Saturday, March 31, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Doggone it
You know you've reached new heights of missing your dogs when the sound of barking makes you tear.
Miss squeezing him.
Miss hugging him.
Miss nuzzling him.
The closest I got to a dog in aaaaages.
Sigh.
Miss squeezing him.
Miss hugging him.
Miss nuzzling him.
The closest I got to a dog in aaaaages.
Sigh.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Oh, the pain
Ok, so what does a girl do when she's having an essay crisis at 4.48am for an essay that's not really due till monday but that she wants done TODAY so she can go out tonight?
Click on the flashing banner on her hotmail page advertising a blogging festival on youth.sg.
I'm apalled. Honestly. I'm not going to link blogs here, because it isn't really the blogs that apall me. But let's just take a look at the descriptions of the entries BY the dear people at youth.sg, shall we?
*This entry is fantastic! What more can we say? There’s a very nifty self-produced video on ............. and there’s also a very nicely done graphic artwork on Singapore. I know we shouldn’t be biased, but this is probably the best entry we have received so far. Do vote for her if you agree with us too. (Val: You shouldn't be biased? You don't say.)
*blog is kawaii ne! There are cutesy hamster photos, lots of anime reviews and a pink blogskin. The only thing that doesn’t match is the Manchester United logowhich seems a tad too manly for a kawaii blog. Nevertheless, do vote for ...... if you share her interests.
*......... definition of being a youth in Singapore revolves around three items: food, self-image and air-con. His top motto in life, other than "Don't Worry, Be Happy", is "Live to Eat, not Eat to Live". He is also not afraid of posting photos of his belly on his blog - do check his belly out.
I didn't expect much, really. But I didn't expect that, either. Is this truly the reflection of Singaporean youth? No. Therefore, should I be at all bothered by it? Probably not. But. Argh. ARGH. My sister's a 17 year old, I've been in groups with kids ranging from 13 to 20, I taught 16 and 17 year olds for 9 months. And particularly with the last group, I ask myself, why do they write like that? Not just in style and spelling, but in general content. And herrre we have it. Shallowness glorified.
It's hard to claim I'm not making a value judgement on the kids writing these blogs. I'm not, really. What's really rubbing me the wrong way is how they're touted as...'kawaii ne!' etc. Cute is good. Patriotism is good. Food is good. And, uh, belly is good. But, as contestants for a blogging competition? Is there no one else?
There probably isn't, in all fairness. A festival like that probably has a target audience which would appreciate their selection of blogs. It's slightly worrying what a large audience that seems to be though.
I am now going to put my peeves about the state of blogging aside. What really REALLY gets to me, is how, for some reason, we as a country deride any semblance of intelligent thought.
Hear me out here.
Other than the teachers who pull out hairs reading and marking essays, think of FIVE people you are directly connected to (parents, friends, relatives) who actively encourage you to THINK. Is it not easier to think of an instance when someone said, 'eh, why so cheem', indicating a desired change of conversational topic? (I apologise for the pretentious language. I'm trying to write an essay and can't seem to break out of essaywritingmode.)
The refusal of 'science' students (yes, I'm generalising.) to have anything to do with 'arts' subjects and vice versa (until forced, like they are now currently. I'm sure some enjoy it. I'm also sure most are delighted with another reason to whine.)
A widespread aversion to reading. Why don't we read more? We're highly literate, in various languages. Why, why, why do we not READ?
I admit, I'm probably so annoyed because it is now 5.10am and I am less than a third through my essay. I also concede that there ARE people who have always been encouraged to think, love learning be it science OR arts and are avid readers. Quite a lot of people, probably.
Whyyyyy then, do representations of our youth almost always say otherwise?
Okay Val. Drink your coffee and stop bitching.
Sigh.
Click on the flashing banner on her hotmail page advertising a blogging festival on youth.sg.
I'm apalled. Honestly. I'm not going to link blogs here, because it isn't really the blogs that apall me. But let's just take a look at the descriptions of the entries BY the dear people at youth.sg, shall we?
*This entry is fantastic! What more can we say? There’s a very nifty self-produced video on ............. and there’s also a very nicely done graphic artwork on Singapore. I know we shouldn’t be biased, but this is probably the best entry we have received so far. Do vote for her if you agree with us too. (Val: You shouldn't be biased? You don't say.)
