Ripples and Sunshine

Charm and family is leaving for KL from 23rd to 25th Dec...

So Merry Christmas in advance, my dear friends, and have a wonderful blessed lovely year ahead with your loved ones =)

Love you all!

How do I feel about the CHIJMES gig? Well, I am feeling decidedly tranquil now, after a long day, but I still stand by the fact that Reso mustn't take up any more gigs from CHIJMES anymore. (Do the people from the management google blogs for feedback, I wonder?)

If it were an unsatisfactory performance someone somewhere would get into trouble, I think. It's a painful thought, but I sincerely believe that the Reso people have put in their best for the circumstances in which we were made to sing, without a sound system, out in open air, with an event organiser who is generally a nice guy but who... well, isn't quite aware of how a cappella functions, and a stressed up management-person who is generally impatient and (clearly!) annoyed at our very presence, who gives off an almost disdainful air... The repeated emphasis to be entertaining, lively, and loud, to bounce and sway and grin widely and walk around singing, to cover as large an area as possible and to please do only fast songs, never mind if you keep repeating the same songs... it's an awful compromise of quality a cappella singing. If they wanted bouncing santarinas and merry elves they could have said so, right at the very beginning, when they promised a sound system that failed to manifest itself. (and then perhaps we could have rejected the gig, and they could have found their merry bunch of yodellers, and everybody will be happy)

But I suppose things like these ought not matter... Several things more to grumble about but the fizz has gone out of the desire to complain about lousy planning. What mattered, after all, was that the clients are happy, and I think we didn't do too badly there-- we met some very nice appreciative audiences =) (those who were near enough to hear us, that is... there is only so much that enthu-hyper bouncing and snapping and singing loudly can do.) Christmas is a time for sharing, and I'm glad there is the opportunity to share the festivity with people who are able to enjoy them.

Plus the load of hard work put into practices paid off by itself through the delightfully fun pracs talking shrieking laughing and singing together with one of the most lovable bunch of people around. The clubroom was crowded almost daily, and every practice feels like some sort of a family reunion, with the rowdy merry chatterings and familiar carols drifting down the corridors of YIH, so that you feel abuzz with the festive spirit already =)

That said, the earlier MINDS gig was a lot more rewarding one, simply from the delighted smiles and waves of the children and the adults, too. I love the kids! Was initally worried about whether they would be able to sit through a full half an hour set, but they remained relatively attentive and decidedly cheerful throughout, randomly fidgeting at times, but joining in with such gusto whenever they catch a familiar tune. I would rather dance and bounce and sing for them any day, in exchange for their happy contentment.

Shall post up pictures after I get them for my fellow singers =)

Monday 18th Dec 2.30pm: MINDSville@ Lorong Napiri

Thursday 21st Dec 8pm-11pm at CHIJMES (two sets of 45 minutes; we'll be moving from restaurant to restaurant)

More updates on other Reso gigs that you can go for this season here!

Vodka has a stinging spicy taste at the first sip, like fire that burns your tonuge and runs down your throat, but the warmth that follows is a surprisingly settling one. And then subsequently the fire fades and sweetness sets in, in an odd sort of bittersweet aftertaste. With enough ice it feels almost like a soft drink, an unassuming sprite or coke, without their overwhelming sweetness or gassiness...

Interesting, as new things always are... And deeply fascinating, the layers in a drink, concocted in such a way that some flavours prick the taste buds in such marked distinctness, while other layers remain an inexplicable mix that you can't quite make out.

Almost like a human being.

Does your reaction to alcohol make your layers of self more distinct, and more murky at the same time, I wonder?

It still feels odd, wondering what I would be like if I had consciously helped myself to drink, whether it would mean a heightened consciousness of the self or a gradual dissolution.

Okay, this is starting to sound like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. *ponders* But if you aren't a person struggling to over-achieve in the way Jekyll does, forcing himself to live up to abysmal expectations --societal, and his own-- all the time, then there wouldn't be a repressed Hyde springing out from within him, raging to be freed. There's something about an inner balance that keeps you the way you are, I think, alcohol or no.

Mmm. Very random thoughts.

Speaking of Jekyll and Hyde, they changed the focus of the level 4000 19th Century module to geographical spaces. No more gothic. *wails in a banshee-like manner* WHY? I've been looking forward to taking that gothic module since year 1! WHYEEEE did they change the syllables? No more explorations of deep dark other-side of the human psyche =( Granted, they dispersed texts like Dracula into the Feminism module and Frankenstein into the Psychoanalysis module, and they're still fun to do, but it's not exploring the texts in their full gothic element! Aiyeeeerrrr.

