I thank God for the mountains
and I thank God for the valleys
I thank Him for the storms He brought me through

For if I'd never had a problem
I'd wouldn't know that God could solve them
I'd never know what faith in God could do

- Andrae Crouch

even though i can't even begin to explain how disappointed God must be with my life, i feel like at every point when i sense impending doom, failure or just complete disarray, that when i'm locked in the toilet crying, that God puts a hand on my shoulder.. and suddenly it's not that bad, not that bad when i know that if i'm knocking at the door of trial and suffering, soon enough i'll be shutting it behind me. no matter how alone i become God is always holding my hand, even when no one else is. for such consolation i think i'm really blessed.

Ploper Engrish

Was looking up if there were any announcements for my new modules, and came across some announcements leftover from last sem in one of my mods. Most of the announcements were scoldings and criticisms, but quite spot on ones I think. Really specific to Singaporean students: 
"However, some major, very serious, problems remained.

The single largest one is that almost all of you, even the very good students, cannot write English correctly. You make mistakes with prepositions, your subjects and verbs don't agree, you don't know how to use the apostrophe, you confuse your tenses, and so on. From students at supposedly the best university in Singapore, this is, frankly, an embarrassment, and I was sufficiently irritated this time to penalise it in a number of cases.

I noted this issue in my previous comments, and most of you ignored me. So let me now point out that if I were hiring, and I received job applications written as poorly as some of your essays were, I would instantly discard them. So, this is an issue that goes far beyond your grade for your student paper; your poor writing will damage your future professional chances and reputation if you don't make serious efforts to correct it. University is your final opportunity before you are forced to expose your naked prose to a cruel and unforgiving world; if I were you I would be looking to remedy my flaws via the Peers programme in PS and the workshops offered by CELC as well as by my own efforts in purchasing a thesaurus, a grammar book, etc"

This is honestly an amazing feat Singapore has managed to pull off. It's a level 3 module, which means he's criticizing TWENTY-TWO YEAR OLDS. Of not being able to write an essay in correct English. Something that should have been mastered AT LEAST EIGHT YEARS AGO. I don't claim to have an incredible command of English but there are certain things like basic grammar that should be under control by now! And the problem goes far beyond "YOUR" VS "YOU'RE". I know there are lots of Americans and Europeans or whatever who also struggle with correct English but for all the pomp and "quality" our education system boasts, surely the standards have to be higher? Neither do I think we can blame Singlish for this, because tons of people incorporate Singlish into their everyday usage and STILL manage to articulate themselves well and rightly when the time calls. I'm really not sure what to blame, perhaps a wrong approach to learning English in primary schools, or incompetent teachers. But the problem DEFINITELY lies in primary school learning, perhaps a little into secondary school. Also, there is no question about it, but we definitely have to encourage reading more. I can't even begin to explain how much reading helped to improve my English! I know some people grow up in Chinese-speaking families, and there is obviously nothing wrong with that, but where sometimes parents are unable to give proper support to a child's education, surely that is where the school must step in even more. Understandably not every child will be naturally adept at English. And even though bilingualism is all very important nowadays, and Chinese is incrementally becoming more essential, English is still the very core language to speak and understand in the developed world. And he is undeniably telling the truth when he says you would be hard-pressed to find employers who would hire people who don't know where to place their apostrophes. Unless the situation has become so dire that even employers themselves don't know when someone has a good command of English or not. This is really a first world problem (haha) but a problem nonetheless. 

As it goes the nights are all crumpling into one long stream of moonlight. Nothing really stands out anymore as if they have made a choice to become inconspicuous, fade into the stretching of time. I don't exactly recall much of what has happened the past few days. Neither do I feel like it is important to. It is only important to know who I spent it with and was I happy. And I think, I know who I spent it with, and yes, I was probably happy for the most part.