*blog is kawaii ne! There are cutesy hamster photos, lots of anime reviews and a pink blogskin. The only thing that doesn’t match is the Manchester United logowhich seems a tad too manly for a kawaii blog. Nevertheless, do vote for ...... if you share her interests.
*......... definition of being a youth in Singapore revolves around three items: food, self-image and air-con. His top motto in life, other than "Don't Worry, Be Happy", is "Live to Eat, not Eat to Live". He is also not afraid of posting photos of his belly on his blog - do check his belly out.
I didn't expect much, really. But I didn't expect that, either. Is this truly the reflection of Singaporean youth? No. Therefore, should I be at all bothered by it? Probably not. But. Argh. ARGH. My sister's a 17 year old, I've been in groups with kids ranging from 13 to 20, I taught 16 and 17 year olds for 9 months. And particularly with the last group, I ask myself, why do they write like that? Not just in style and spelling, but in general content. And herrre we have it. Shallowness glorified.
It's hard to claim I'm not making a value judgement on the kids writing these blogs. I'm not, really. What's really rubbing me the wrong way is how they're touted as...'kawaii ne!' etc. Cute is good. Patriotism is good. Food is good. And, uh, belly is good. But, as contestants for a blogging competition? Is there no one else?
There probably isn't, in all fairness. A festival like that probably has a target audience which would appreciate their selection of blogs. It's slightly worrying what a large audience that seems to be though.
I am now going to put my peeves about the state of blogging aside. What really REALLY gets to me, is how, for some reason, we as a country deride any semblance of intelligent thought.
Hear me out here.
Other than the teachers who pull out hairs reading and marking essays, think of FIVE people you are directly connected to (parents, friends, relatives) who actively encourage you to THINK. Is it not easier to think of an instance when someone said, 'eh, why so cheem', indicating a desired change of conversational topic? (I apologise for the pretentious language. I'm trying to write an essay and can't seem to break out of essaywritingmode.)
The refusal of 'science' students (yes, I'm generalising.) to have anything to do with 'arts' subjects and vice versa (until forced, like they are now currently. I'm sure some enjoy it. I'm also sure most are delighted with another reason to whine.)
A widespread aversion to reading. Why don't we read more? We're highly literate, in various languages. Why, why, why do we not READ?
I admit, I'm probably so annoyed because it is now 5.10am and I am less than a third through my essay. I also concede that there ARE people who have always been encouraged to think, love learning be it science OR arts and are avid readers. Quite a lot of people, probably.
Whyyyyy then, do representations of our youth almost always say otherwise?
Okay Val. Drink your coffee and stop bitching.
Sigh.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The end-result (as in, the last line of a conclusion) of a coke(yes, the drink)-induced all-nighter, for an essay on Shakespeare and justice:
'and so while one sympathises with Johnson’s ‘indignation’ which he projects to every reader of Measure for Measure, for example , it is with both resignation to the harshness of reality and admiration of Shakespeare’s dogged pursuit of the portrayal of it that one must politely inform Johnson that he has no choice but to deal with it. '
I rock.
'and so while one sympathises with Johnson’s ‘indignation’ which he projects to every reader of Measure for Measure, for example , it is with both resignation to the harshness of reality and admiration of Shakespeare’s dogged pursuit of the portrayal of it that one must politely inform Johnson that he has no choice but to deal with it. '
I rock.
And for the upcoming season...
Is this a Fast, to keep
The Larder lean?
And clan
From fat of Veals and Sheep?
Is it to quit the dist
Of Flesh, yet still
To fill
The platter high with Fish?
Is it to fast an hour
Or rag'd to go,
Or show
A downcast look, and sour?
No; 'tis a Fast, to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat
And meat
Unto the hungry soul.
It is to fast from strife,
From old debate
And hate;
To circumcise thy life.
To show a heart grief-rent;
To starve thy sin,
Not bin;
And that's to keep thy Lent.
(Robert Herrick, 1591 - 1674)
Not a gem of a poem, but timely.
The Larder lean?
And clan
From fat of Veals and Sheep?
Is it to quit the dist
Of Flesh, yet still
To fill
The platter high with Fish?