Darn, I think I have effectively disrupted my previous contemplative train of thought. Sheesh. More news on the Reso Chlamp (or perhaps a picture or two) next entry, when I get round to uploading the pics =)

Utterly exhausted.

Quite fulfilled, though =) Resolved to clear up the room good and proper today, and clear I did, along with my brother. Together we conquered 8 shelves, four cupboards and a table. Not merely the usual packing this time, but a major project--a dilligently thorough job of vaccuuming every nook and cranny and ant, dusting and wiping every dusty surface, going through old work and discarding stuff (we cleared an approximate two garbage bags) and getting everything back in place.

And look what we've got!

(S.K. declares that I must credit him for half the work, so there's his victory sign =) )

And since this is turning out to be a photoblog and blogger's picture-uploading function is working(!) I shall post a few more pics!

Went Vivo for lunch with OOPs (before lucky Cheryl flies off to Aussie) and a movie!


Gotta love those groovy penguins =) Was close to bouncing to every song, and contemplated quite seriously, for a while, whether OOPs could venture into singing and tap dancing *glint in eye* Ohohohoho.

But before the musical director freaks out I think we'd better work on our pitching and blending first, lar =)

And then we tap dance. *grins*

And after the movie it was dessert-for-Amanda at Earle Swensens! (Amanda's birthday is coming soon, everybody please go and wish her happy birthday when you next see her) We had a lovely window seat with a lovely lovely view!

*pause*

Eh. Hang on. Did we forget to take a group photo?

*horrified*

We DID forget to take a group photo! Despite having three cameras! And such a stunning view! Wei~!

*clears throat* Well. Anyhow. Jeremy taught us how to do artistic close-up shots, so the remaining four of us spent nearly an hour, between bites, taking pictures of the salt and pepper shaker, and various cutlery *grins*







Lovely, no? =)

I so resent my disability to sustain a decent conversation with people in general. It makes me feel excessively dumb (in all senses of the word!) How do I describe to you how I feel about your play, for instance?

And because I didn't come across AT ALL intelligible with my halting mandarin and my awful AWFUL tongue-tiedness where the brain just flails around like a chicken wildly struggling in deep waters, and Char is not online for me to whine at, I shall attempt to articulate bits of foggy thoughts about Pulau here. Just to make me happy.

After mulling over the play in the shower (I think better in the shower, for some odd reason) I guess the main thing that comes to me with regards to Pulau is that sense of... incompleteness. It wasn't just the girl who was incomplete-- the girl who has lost something that she cannot remember (how often have we felt this way, if only in our dreams?) The story itself gives off, repeatedly, a--how do I put it? an "almost-but-not-quite" feeling. A desire, or a memory, or a clue to what this whole play about is slowly unravelled, unravelled... and then taken away. Whether with a rejection, or an awakening from the past with a sudden jerk, or a narrative that is suddenly interrupted and then overlapped by the next narrative...

And the sense of loss, too, that pervades the piece... So that you don't know, any more than the character does, what she really is seeking...

I'm trying to figure out why I'm having difficulties articulating my thoughts about the issues explored in the play (beyond the fact that I suck at verbal communication), so I'm turning the play over in my head and talking it out here. Writing allows me to attempt to catch fleeting images and stitch them into coherent picture, somehow, and you don't see me flounder and stammer for words-- I can hesitate and let my fingers hover over the keyboard and flip the thoughts over and over in my own time, without pressure. And you still get to see pretty paragraphs, worded comprehensively in the way I would like them to sound.

But I digress. Back to figuring out why the ambiguity I feel.. (and now the literary part kicks in) I'm thinking, even as the play makes allusions to Singapore, to politics, to entrapment upon an island, you can't just compress it into a single theme or issue and say, "This play is about being trapped under the rigid Singaporean rule" Because it isn't, I think. (Note the multiple disclaimers: It's always "I think", not "It is", because nobody can impose a single reading on any piece of work--it limits the richness of the text. And my views might be completely different from the writer's, for all I know) It's subversive, definitely, in little ways, and it provokes you to contemplation... to wonder at some point, for instance, why there are certain things "you" (the ruling party?) can impose on its people... of ridiculous little ironies that govern us even in our deaths... yet there is this vagueness that I can't... quite... explain... The significance of this sense of loss that you cannot identify... but what have we lost? Always, always it comes back to this thing that you have lost, that you're desperately seeking, that keeps you tied to a single place, trapped, so that the only movement, within the play, is the shift from one memory to another, all linked by this sense of incompleteness and loss...