What does stand out, dancing anomalies in Butter Factory, instead of the usual body-waving-hair-tossing-booty-shaking dancing sometimes we would bust out the robot, or the wiper, or anything-but-sexy moves. So much unpretentiousness, no need to seem to be the sexy girl the club harbors. Just fun, just laughing. Do what makes you laugh.

What else? I fear my own flaws will overtake me, which is fine. If you let a piece of paper burn on its own it will simply turn to ashes, and all that other people must do is simply sweep it up. But if you let a piece of paper burn on a pile of papers... everything will still turn to ash, but what a big pile it would be. I sense myself stirring a pot of trouble and its fumes creeping beyond my control. Milk says, once you've spilt me you can't put me back. The lesson is not not to cry about it. The lesson is, don't fucking spill the milk. I think I can only pray that what I have given is enough, and now I must learn to shut my mouth and wait. As long as my anxious heart beats within the cage of my bones, hopefully, somehow, things will be alright.

Le Petit Prince

This passage, right after the author, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, has explained the confusion with which grown-ups treat his drawing. Although it is a picture of an elephant inside a boa constrictor, many adults see that it is a hat. When they find out what it actually is meant to be, they discourage him from drawing:

"So then I chose another profession, and learned to pilot airplanes. I have flown a little over all parts of the world; and it is true that geography has been very useful to me. At a glance I can distinguish China from Arizona. If one gets lost in the night, such knowledge is valuable. 

In the course of this life I have had a great many encounters with a great many people who have been concerned with matters of consequence. I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn't much improved my opinion of them. 

Whenever I met one of them who seemed to me at all clear-sighted, I tried the experiment of showing him my Drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I would try to find out, so, if this was a person of true understanding. But, whoever it was, he, or she, would always say:
"That is a hat." 

Then I would never talk to that person about boa constrictors, or primeval forests, or stars. I would bring myself down to his level. I would talk to him about bridge, and golf, and politics, and neckties. And the grown-up would be greatly pleased to have met such a sensible man."

I love The Little Prince. I remember a drama production put on by Act3 when I was young, and my brother was the Prince! And the one line I remember him saying, "That sheep looks too sickly." He wasn't a very good actor at all now that I think about it, but it was fun watching that. And the book is lovely... when I'm better at French I'll read it in French, the way it was originally written and meant to be read. But this passage really can make me cry. It really shows how wrong the world's got it. He says he would bring himself "down to his level", that all that great knowledge, expansive wisdom about golf and politics and business is beneath knowing about boa constrictors and stars. When he speaks of it from a child's point of view (or rather, ex-child) the essence of it is clear and simple. A child hasn't been tainted by the atrocities of greed, the love of money, the need for power. A child, very simply, follows his heart, and does what makes him happy. And so with such a straightforward, unbiased method of function, a child makes a very good example of how to live, and how to live happily.

4.15am, spent 3 hours talking about nothing in particular. Time flies when you're talking cock, haha.

Debating whether to get a new Macbook. My current Macbook has this bitch ass pixelated column of random colours that change everything I whack the screen, right down the right side of it. Woman at epicentre said it would cost me $900-$1000 to repair the lcd screen. Might as well buy a new one, right? Sigh stupid laptop

Last night Gus managed to lock himself out of his house so he stayed over, but being the extremely well behaved couple that we are, I went to sleep in my sister's room while he slept in mine. Small things like these pay off with gaining my parents' trust, I think. That even though I didn't ask them for permission to let him stay over, we made sure that we weren't in any compromising situations. Of course, if your parents are the kind that are fine with that then lucky for you, but mine aren't. And as long as I'm living under their roof I have to follow their rules, which is fine by me. Still! It reminds me of languorous days in Australia where everyday was just play, and play, and play... sigh I miss it a lot :(

Pictures!