Is it to fast an hour
Or rag'd to go,
Or show
A downcast look, and sour?
No; 'tis a Fast, to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat
And meat
Unto the hungry soul.
It is to fast from strife,
From old debate
And hate;
To circumcise thy life.
To show a heart grief-rent;
To starve thy sin,
Not bin;
And that's to keep thy Lent.
(Robert Herrick, 1591 - 1674)
Not a gem of a poem, but timely.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Perspectives
So I'm surfing facebook, clicking on random links. And come across this page: www.truthforyouth.com in an anti-Christian union facebook group. The group members range from being outraged at the way non-christians are portrayed to superior about their enlightenment, as proven by the contents of the website.
And I can't say I blame them. Why do so many christian 'outreach' programmes and websites insist on portraying non-christians as stupid or just plain bad? As well-intentioned as it may be (how that's well-intentioned I leave up to your conjecture), that's just not true. Bad things don't only happen to bad people. More fundamentally, who are we to judge who are bad people? Christians aren't the only ones who know better than to do drugs/binge-drink (not that all of them don't) - non-Christians, religious or not, are perfectly capable of having strong beliefs and personal morals. And none have a monopoly on reason, logic or intelligence.
It's surprisingly hard to be Christian here. Not because people make it difficult, just because it's so much easier to not be. And when I say 'be' I mean, act like, profess, actually believe. When in a situation does walking away constitute testifying...and when does walking away put up a barrier which will impede future wall-breaking conversation? Does one shun all potentially sinful situations because of that potential sinfulness, when not being there means removing one's self from friends who do occasionally concede to at least hear Christianity out?
I guess it's about time I realised decisions aren't going to be clear cut anymore. It's going to be nigh impossible to completely opt out of certain situations, unless I'm willing to sacrifice everything that comes with it. The line between what's wrong and what's not is a fine one - and one that's permeable, at that.
What's interesting though is how it's made me a lot more aware of Christianity as an identity. And how Christians really are going to be looked at differently, and, if they're going to be true to what they profess, going to have to behave differently.
Why did I never feel this before? Possibly because Singapore is, ultimately, pretty religious. We all had different religions, yeah, but we HAD religions. There is a mind-boggling number of atheists and agnostics here. And Christians, Muslims, Jains and people of other religions who, to put it bluntly, don't actually believe. And while people are rarely actively hostile, Christians tend to be the butt of many jokes (for reasons usually entirely, unfortunately, explainable). Thus far I've only been able to figure out two reactions, of which I generally prefer the latter:
1. Take offence, walk away (and burn all bridges)
2. Accept the humor, glare a little, hope a chance comes to talk slightly less flippantly about it.
Still not very satisfactory, though.
Back to where I started. It annoys me when non-christians are portrayed as, for lack of a better word (and time), inferior. Foremostly because it isn't true, secondly because it usually annoys them enough to negate whatever progress that MAY have been made.
I think the point I'm trying to make here is this: we need to stop rendering black and white what in actuality is various shades of grey.
With a lot less ease than it looks.
And I can't say I blame them. Why do so many christian 'outreach' programmes and websites insist on portraying non-christians as stupid or just plain bad? As well-intentioned as it may be (how that's well-intentioned I leave up to your conjecture), that's just not true. Bad things don't only happen to bad people. More fundamentally, who are we to judge who are bad people? Christians aren't the only ones who know better than to do drugs/binge-drink (not that all of them don't) - non-Christians, religious or not, are perfectly capable of having strong beliefs and personal morals. And none have a monopoly on reason, logic or intelligence.
It's surprisingly hard to be Christian here. Not because people make it difficult, just because it's so much easier to not be. And when I say 'be' I mean, act like, profess, actually believe. When in a situation does walking away constitute testifying...and when does walking away put up a barrier which will impede future wall-breaking conversation? Does one shun all potentially sinful situations because of that potential sinfulness, when not being there means removing one's self from friends who do occasionally concede to at least hear Christianity out?
I guess it's about time I realised decisions aren't going to be clear cut anymore. It's going to be nigh impossible to completely opt out of certain situations, unless I'm willing to sacrifice everything that comes with it. The line between what's wrong and what's not is a fine one - and one that's permeable, at that.