And I love the fact that everything is done within a space no bigger than a square metre, a tiny "island" of sand that they never stepped out of =) The performers were brilliant =) Goodness, the emotional intensity! The lighting was well done, too, in setting the mood, and the sound gives the island a very 3D feel...

There. Now that I've got it out somewhat, I feel so so much better. *smiles* If I can at least work a sensible fraction of these into the conversation just now I wouldn't feel so utterly unintelligent, and I wouldn't have left the poor playwright feeling puzzled and bemused and awkward by my own fragmented incomplete sentences, and Charlene wouldn't have to do all the chatter and attempt desperately to involve me in the conversation as well. I am half tempted to email and say "Your play is brilliant, it's just that I need time to digest it because it's so heavily layered! Gimme a little more time and I can tell you how I feel about it" (now, that's not so hard to say, is it, Charm? Beyond the ummm, maybe, eh... yah...?)

Sigh. Think of all the darn times you can learn from thought-provoking discussions with these brilliant people, that all but disappear because you can't talk!

I am so thoroughly exasperated by my astounding communication skills sometimes.

Feeling grumpy with regards to the last paper, and am inclined to sulk and feel sorry for myself (act smart lar, huh, construct complex arguments that you don't know how to argue for during exams lar, huh, machiam like you got so much time, huh, then in the end cancel paragraphs after paragraphs, huh...)

But never mind. *shakes fist in air* Charmaine shall not die but live on in... in... eh. Okay this quote doesn't work. Haiyer.

Must not mope lar Charm.

I must say though, it's very nice to go back to the clubroom and find your friends immensely excited and relieved (even more than you were!) because you finished your papers. Thanks guys =) All the best for your papers k... you guys have been the absolute best study mates ever =D (And hor, if you're reading this before Wednesday, WEI! Go back and study lar! And then we can go watch Happy Feet! And sing!)

Swingles tonight! And Sunday breakfast tmr!

Am feeling better already =)

Got this from Sharon's blog! *waves to Sharon*

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Quality Time
with a secondary love language being
Acts of Service.

Complete set of results

Quality Time:		11
Acts of Service:		8
Physical Touch:		5
Words of Affirmation:		5
Receiving Gifts:		1

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz
(and like Sharon said, when you're done, get back to studying!)

M-pact was... mind-blowing.

Wow.

Wow wow wow.

Nothing like watching them live in concert, the energy and the larger-than-life personas and the voices...!

You should just watch them sing "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies Fairy" Nothing short of magic. (oops, grammatical error! Thanks Davina for the correction :P But that would be quite a lot of fluttering for one fairy, then...)

Speechless with awe. Best a cappella concert yet, and to think it was a spontaneous last-minute by-chance happened-to-be-in-school (mugging on a Sunday!) happened-to-have-extra-ticket instance... in exchange for such a thrilling ride.

I hope they come again. I got their CD, fully autographed by all of them *beams*

(Okay break over Charm~)

"Can I buy you a drink, or should I just give you the money?"
-Failed pickup artist

Patrick: I'm mad.
Spongebob: What's the matter, Patrick?
Patrick: I can't see my forehead.

Insanity ensues.

I don't know where I placed my JC gothic notes and I really really really want my Dracula notes but I already spent the wee hours of the morning turning out my highest cupboards and I still don't see it howwww?

Headache for the large part of the day. Couldn't get the denser stuff in so I abandoned them and settled for a fresh new entirely unrelated book instead. Polished off 300-odd pages straight in a few hours... It was such a lovely lovely read, albeit being somewhat a forbidden pleasure in revision week... This is what I call light reading, genuine teen fiction, (not Freud's psychoanalytic readings or Irigaray's and Cixous's feminist theories or The Haunting of Sylvia Plath or poetry that boggles me still).

(Goodness, I want to write so much! But everytime my fingers tap upon the keyboard the words that appear inevitably tell me that I must get back to studying soon, soon...)

Oh you really must study Charm you must! For all the modules you so love this sem... at least do them all justice, yes? =)

It is the perfect period to study and write, I think. In a quiet isolation where you're not quite alone. The hum of the air conditioning compressor, the chatter of people further down the corridor, the conversation of strangers sharing the same table.

But it is tempting to launch into a series of contemplations too, no? The silence is entrancing.

Just recalled a little something I came across yesterday, a blog address passed to me by a traumatised junior. It is, to be fair, a journal well-written, in language and in expression and in flow... Extremely explicit, yes, but then I have come to realise that sexual explicitness does not automatically negate literary merit, if you know how to tap into language in its beauty.