Roy & Shaun's 21st: 

Sean's 21st:

Swee Choon Dim Sum for supper!!! I love that place

If a man can bomb Oslo, dear, dear Oslo, that I once dreamt of visiting because you harbored a friendly people, and a reputation for being untouched by the cruelties of a waging war and its spawn, the spawn that infiltrates not through a steady ascend over treacherous terrain nor through airplanes flying to their deaths, but through the look of one man's eyes, a picture on the Internet, a message ingrained in the pieces falling off the edges of a cube that can scarcely keep itself together, an Arabic tongue and the promise of righteousness, dear Oslo, you and your Nordic neighbours who managed to crouch in a corner and yell your support, who, in the midst of all this terror, managed to retain some semblance of safety and security, I was impressed by the indifference many bombs and guns treated you with, with your minimal action and backseat position, your extremely desirable HDI rankings and social democratic regimes, you were the place to be, to be away without being in the crosshair, dear Oslo, that I once dreamt of visiting, how you managed to keep at bay the result of a farrago of ideologies and opinions trying to assert their superiority, how you managed to fence yourself in and others out, dear Oslo, nestled in a corner of a splotchy mess on a map, did you ever imagine that you would be terrorized by a right-wing extremist and Christian fundamentalist who seemed like an okay guy in the cafés and the bakeries? Did you ever imagine that your peace would last forever? A man who was one of your very own, blonde hair and blue eyes, sans any middle-eastern features or turbans adorning his head, just a man who looked like your neighbor or your colleague one time or another, did you ever imagine that crouching in a corner served you no good when the evil blossomed from within yourself? Dear Oslo, now that your peace has been destroyed, so is mine, my peace of knowing there are places that the world cannot touch, cannot hurt, but, dear Oslo, now you will also go down in the books as a casualty of a burgeoning number of disgruntled minds and unsettled hearts and you have taught me now, that nowhere is safe anymore.

Someone Like You

Watch the first then the second. Quite genius, I think. I like the idea of doppelgangers, the idea of glimpsing yourself outside your own body, of understanding how people look at you from beyond yourself. You'll have to watch it a few times to understand more thoroughly the message of the music video, but it's quite worth it. Also, the song is really beautiful :)

Today I realized for the 3826th time that I don't know what I want to do in the future. So I decided to just think of things that can bring me to tears, stir something up in me, make me feel passionate:

climatic and moving film scores, musicals that have brilliant soundtracks, looking at orchestra pits, pictures of directors and producers in action, quartets, amazing piano skills displayed on YouTube, a British parliament session, documentaries on war, television plugs featuring lots of skinny and dying children to get people to donate, when a mentally handicapped person smiles at me, seeing old people in the hospital, watching LKY on Charlie Rose, memorable passages or phrases in 10/10 books, the Beatles, gigantic crowds singing Hey Jude, reading the newspapers, natural disasters, cello/violin/viola solos, orchestra score sheets, charity organization websites, elections, down to earth politicians, journalists who cover small but touching stories, being able to draw out the world map fairly accurately, trafalgar square, la seine, st peter's basilica, tokyo and burma

So my interests lie here: music, politics, social work and travel. In my opinion I think politics, social work and travel can tie in quite nicely, if I go off to work for an NGO or something along those lines. I've often considered that an extremely viable option.

Music, on the other hand, I would love, love, love to do, but I have not the capabilities, the qualifications nor the excess of time to try to acquire them. But if I could do anything in the world, I think, probably, I would want to play in an orchestra, make beautiful music, maybe compose something. At my age, that dream is almost impossible, I think. Ironic, since I really am only 20 years old. But musicians start from 5, and anyone who begins beyond 10 perhaps has not a hope in the world left. I think it will remain one of my greatest regrets, not becoming a musician in some way, not going to some outstanding music school, giving up on piano because I was scared of a test. Feel like slapping my 11 year old self, what a stupid fool.

a poem for swingers, a poem for the playgirls of the universe:

I like women who haven’t lived with too many men.
I don’t expect virginity but I simply prefer women
who haven’t been rubbed raw by experience.

there is a quality about women who choose
men sparingly;
it appears in their walk
in their eyes
in their laughter and in their
gentle hearts.

women who have had too many men
seem to choose the next one
out of revenge rather than with
feeling.

when you play the field selfishly everything
works against you:
one can’t insist on love or
demand affection.
you’re finally left with whatever
you have been willing to give
which often is:
nothing.

some women are delicate things
some women are delicious and
wondrous.

if you want to piss on the sun
go ahead
but please leave them
alone.