What's interesting though is how it's made me a lot more aware of Christianity as an identity. And how Christians really are going to be looked at differently, and, if they're going to be true to what they profess, going to have to behave differently.
Why did I never feel this before? Possibly because Singapore is, ultimately, pretty religious. We all had different religions, yeah, but we HAD religions. There is a mind-boggling number of atheists and agnostics here. And Christians, Muslims, Jains and people of other religions who, to put it bluntly, don't actually believe. And while people are rarely actively hostile, Christians tend to be the butt of many jokes (for reasons usually entirely, unfortunately, explainable). Thus far I've only been able to figure out two reactions, of which I generally prefer the latter:
1. Take offence, walk away (and burn all bridges)
2. Accept the humor, glare a little, hope a chance comes to talk slightly less flippantly about it.
Still not very satisfactory, though.
Back to where I started. It annoys me when non-christians are portrayed as, for lack of a better word (and time), inferior. Foremostly because it isn't true, secondly because it usually annoys them enough to negate whatever progress that MAY have been made.
I think the point I'm trying to make here is this: we need to stop rendering black and white what in actuality is various shades of grey.
With a lot less ease than it looks.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Free
Corrine May's music is hauntingly, painfully beautiful.
So last night was an eye-opener, to how much I'm not the me I want to be anymore. Not that I didn't know before, just that it took memories of last night to jolt me out of the comfortable numb-ness I had settled into.
Today I started my first session as part of the 24/7 prayer movement. (www.24-7prayer.com), and it feels right. Like finally, things are moving His way. And I'm glad for it.
"You see bones. I see an army."
So last night was an eye-opener, to how much I'm not the me I want to be anymore. Not that I didn't know before, just that it took memories of last night to jolt me out of the comfortable numb-ness I had settled into.
Today I started my first session as part of the 24/7 prayer movement. (www.24-7prayer.com), and it feels right. Like finally, things are moving His way. And I'm glad for it.
"You see bones. I see an army."
Monday, January 29, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Beginnings and Ends
2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake,
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,
I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"
Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize,
Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe
May he turn 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist,
"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,
Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.
Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe
There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe.
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,
I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"
Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize,
Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe
May he turn 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist,
"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,
Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.
Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe
There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe.
Anna Nalick, Breathe (2am)
I'm good, y'all. And I hope you are too.
Just breathe.
Friday, January 05, 2007
It's gonna be a good week.
Today, as it is, was brilliant. And so brilliant I wouldn't mind if it WERE the high point. Swimming, day with the parents (in a good mood), the band.
:)
muppet.
And THEN, this:
-=phantaSmagoria=- "come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!" says: (12:30:47 AM)
SHUDDUP I'M TURNING GAY.
He'll defend himself, I'm sure, and tell you it's out of context. But that is THE best line I've heard all...last decade.
Bring it on, 2007. With friends like mine, I'm gonna enjoy the ride.
:)
muppet.
And THEN, this:
-=phantaSmagoria=- "come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!" says: (12:30:47 AM)
SHUDDUP I'M TURNING GAY.
He'll defend himself, I'm sure, and tell you it's out of context. But that is THE best line I've heard all...last decade.
Bring it on, 2007. With friends like mine, I'm gonna enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
The Books Warehouse Sale
at the expo is by far THE best books sale I've been too. I'm now the thrilled and slightly high new owner of:
1. Kafka on the shore, by Haruki Murakami ($5)
2. The Scar, by China Mieville
3. Touching Earth, by Rani Manicka
4. The House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton (3 for $10)
5. Life of Pi, by Yann Martel ($5)
6. The Dream of Scipio, by Iain Pears ($5)
7. Getting Mother's Body, by Suzan-Lori Parks ($5)
8. The Last Samurai, by Helen DeWitt ($4)
9.The House of Blue Mangoes, by David Davidar ($5)
10. The Rice Mother, by Rani Manicka ($6)
which is, if you aren't a mathmo with instant calculation abilities, 10 books for $45. I am over the moon. This is better than my discovery of Tequila Sunrises. The place ITSELF (Expo Hall 4b) is heaven on earth. I was given half an hour, and couldn't get through more than 4 of the many many barrows of books. My dad's face when he came back to get me and saw the books I had was priceless :D Now I just need to convince him to let me ship them all up with me...