Perhaps the problem comes with knowing the person, whether directly or indirectly. Or, cruelly put, by the writer's physical being, one that perhaps might not live up to... to... expectations of... associations with the written imagery.

Painful fact. =(

But what really disturbed me was its accessibility to the people in her real life, students she teaches, young kids, children with a generally untainted world-view and an idealistic impression of the world in all its decency... not-- not-- your role model (is that not what an adult, a teacher, ought to be, perhaps?) engaging in... decadent acts.

Or are the technologically savvy children nowadays more... enlightened creatures than we were/ I was back then? more exposed to the world, more... knowledgeable?

Is it necessarily a bad thing, to know?

My junior declares herself deeply traumatised.

I push it aside as yet another piece of written text that an author is perfectly entitled to write, and readers are perfectly entitled to engage with or dismiss. So long as it isn't deliberately positioned to hurt another it is fine... right?

But...

But the kids! The horror! *groans* Am I being conservative in suggesting that perhaps there are still things that oughtn't be accessed when one is not yet of age? Especially in the form of explicit descriptions of the personal life of someone you know, someone that may perhaps hold the delicate responsibilities of nurturing young minds? *faintly nauseous*

Ouch.

Alas. I shouldn't have switched on the computer... there comes a million and one things to distract me, friends with news and cheerful chatter, and blogs finally updated with quirky new entries.

And the random personality test that I chanced upon in a friend's blog, that I took before back in JC, I think, but decided to take again, with the exact same results, if I remember right...

Charmaine, your signature color is Pink Chiffon

There's nothing saccharine about you — your sweetness is one hundred percent natural! A gentle, thoughtful romantic like you must be paired with a color that's soft and warm — but still has a subtle sophisticated sheen. That's why Pink Chiffon is the perfect color for you! You're probably known for making the most of every situation and trying to see the best in people. But while you may be cheerful and innocent at times, you're nobody's fool. You may see the world through rose-colored glasses, but you can still see, after all.While you make wise insights time after time, it's probably your good nature and perpetual optimism that are what you're known for and what make you a joy to be around. Even those who sometimes make fun of your Pollyanna-like proclamations will turn to you when they need a friend and some cheering up. So keep pink, Chiffon. With you around, the world's a better place!

What's Your Signature Color?

Brought to you by Tickle

*raises an eyebrow* "Pollyanna-like"! and girlish pink! Sheesh, I'm becoming a stereotype...! Just when I would very much like to declare that I am not a girly-girl...

Anyhow. I spent my weekend catching up on sleep and spending time with the family (and shopping with Mum! ohohohoho!) and (re-)reading Villette for my next essay. And I find yet again that Villette is really a lovely read, when you start to pick up on the nuances, and see how little fragments of the text fall in place when you do a romantic (the era, not the emotion) reading, or a feminist reading... or when you read it for yourself, for pleasure =) How much of myself I do see in the novel, in Lucy, in Paulina, even in flighty Ginevra... it is in instances like that, when you find a startling familarity in character, or values, or beliefs, or upbringing, that you feel how real literature can get, sometimes. It is ever a continual process of self discovery, an unfolding and an exploration that is all of your own, whenever you put a text in perspective.

Or it is just me being narcissistic and seeing myself everywhere, haha.

I am too easily read sometimes, I think, and, while this bothers me at certain crucial moments in time when I feel intimidated, I figured that there is still only so much that one person can know about another, and the power that comes with knowledge doesn't necessarily need to be threatening to either. No time to delve into this at present, I really must go back to reading and then writing. And the midi, too...!

Till the next time =)

I'm so glad the week-of-consecutive-assignments is over! =)

Oh no, I'm backdated in my email reply again! But here's a mini entry for a dear auntie whom I haven't seen for many many years... since we were this small, I think:



Hello Auntie Miiko! *waves* =)

Here's a mini picture-collage update of the family just last month!



Will email soon!

I like this book! =D

On hiking... and life

How strange to realise that something so natural had come as a revelation. It was obvious from obseving the people we met that I was not alone in my lack of insight. Only when they stop to catch their breath was it permissible for most hikers to enjoy the scenery and the sunshine and the tingle in the air. Then back they went into over-directing their feet, step-by-step, monotonously wending their way to some chosen destination above... I realised how dangerous a destination can be. If we put our energies only into getting our destination or reaching our goal, we block our sensibilities along theway. We pretend that arriving is of utmost importance, and put our mind to work overtime in seeing that we get there. Once there, alas, the habis of the journey remain, and we soon spoil our enjoyment with plotting the next stretch or the return trip.