- charles bukowski 

--

Not entirely sure why the manuscript reads "some human beings" and the versions I find online read "some women" but both ways are beautiful. Even if Bukowski wrote this as a lie and as a way to get laid, he's done it so perfectly I'm sure he did get laid a million times. But if he really did, then that would also be really ironic. I think I'll choose to believe that he isn't lying, though, and he understands the value of being selective and discerning, especially in the person you might eventually come to love. I love this poem, so much. 

Some poems

"The City"
Constantine P. Cavafy

You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried like something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally.”

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You’ll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there’s no ship for you, there’s no road.
Now that you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world.


--


"Regardless"
Charles Bukowski

the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are pointed
at you,
when all the voices
hurl their insults
while the dream is being
strangled.

the nights you fight best
are
when reason gets
kicked in the
gut,
when the chariots of
gloom
encircle
you.

the nights you fight best
are
when the laughter of fools
fills the
air,
when the kiss of death is
mistaken for
love.

the nights you fight best
are
when the game is
fixed,
when the crowd screams
for your
blood.

the nights you fight best
are
on a night like
this
as you chase a thousand
dark rats from
your brain,
as you rise up against the
impossible,
as you become a brother
to the tender sister
of joy and

move on

regardless.


--


Funny, I love both poems but they have such different opinions. Some days I feel like the first and other days I feel like the second. But recently, the second has not been happening much. Bukowski has a way with words that makes me feel like decent people still exist, he spills his honesty and candidness with such an earnest disposition I cannot help but believe what he says. It is like he manages the find the good in people, in situations, even if it is a little delusional sometimes, I think he makes it sound so real. It reminds me, "Hope is the thing with feathers." But the first poem is much more reflective of life nowadays, of the constant disappointments, the reality of growing up and leaving that cocoon your parents have woven around you. It addresses that desire to escape, to leave everything horrid behind you, find a new place, start over. A significant departure from Bukowski's optimism, the first poem is everything I dread. The inability to sever everything you don't want from your entity, the haunting of your inadequacies and incapable flaws like a half starred horror movie. "Don't hope for things elsewhere", the poem says. In moments of overwhelming helplessness, I automatically agree. 

I think the truth hurts but I would rather be told than be led on like a fool, happy in my oblivion but a sucker in everyone else's eyes. Perhaps some would prefer to revel in blissful ignorance but would it be prudent to enjoy the company of someone who is not who you think? I think there is clearly no future there - someone must keep denying and someone else must keep lying. The problem is that somewhere along the way, the one who is lying will realize how tired he is of it, and he will stop. And that bubble will burst and the worst feeling in the world, is discovering that you have invested and trusted so much in someone only to have him take your trust, and treat it like shit.

That's the fucking problem with society. Trust, on one hand, will always be essential to having stable relationships around you. It is needed not to be wracked with paranoia and insecurity, not to be a manic, psycho person everyone prays they will not become. On the other hand, everything about lying, concealing, hiding is prevalent and tempting. In movies, everyone's always cheating. In reality, adultery happens all the time. Divorce rates are through the roof. Articles tell you it is prudent to separate your savings from your spouse. Famous bloggers tell you being paranoid is correct. 