And finish reading Richard II. And Henry IV. And The Tempest. And Antony and Cleopatra. Perhaps it'd be a better idea if I put the new books away for a while. Sigh.
Whoop :p
1. Kafka on the shore, by Haruki Murakami ($5)
2. The Scar, by China Mieville
3. Touching Earth, by Rani Manicka
4. The House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton (3 for $10)
5. Life of Pi, by Yann Martel ($5)
6. The Dream of Scipio, by Iain Pears ($5)
7. Getting Mother's Body, by Suzan-Lori Parks ($5)
8. The Last Samurai, by Helen DeWitt ($4)
9.The House of Blue Mangoes, by David Davidar ($5)
10. The Rice Mother, by Rani Manicka ($6)
which is, if you aren't a mathmo with instant calculation abilities, 10 books for $45. I am over the moon. This is better than my discovery of Tequila Sunrises. The place ITSELF (Expo Hall 4b) is heaven on earth. I was given half an hour, and couldn't get through more than 4 of the many many barrows of books. My dad's face when he came back to get me and saw the books I had was priceless :D Now I just need to convince him to let me ship them all up with me...
And finish reading Richard II. And Henry IV. And The Tempest. And Antony and Cleopatra. Perhaps it'd be a better idea if I put the new books away for a while. Sigh.
Whoop :p
Monday, January 01, 2007
Goodbye 06, Hellooooo 07
One realises, as the years go by (gawd, I sound old), that it's a lot easier to realise that some things stay and some things were nice while they lasted, but are nicer in retrospect. Or even if they arent, may be. So I package the experiences of 06 - reliefteaching, amoeba, amplify, ymm, 2 of the best months of my life, and look forward to those of 07 - I Havn't The Faintest Clue.
And am terrified. But thrilled at the same time.
Happy New Year everyone. Pics will be up shortly (I hope, seeing that I won't be HERE, shortly), and I looooove you.
And am terrified. But thrilled at the same time.
Happy New Year everyone. Pics will be up shortly (I hope, seeing that I won't be HERE, shortly), and I looooove you.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Jump!
Because I have a 1055 page book to read by Monday and an essay to write on it by Tuesday, an audition to go for in an hour and the last show of Prometheus Bound in 7, I've decided now's the best time to put up (the good) photos of my first term. I'm hoping the coming week will produce much more, but for now:
Kay, Bhav and I before going to Soul Tree
Neha and I
Jon and I before the Great Court Run
Me, Debs and 2nd year Englishians, Matriculation Night
Darshan setting fireworks off outside our window on Diwali
Vidhi (yes she crashed), me and Nils on Halloween
Jan and I, Halloween. He had a cloak! And therefore was Legolas from LOTR.
Prometheus Bound...
After the show, 2nd night. That's jon on the right. He, Nils and Jan bully me all the time, sigh.
Right, that's all for now folks. This time next week I'll be in Heathrow, waiting for the flight home. See you soooooooooon :p
Kay, Bhav and I before going to Soul Tree
Neha and I
Jon and I before the Great Court Run
Me, Debs and 2nd year Englishians, Matriculation Night
Darshan setting fireworks off outside our window on Diwali
Vidhi (yes she crashed), me and Nils on Halloween
Jan and I, Halloween. He had a cloak! And therefore was Legolas from LOTR.
Prometheus Bound...
After the show, 2nd night. That's jon on the right. He, Nils and Jan bully me all the time, sigh.
Right, that's all for now folks. This time next week I'll be in Heathrow, waiting for the flight home. See you soooooooooon :p
Friday, November 17, 2006
Content.
When really, I should be fretting over an essay. But all's good.
I've somehow managed to schedule myself a stupendously busy last two weeks...rehearsals every night till Monday, the play runs from Tuesday to Saturday, Advent Carol Service (which I'm serving in - I get to wear a server's robe woohoo!) on Sunday, Christmas Dinner on Monday, performing Handel's Messiah with the Trinity Singers on Wednesday, Fisher House Christmas Dinner on Thursday, PACK BAGS on Friday, leave Saturday morning, reach home Sunday.
The term's really flown by...but I feel like I've done a lot too, which is always a nice feeling.