We often give our minds too exclusive a role in the mind/body relationship. Our senses play ever less responsible roles, like children who become convinced that mother really does know best and thus lose their capacity for growth...

How often in life do we do the same kind of eyes-down plodding with an over-abundance of directional information from our minds: careful, now, to say the right things in that job interview... don;t make those exciting plans unless you're sure you can follow through... better be careful abou this new friendship... careful, careful, watch your step, don't stumble, keep your eyes on the trail. We accept this tyranny because it is so familiar. Authority figures all along the way have trained us all too well. Small wonder that our minds take over the authority role in constantly dictating our bodies...

When we over-look, over-try, over-instruct in our lives, we do the same ankle-twisting stumbling. We miss the essence of the experience as a constant discovery, a consciousness of being, a journey with a view of peaks and far horizons rather than a necessary trudge along a dusty pathway. When we wake up our awareness, we become like a mustang galloping above a canyon rather than a workhourse stumbling along with blinders, guided by the presumed expertise of the mind-master. This does not mean tat we can abandon the mental proceses so necessary in learning. It is more that we create a mutually supportive team, a partnership of mind and body...

-"Journey with a View", from A Soprano On Her Head by Eloise Ristad

I need a good thesis statement. How? Mulvey's article on Visual Pleasure and the Narrative Cinema is a nicely grounded one, and applicable enough, but studying Psycho through gender representations alone is so limiting...! I don't like =( I wanna talk about the notion of loneliness and entrapment and alienation because they're closer to the heart of the text, but what approach do I use then? And what point should I make?

Oh, my brain.

Anyhow, here's a quirky bit of poem from Grace Nicholls's Fat Black Woman Poems Collection, dedicated to all my dear female readers:

The Fat Black Woman's Motto on Her Bedroom Door
IT'S BETTER TO DIE IN THE FLESH OF HOPE
THAN TO LIVE IN THE SLIMNESS OF DESPAIR

Poetry is lovely, really. I wish I weren't so intimidated by them half the time.

Back to film-essaying!

Good morning Charm, I'm glad you finished your assignments.

It's alarming how you can plan weeks in advance and do notes and start writing, and still get nothing done until the night before.

Am feeling oddly spaced out but otherwise very awake.

Am so glad for Reso prac last night! Love the singing, love the in-between breaks =) And the hilarious bus-and-mrt ride home where Jiayan and I and Adrian (for the bus part of the journey, at least) contemplated a series of Alternate Designs for MRT Doors For Inconsiderate People Who Block The Way.

Gives the crammed brain a little bit of a breather, and what a relief this little gust of fresh air brings! For once in a way the bits of my proposal and the meeting news article fall into place, and words could flow in welcomed fluidity.

Only one more assignment to go before the weekend! =)

I finished my body lit essay! *whoops with glee* All 2700-odd words of it, which, along with the bibliography, adds up to 10 pages =)

I haven't submitted a 10-paged lit essay since the last time when Dr A was recovering from her lasik surgery and requested to have our essay content enlarged to font size 14 so she can read better.

Was feeling decidedly sorry for myself because technology decided to turn its nose at me just as the Week of Many Deadlines loomed in sight. My desktop hard disk has crashed proper and refused to be revived; my laptop hangs with every program I open, which meant that work takes up double the time.

So I spent my Sunday in school, continued into Monday through the night, hitting a decidedly optimistic 2,200 words only at 5 a.m. this morning. Which meant that early morning Science of Music lecture has to be forgone (again), because I cannot under any circumstance risk a migraine any time this week =(

Oh, a helpful tip--Panadol is actually effective when taken at the onset of a migraine, the period of time when you feel it coming. Once the ache gets into your head, though, it doesn't work anymore.

So Panadol did come in helpful sometime in the late afternoon today, which explains why I'm still alive and well and typing away at this hour, completed essay on the table =)

But this is just assignment 1 of 4 for the week. Oh, woe. Never liked consecutive deadlines.

Am tremendously grateful for friends who are around online or otherwise to put up with my alternately frazzled nerves and drowsy incoherence for the last couple of days.

Am looking forward to next Monday, where I shall be entitled to a day or two to breathe. Maybe get mum to go Vivo for a long long long long long missed shopping trip, or tea-break. =D

I am quite incorrigible sometimes when deadlines come in chunks and I begin to panic. It gets really bad when a headache is thrown into the scene, and even worse when I realise the headache isn't really a headache, but a migraine in the making.