How annoying is it that the moral fabric of society trickles down to affect the people who try not to contribute to its degradation? How bad things always happen to good people, men who chase younger women who flirt with the attention, leaving devastated wives who work hard to care for their families. Loving parents who are abandoned by children seeking more power, more success, more money. I think you can never trust society not to trifle with the people you love, not to trifle with you.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing is all the indignant anger that can build up simply from thinking about this, people dismiss with the seemingly conclusive phrase, "well, life's not fair." And all that's left is a sense of helplessness, and insignificance. It is never overwhelming, but it is persistent and clingy. Sometimes I understand why people choose to die, choose to disconnect from this world. I can see how the other side is better. I want to go to that place where life is fair, where everybody gets what they deserve, where the moral fabric of society is irrelevant. Heaven, where our human flaws will diminish into nothingness. But in the meantime we must wait, and we must endure this imperfect world.

I forgot to mention that Gus and I are two years old

All I know is, I can't imagine being without you because you are so precious to me. After two years together it seems insignificant considering how long some couples have been together, but through the ups and downs somehow we've landed here. Happy and content. And that's how you make me feel. Like the gaps and the holes have disappeared, been stitched up and cast aside. It would be a stretch to say "you make me feel whole" because you don't. There are times when I feel very empty, and nothing you say or do can fix that yawning gape but I think, maybe, the more appropriate phrase might be "you try to fix me" and that's a lot more than I can ask for. I love the way you say certain words and your leftover American accent, the way you tell me to shut up when I ask who's the reacher and who's the settler, the way you get defensive when you suspect someone has hurt me, the way you joke with your family about how I eat too much, the witty things you say and all your funny jokes I try my best not to laugh at. I love the way you still love me after two years of bullshit I've put you through, the way you're straight and honest with me, the way you always try to do the right thing, even when I'm pressuring you to do the wrong. I love the way you treat my family, my sister, my dog, the way you make me feel special and the way you make me laugh.

But mostly, I love you because you're you and you don't try to be anybody else. 

Happy two years to us! And to many more years to come :) 

I am a walking contradiction

perhaps,
an euphemism for
a walking
hypocrite

I think that we must love everyone
but I cannot say how much
I am "inclined towards dislike" regarding people
who don't use "an" appropriately,
or mistake the usage of the contractions "'d" and "'ll"

I think that we must not judge
but I'd be lying if
I did not think that most girls
who are "hot" are probably sluts

I think that we must learn to have faith
in humanity, because God created
this community
to cohabit and prosper, together
but humanity and myself have convinced me
that to have faith in it
is naive, and for
fools

But does that really make me a hypocrite,
because if I did not say this out
you would not have known, would
not have been hurt or gutted
would not have been shocked or appalled at my two-faced reality

and so
appearances can be deceiving
but that is not always a bad thing, is it?
for if I were to not have this alternative side,
I think,
I would not be human, and why we will never achieve
a state of perfect oneness is because

then we have nothing left to aspire to be

Australia

Fond memories :) 

Brisbane, Stradbroke, Gold Coast, Sydney - 20th June - 6th July 

Fuck this picture cracks me up so bad

Smashed up a rental car (Y)

Right after this everybody realized the amount of kangaroo shit on the ground

Harry Potter

Just finished watching live coverage of the Harry Potter premiere in Trafalgar Square, feeling depressed. On Thursday everything will be over :( I don't think I've ever read more intriguing books, more engaging or captivating books. I remember sitting in a hotel room reading the Chamber of Secrets, curling up because I was scared of the basilisk guarding the chamber.

The child-like part of me still marvels at the wonder of this other-world. It still wishes that the books were real, that I was a witch, that Hogwarts was a real place and magic was within our reach. But more than that, as I've grown up, what Harry Potter holds for me has gone beyond the amazement. It has reached a stage of admiration, at the genius of the story, the slick and smooth development, the fine attention to detail. The brilliance of Jo Rowling's storytelling and imagination is really one to be envied. As a book, a series, Harry Potter is truly a classic work. Clever, creative, perfect mix of all the ingredients a great story should have. (Which is a big reason why Harry Potter is a lot better than Twilight. For one, Stephanie Meyer is not that good a writer. The Twilight story falls quite flat -- it lacks depth and detail.)