What I meant to blog about was the fact that it's raining. Again. In fact, it hasn't stopped since I woke up (8.30. Too Early.) and doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon. It is the purrrfect weather for curling up with a mug of chocolate and reading FOR FUN. Not that reading anything isn't fun. Just something that doesn't require me to think every two sentences would be nice for a change. But nooo. Due to my crazy weekend, I need to start on my essay TODAY. The madness.
I think I'll take a shower first though. And make me the hot chocolate anyway. And maybe treat myself to some double chocolate fudge. Woot.
He for God only, she for God in him
I've somehow managed to schedule myself a stupendously busy last two weeks...rehearsals every night till Monday, the play runs from Tuesday to Saturday, Advent Carol Service (which I'm serving in - I get to wear a server's robe woohoo!) on Sunday, Christmas Dinner on Monday, performing Handel's Messiah with the Trinity Singers on Wednesday, Fisher House Christmas Dinner on Thursday, PACK BAGS on Friday, leave Saturday morning, reach home Sunday.
The term's really flown by...but I feel like I've done a lot too, which is always a nice feeling.
What I meant to blog about was the fact that it's raining. Again. In fact, it hasn't stopped since I woke up (8.30. Too Early.) and doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon. It is the purrrfect weather for curling up with a mug of chocolate and reading FOR FUN. Not that reading anything isn't fun. Just something that doesn't require me to think every two sentences would be nice for a change. But nooo. Due to my crazy weekend, I need to start on my essay TODAY. The madness.
I think I'll take a shower first though. And make me the hot chocolate anyway. And maybe treat myself to some double chocolate fudge. Woot.
He for God only, she for God in him
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Things I've figured out thus far.
1. I'm still not really a clubbing person. In fact, I'm not a clubbing person at all.
2. I enjoy alcohol. And getting a bit high. I still don't ever want to get smashed.
3. No amount of rationalisation is going to make a fling make sense to me.
4. I'm not really very good at being alone. But that doesn't mean I won't not go clubbing since everyone else is/jump into a relationship which doesn't even feel like a real friendship.
5. People not being clear with motives, not making up their minds about things and acting differently at different times, in different places and with different people are not worth my time. Or emotions.
6. The nicest seeming guys sometimes turn out to be the biggest bastards.
7. If someone says he will do some thing and then doesn't, chances are he's going to repeat it again. Stop giving second chances.
8. I really, really like lit. I could read forever.
9. Homesickness never actually goes away.
10. Sticking to your principles is a lot harder when you're the only one who holds them. And never as fulfilling as they say it'll be. But in retrospect, (I hope), worth it.
2. I enjoy alcohol. And getting a bit high. I still don't ever want to get smashed.
3. No amount of rationalisation is going to make a fling make sense to me.
4. I'm not really very good at being alone. But that doesn't mean I won't not go clubbing since everyone else is/jump into a relationship which doesn't even feel like a real friendship.
5. People not being clear with motives, not making up their minds about things and acting differently at different times, in different places and with different people are not worth my time. Or emotions.
6. The nicest seeming guys sometimes turn out to be the biggest bastards.
7. If someone says he will do some thing and then doesn't, chances are he's going to repeat it again. Stop giving second chances.
8. I really, really like lit. I could read forever.
9. Homesickness never actually goes away.
10. Sticking to your principles is a lot harder when you're the only one who holds them. And never as fulfilling as they say it'll be. But in retrospect, (I hope), worth it.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Enthralled.
What I love about this course is the actual amount of reading I'm able to do. And in DOING that reading, the absolutely fascinating things I'm able to discover. Today, it's St. Augustine's Confessions:
"But how can the future be diminished or absorbed when it does not yet exist? And how can the past increase when it no longer exists? It can only be that the mind, which regulates this process, performs three functions, those of expectation, attention, and memory. The future, which it expects, passes through the present, to which it attends, into the past, which it remembers. No one would deny that the future does not yet exist or that the past no longer exists. Yet in the mind there is both expectation of the future and remembrance of the past. Again, no one would deny that the present has no duration, since it exists only for the instant of its passage. Yet the mind's attention persists, and through it that which is to be passes towards the state in which it is to be no more. So it is not future time that is long, but a long future is a longexpectation of the future; and past time is not long, because it does not exist, but a long past is a long remembrance of the past."