And for those in-between moments I would write or type furiously, about any random thing that comes to mind, just to get things out of my system. And should words fail me utterly I would be quite quite distraught, because it would mean I've lost, for the moment, the ability to decipher what it is I need to deal with... although sometimes I suspect that my mind just refuses to drag things out to sort, preferring instead to settle for frustrated ignorance.

Whatever works, so long as tomorrow is a better day. And it often is =)

*taps finger on table*

Darn, the scribbled entry on the bus doesn't make practical reading sense. I gaze at it and wonder at the vague vague words that I do understand in an odd kind of way, but they don't say anything much to anyone else, I think, other than indicating that I'm an awfully spaced-out creature sometimes.

What do you think when you're alone with your thoughts sometimes? When no one is around, when you draw into your own inner world, and the outside world lapses into a misty silence that ceases to matter?

I remember those hour long lunches I had by myself on my previous temp job, when my lunch hour often had to be seperate from the rest because I was the only person covering my scope of duties. Heading out alone, eating alone, walking alone, and watching the world go by, this independent being whose existence had no relation whatsoever to the many people that pass you by.

(With what enthusiasm and cheer I had picked up every phonecall "Hello, good morning!" during my working hours there then, for 10 seconds of human communication that breaks the monotony of non-stop work, and how every message to the handphone had me smiling so, and how I looked forward to Thursdays, where Peggy the accountant comes to occupy the seat behind mine, and we can talk for ages and ages...)

But I digress. Anyhow, it was one of those long lunch hours that I started to wonder if every person had an inner world that he or she could draw him or herself into, this world that exists as a construct of thoughts and feelings, this world, this sanctuary that you withdraw into when you need to be by yourself, when you reflect, when you want a timeout from this world of bustling activities.

It's almost like a Quizilla question. "WHAT IS YOUR INNER WORLD? (PICTURES INCLUDED!)"

What would this world of yours look like, if you were to draw a picture of it? Would it be a place, perhaps? An imaginary lakeside and a tall tree with drooping branches of leaves that brush against the water? A bare room, with white walls and ceiling and floor? A large cavern, that reaches deep deep within, shadowy and grey, with rocky edges that glint with reflected moonlight? A sunlit meadow, an endless stretch of long grass that sway in the breeze?

That kinda place you would imagine that you retreat to think, a place inaccessible from the world.

I imagined my place (and I had a darn lot of time to imagine then, trust me) to be a shady forest clearing, with a waterfall by the side, rushing water tumbling into a pool making a constant, lulling whish-whoosh, where the trees will rustle in the breeze, where the sunlight will peek through the foilage and leave dapples of sun rays on the ground, where the streaming water glints in random places the reflected rays. When it rains I draw into a cavern, a dim glittering cave with a high high ceiling, that echoes away when you hum a tune. Moonlight comes in at an angle, and a trickle of steam runs from a corner into a quiet underground pool.

An inner world of thought visualised, a little imagined sanctuary part of myself (though, when you think back again, there usually isn't much luxury of time to construct background images to house your thoughts -_-) Otherwise it is just a misty haze of the outer world as you slip into the liminal realm between reality and imagination.

Well. Just a very random (albeit rather elaborate) thought =) (which does not occur too frequently, don't worry) What would your inner world be like?


(Pardon the density... it is difficult to edit abstract thoughts into digestable text that serves a purpose, and even I wonder at the randomness of this pattern of thoughts sometimes)

Do me a favour.

Pause for the slightest ever moment, and wonder, for a little while, whether you might or might not have perhaps hurt the feelings of someone in your life at any moment in time. Whether you might have been insensitive, gone overboard, and been absolutely blind to your own actions. Shrugged, laughed it off, dismissed it with ease... For what do words matter, when they are carelessly thrown out in fun and good-nature?

Like little kids that engage in playful fights and hit out at another without knowing. If the other kid does not retailiate, do you assume that you've never hurt your playmate?

Perhaps we've done it too often to even realise that other people might have feelings like we do too. And that their feelings do frigging matter as well.

Thanks for all the well-wishes, the presents, the cards, the hugs, the smses, the food... and every little bit of effort that means a whole whole lot to me =)

and... and the song, and the book, and the saturday night surprise visit...

I don't know what to say, except that I really don't know where I'll be without you all.

Thank you for being part of my life.
Every single one of you.

=)

I realised, with some horror, that we didn't take a group photo at the OOPs-sizzlers-dinner-celebration-for-Wai-Lun's-birthday.

