m
You look like Blake Lively
Or Megan Fox
Or Felicia Chin
Just don look like a bag of bones can already
Come on people
50kg is ok what?
Not meh?

I think I should leave a note on his bike and ask him
Should I?
Put a picture of Tracy Lee
And say I weight 50kg
:)

LYJ21

Monday, August 22, 2011

Always Sick

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I have moved

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Whatup!

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Lady Luck

Saturday, June 25, 2011

For you, my friend

30 lives

Thursday, June 23, 2011

LINKS***

DEVIANT ART FRIENDS***