Confessions, Chapter XI, Bk 28
"But how can the future be diminished or absorbed when it does not yet exist? And how can the past increase when it no longer exists? It can only be that the mind, which regulates this process, performs three functions, those of expectation, attention, and memory. The future, which it expects, passes through the present, to which it attends, into the past, which it remembers. No one would deny that the future does not yet exist or that the past no longer exists. Yet in the mind there is both expectation of the future and remembrance of the past. Again, no one would deny that the present has no duration, since it exists only for the instant of its passage. Yet the mind's attention persists, and through it that which is to be passes towards the state in which it is to be no more. So it is not future time that is long, but a long future is a longexpectation of the future; and past time is not long, because it does not exist, but a long past is a long remembrance of the past."
Confessions, Chapter XI, Bk 28
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
'appenings.
<ting>: so i heard best friend. am proud. really 
gave me a thrill of joy more than any amount of cider, jd and coke, cognac or southern whiskey with lemon and lime ever could.
I love you toot :)
gave me a thrill of joy more than any amount of cider, jd and coke, cognac or southern whiskey with lemon and lime ever could.
I love you toot :)
2 minutes ago, I was 900 words through a 1500 word essay, and on a roll. Why then, you ask, are you blogging? WELL. It's because I have a sudden craving for fish and chips (which I have yet to have in jolly ol' England, surprise surprise). But not just any fish and chips. Nooo. My cravings are wont to avoid craving for anything remotely attainable. I want fish and chips from Swensons. An American restaurant no one here has heard of. And not any Swensons, either. I want, quite desperately, fish and chips from the Swensons in Changi Airport.
It's rather inconvenient. And muchly distracting.
Phooey.
It's rather inconvenient. And muchly distracting.
Phooey.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Of ice IN my blood
I love how one day we're all in t shirts with sweaters hung carelessly round our shoulders, and the next (literally, 24 hours later) everyone's wrapped up in triple layers, hands in gloves, necks muffled in (pretty pretty trinity) scarves and EAR MUFFS. Which I don't own, but are attractive anyway. Come to think of it, I don't own a trinity scarf either. 30 pounds is almost 90 sing dollars, damnit.
But it really IS getting colder, and to quote a nice, sweet comforting 2nd year: it doesnt get warm again till ohhh...APRIL. *sob. I hope it snows, just because if I have to endure this cold, I should get at least THAT much of a reward, shouldn't I? Am contemplating bringing out my red winter jacket, but it's RED, see, and immensely bulky. We'll see tomorrow. At some point life is going to have to take precedence over style. Before I turn blue would be a good point. And for those of you who think it can't be THAT cold, we get winds from SIBERIA. SIBERIA. S.I.B.E.R.I.A. I jest not.
Cold, let me tell you, is not conducive to productivity. Mainly because when one realises it is cold outside, one realises one would rather stay inside. And if outside is just outside one's covers, one then realises that one would much definitely prefer to be WITHIN one's covers, and promptly turns the alarm clock off, rolls over and goes back to sleep. One overslept by 3 hours today, which is a record, even for one. Even upon recognising that one had 20 minutes to be ready for lecture, it took one amazing amounts of will power to get OUT of bed, in full knowledge that one's toes were going to freeze (which they did). I've never looked forward to hot showers so much. And yes, daddy, if you're reading this, I said SHOWERS. There's nothing like being very very cold to persuade one that a very very warm shower would be a very very good idea. We've taken to hogging the showers, which is quite amusing really. And even when I HAVE gotten myself out of bed, and am curled up relatively warmly dressed in my tub chair (which is becoming quite the favourite position), my FINGERS are cold and I'm reduced to sitting on them till I get up enough will power (again) to make myself hot chocolate and warm my fingers thus. Which, naturally, makes it quite impossible to do other stuff with them. Other things being reading books, typing essays, and writing plans. Not good.