... Wei, how can forget?

I think we were all too caught up with watching Derek eat vegetables to remember anything else.

The above-mentioned party very bravely dared Cheryl to get him a plate of salad of her choice, and promised to finish it all, in a valiant attempt to silence the rude remarks the OOPs gang regularly makes with regards to his picky eating.

I think Derek was probably expecting something small and friendly, like this:



Now, this is probably what Charmaine would have taken.

But then of course, because he dared Cheryl the Salad Queen, the unchallenged veggie-lover who had calmly demolished several servings of salads of every variety in one sitting, such leniency is not to be expected.

Of course, we must not discount the contributions of two extremely gleeful male advisors, (who shall not be named since we all know who they are anyway) "Wah lao, take more take more! Eh! Add onions leh! Oh oh, put some more celery!"

(I mean it when I say gleeful. They were almost bouncing to the salad bar to watch Cheryl pick out the ingredients, can.)

Er-hmm.

So our protagonist was presented with a forest of dense vegetation to demolish.



Our valiant protagonist fought long and hard, overcoming vegetable after vegetable to emerge triumphant to the applause of 5 impressed OOPsians. So the next time you meet Derek along the arts fac corridor, be sure to congratulate him in completing his mission =D

That aside, I suspect that Mr Chong enjoyed himself tremendously throughout his good friend's traumatising experience. His only regret, the author believes, was that he did not add more onions to the dish.

And of course, there is the matter of the strawberry lip gloss, but that is another story for another day, and I'm withholding pictures for er... well, if there is need for blackmail in future. Just remember to wish Wai Lun a happy belated birthday when you next see him along the corridors too =)

Talk is cheap, you say, so I shall not embellish the moment with words.

As it is I owe all three of you a big big hug.

=)

So good to see you girls again =)

I just found this in Sharon's flickr collection *beams* I like! It's something to do with good friends and sunflowers and sunlight and smiles that makes it pretty pretty pretty =) And her birthday party was nice and warm and cosy, so even though I kinda barely knew anyone, besides Sharon and Zhen, it still left a nice cosy feeling =) (Yah I know, this is kinda belated a comment, eeps, but the picture kinda reminded me to write, mah...)

I have two assignments to rush! But because there's no school tmr I get this false sense of security... and I figured I can let myself breathe a tiny bit, maybe. I get so boggled thinking about feminism and insanity and language, rawr. And the profile. And the test. Sigh.

The texts are getting overtly disturbing nowadays, methinks. Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper and the narrator's descent into insanity, Kafka's In the Penal Colony and the torture machine that spends twelve hours piercing words of your crime onto your body before running your head through with a spike, Scarry's thesis on "The Structure of Torture" and how pain functions to control the human body, and Under the Skin and multilating alien bodies and processing and consuming human flesh as irresistable delicacy... Very visual stuff.

One needs a good stomach to do lit, I think.

Da has an interesting question about "who is your muse?" that I thought was really interesting. I shall go ponder over a shower and see if I can come up with an answer. But-- must one person only have one muse, one source of inspiration? And must a muse even be a person? Not the breeze in the trees, or the laughter of children, or a piece of prose that touches you, or a song that speaks to you, or rain against your window, or a long bus ride, or... people, people in general, who are so transient themselves, so different, who makes you feel different each and every point in time? Will that deviate entirely then from the point of having a muse?

Hmm. Do you know who is your muse?

"The atoms that had been herself would mingle with the oxygen and nitrogen in the air. Instead of ending up buried in the ground, she would become part of the sky: that was the way to look at it. Her invisible remains would combine, over time, with all the wonders under the sun. When it snowed, she would be part of it, falling softly to earth, rising up again with the snow's evaporation. When it rained, she would be there in the spectral arch that spanned from firth to ground. She would help to wreathe the fields in mists, and yet would always be transparent to the stars. She would live forever."

-Under the Skin, Michel Faber

The Body module has the absolute nicest set of texts ever, second only to the sci-fi and fantasy module so far. But the rest of the modules this sem are not bad, really. I need to get down to reading Rebecca once there is a pause in deadlines. Oh, and whiny Dracula too (stupid whiny crew of men...)

But Dracula is quite funny sometimes, actually. And like all long-winded A Level texts you tend to remember the crazy bits. Like this silly instance of extreme understatement, where Jonathan Harker realises, for the first time, that there is something very wrong with his host. Happened when he realised Count Dracula standing right behind him, but couldn't see him in his shaving mirror:

"But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself. This was startling, and...... was beginning to increase that vague feeling of uneasiness...
(etc, etc...)
When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there...
(etc... he takes a while to get to the point)
Then seizing the shaving glass... and opening the heavy window... he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word."