I also admire the transition from book to film. I've never really been sure if people have supported the movies simply because there was a deep yearning to see the books materialize in some way, or if the movies were really good. But regardless, I think the films have done exactly what the fans wanted -- to see Hogwarts, to experience moving pictures, see grindylows. Truly have that all round experience the story tries to give. (Another way in which Twilight sucks -- the films have been so focused on getting a handsome cast, creating extremely hollow scenes, lacking emotion, etc) I'll admit sometimes the films have fallen a bit short, but films will never be as great as books are, and I think the HP films do give it their best shot to stay true to the books and explore their boundaries cinematically, and it's definitely enough.

So, in 7 days many people will have to say goodbye to the series for good. But, as clichéd as it is, the story will live on as long as people remember how it has affected them.

Back in Brisbane. Road trip was super fun but super intense. Way too much driving, navigating fcking dark roads and abandoned petrol stations. Getting freaked out by constant exclamations of "Eh this seriously looks like the one from House of Wax/Texas Chainsaw Massacre leh!!!" Peeing in dodgy toilets and concentrating super hard on the road with no streetlights, constant sprays of mist from oncoming 18 wheelers just one lane beside you. Those were the bad parts of it. It was definitely an experience but honestly I'm not keen to repeat it! The days are so short -- the sun sets around 530pm. There were countless times where I imagined that I was going to die from murder or a car accident. But thank God that He kept us safe the whole way and we made it back here in one piece! 

The good parts: sitting roller coasters at Dreamworld until I almost hurled, snorting so much water up our noses at White Water World all our faces were red, attempting to surf at Stradbroke Island in almost freezing water, eating homemade gelato, watching whales and dolphins frolick in the ocean, walking a beautiful trail overlooking massive rock crevices and huge rivers, watching horror shows at night, sleeping for 3 hours in the car by the roadside in Sydney, eating a delightful seafood breakfast ($9 for 25 slices of sashimi, alaskan crab legs, gigantic lobsters), checking into three awesome, awesome hotels, floating too long in heated pools, eating lots of Japanese food, singing songs in the car really loud. 

One constant the entire trip has been this, though: the casino. Omg. You never think you would be lured by the idea of fast money, that it's for those who cannot control themselves, etc. But the moment you win your very first hand at Blackjack... it's over. Don't worry, I'm not addicted, but it is really, really, really fun. Although you have to be prepared to lose money! And you have to knwo when to walk away. But I'm in love with playing Blackjack. It's not even just about the money, it's also about the thrill, the anticipation. Gus & I have controlled ourselves though, gambling a prudent amount each time and giving up for good when the going just isn't great. But even then, I quite enjoy the glitz and glamour of a casino, of the clean and shiny tables, the caribbean stud wheel, the high ceilings, the poker room, the dealers in uniforms (I LOVE FRIENDLY DEALERS), the slightly drunk gamblers who try to give you advice. If you've ever watched any show featuring Vegas you'll understand that it's really quite enticing! Thankfully I think overall we've had a net gain. It's really important to exercise self control! 

Interesting parts: dealing with the police and security at Treasury Casino, busting up the left headlights of a rental car against the back of a Nissan monster, dropping an expensive watch into the depths of some unknown but pretty lake. AND THEN, the boys stripping and tip-toeing into the freezing water to try and retrieve it. 

My favourite part: falling asleep with Gus by my side, waking up to his hugs and kisses. Being here with him, basically. Even if he sometimes spends too much time playing FIFA and NBA on the PS3... things he does at home. Seriously 

Can't say how much I miss Meelo :( Haha. Oh well. Am leaving in a few days, heading back to sunny Singapore. Reading twitter it looks like everybody is dying from the heat, so I envision just soaking in the pool everyday to acclimate back to the weather!