What IS good though, are my plans for the weekend. I've weasled myself out of an early morning run with Fiona (it's waaay too cold to run, I'm sorry. I'll stick to pilates in thermals, track pants and a sweater.), but have promised to go for breakfast for her in hall, which is really good. Cooked, HOT breakfast. I have cereal, otherwise. After which I'm gonna do work till 11, at which point I'm heading over to the chaplain's place to help set up her daughter's doll house. It's so PRETTY, and it's got everything...even cutlery and tiny flowers and stuff. Then MORE work, and then rag raids at 2. Then back to work until 7, when I'm meeting a whole bunch of people at Great Gate and we're going to the Midsummer Commons to watch the Guy Fawkes fireworks whoopeeee. And if we're lucky we might just be able to crash the free dinner the Christian Union is giving. Free food's always welcome. Sunday it's choir practice at 930, and Mass with the Papal Nuncio at 1115, after which it's work again till after dinner. THEN I'm going for a concert by the Dante Quartet, which promises to be a brilliant evening with pretty brilliant company. Whoop.
Right. Then it's monday, at which point I would (under normal circumstances) be having a full blown essay crisis. I've had 3, for 3 essays, and I don't intend for it to happen again because it is NOT FUN. Therefore, I will now take my leave, and attempt to finish reading the Duchess of Malfi AND The Spanish Tragedy tonight. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :p
Oh and zid? I do NOT have an accent. Pfft.
But it really IS getting colder, and to quote a nice, sweet comforting 2nd year: it doesnt get warm again till ohhh...APRIL. *sob. I hope it snows, just because if I have to endure this cold, I should get at least THAT much of a reward, shouldn't I? Am contemplating bringing out my red winter jacket, but it's RED, see, and immensely bulky. We'll see tomorrow. At some point life is going to have to take precedence over style. Before I turn blue would be a good point. And for those of you who think it can't be THAT cold, we get winds from SIBERIA. SIBERIA. S.I.B.E.R.I.A. I jest not.
Cold, let me tell you, is not conducive to productivity. Mainly because when one realises it is cold outside, one realises one would rather stay inside. And if outside is just outside one's covers, one then realises that one would much definitely prefer to be WITHIN one's covers, and promptly turns the alarm clock off, rolls over and goes back to sleep. One overslept by 3 hours today, which is a record, even for one. Even upon recognising that one had 20 minutes to be ready for lecture, it took one amazing amounts of will power to get OUT of bed, in full knowledge that one's toes were going to freeze (which they did). I've never looked forward to hot showers so much. And yes, daddy, if you're reading this, I said SHOWERS. There's nothing like being very very cold to persuade one that a very very warm shower would be a very very good idea. We've taken to hogging the showers, which is quite amusing really. And even when I HAVE gotten myself out of bed, and am curled up relatively warmly dressed in my tub chair (which is becoming quite the favourite position), my FINGERS are cold and I'm reduced to sitting on them till I get up enough will power (again) to make myself hot chocolate and warm my fingers thus. Which, naturally, makes it quite impossible to do other stuff with them. Other things being reading books, typing essays, and writing plans. Not good.
What IS good though, are my plans for the weekend. I've weasled myself out of an early morning run with Fiona (it's waaay too cold to run, I'm sorry. I'll stick to pilates in thermals, track pants and a sweater.), but have promised to go for breakfast for her in hall, which is really good. Cooked, HOT breakfast. I have cereal, otherwise. After which I'm gonna do work till 11, at which point I'm heading over to the chaplain's place to help set up her daughter's doll house. It's so PRETTY, and it's got everything...even cutlery and tiny flowers and stuff. Then MORE work, and then rag raids at 2. Then back to work until 7, when I'm meeting a whole bunch of people at Great Gate and we're going to the Midsummer Commons to watch the Guy Fawkes fireworks whoopeeee. And if we're lucky we might just be able to crash the free dinner the Christian Union is giving. Free food's always welcome. Sunday it's choir practice at 930, and Mass with the Papal Nuncio at 1115, after which it's work again till after dinner. THEN I'm going for a concert by the Dante Quartet, which promises to be a brilliant evening with pretty brilliant company. Whoop.
Right. Then it's monday, at which point I would (under normal circumstances) be having a full blown essay crisis. I've had 3, for 3 essays, and I don't intend for it to happen again because it is NOT FUN. Therefore, I will now take my leave, and attempt to finish reading the Duchess of Malfi AND The Spanish Tragedy tonight. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :p
Oh and zid? I do NOT have an accent. Pfft.
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