And how did our incredibly mild Jonathan react? Scream bloody murder and fling his shaver aside and run for life?

Not quite.

What follows immediately after the dramatic confrontation was,

"It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving pot, which is fortunately of metal."

......

One of the reasons why Dracula isn't as scary as one might think.

I think one of the main reasons why I remember this out-of-point bit so much was because Dylan used to find great pleasure in quoting "It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave" to Shell and I, with lots to smug approval, much to Shell's exasperation and my amusement. Hehe. Seriously, I think that's the only line he remembers from Dracula -_-

Sheesh.

Random other-stuff...
My mum got me a very very pretty watch today =) Oh and Dr Y. accepted my Body proposal! I didn't have to redo! =)) And I finished exercise 5 =))) And the haze is gone and the air smells good! =))))

Looking forward to the end of the week where the next three deadlines'll be cleared up =)

Spent a whole day packing the family hall, old large storage containers and part of my shelf.

Look what I found!



Looks familiar, anyone? Let's take a closer peek!



Lower primary textbooks! When was the last time you saw your PETS coursebook, or your hao gong ming text? Rare antiques, okay... You don't even have them in the market anymore, with the syllables (oops! my mistake... and ding ding ding! Derek spotted it!) syllabus and textbooks changes...





Gosh, I miss the illustrators...



Feeling nostalgic, anyone?


That said, we cleared out some 6 garbage bags of stuff today, and one big box of toys and stuff to be recycled. It's a bit hard for me to clear out stuff sometimes, especially if I am in a sentimental mood, and feel that I oughta keep every other thing because it tingles with fond memories of the past. I've gotten better over the years, lar, and don't hesitate at every scrap of paper or flower or ornament or worksheet (but the old yellow parchment-ish worksheets with careful little handwriting is so sweet...!) so I do actually get a little more room =) Still have a weakness with written stuff, though. Found myself salvaging notes and postcards and letters and essays and even scribbled ramblings during lectures (I never knew I wrote so much...!)

Something that kinda struck me, though... Can I request to please please not have stuff-toy or ornament presents? Unless of course it comes with a decently sized glass cabinet to be placed in, so I wouldn't have to worry about collecting dust on the shelves (swepted one level of my shelf today and there was enough dust to roll into a grey ball *shudder*). But Charmaine doesn't have a glass cabinet and is definitely not asking for one, so let not another poor stuff toy or ornament suffer the fate of a dusty dwelling =)

Oh and I sorted six small albums of JC photos into one big one. More space! Yay!

The temporal neatness will last until my next deadline, when notes will be spewed all over with a vengeance, and my parents will start to enquire, with some exasperation, why I work in a rubbish dump. Ah, well -_-

Spent a day away on packing, but oddly enough it felt decently weekend-ish, and that I was actually getting stuff done, with satisfyingly visible results. Must get back to the homework, though. Aiyeee.

I handed in a term paper and finished a presentation this week. Just one more proposal to go before weekend beckons! =)

It is very odd that I cannot remember what I said at all during the presentation, because my mind was in an incomprehensible flustered blank, but I think writing a presentation transcript helped a lot. My groupmates said I sounded nice and friendly, which I suppose is a good thing, because I was only reading straight off my notes in blind auto-pilot.

Which means that the extra effort that goes into preparing a separate informal script written in second-person "do you see the link now?" "if you would hold that thought for a minute... lemme show you the next bit..." "now, so how do we do this?" actually works for the flustered mind that was quite spaced out in anxiety =) spent the hour-long bus trip to school with the notes before me talking away under my breath, occassionally pausing and quirking an eyebrow and tilting my head to stare quizzically at the paper, but amazingly no one gave me weird looks. Ah well.

That aside, there is this guy in my class that looks uncannily like another friend of mine. I get a jolt of surprise every time I look at him, especially when he's got this exact same expression that my other friend always wears. And no, they don't have the same surnames, and are immensely different in how they talk, but... *shudder* It's freaky lar, can, and he's in three of my modules, so on days when my mind is in a decidedly dramatic mode I'll be reminded of gothic Doubles and Uncanny reflections and mirrored Selfs.

Very weird.

Okay, must not get carried away. Had a field day analysing female insanity and madness, logic, il-logic and a-logic, and irreducible Otherness and the Elsewhere outside patriarchal discourse during seminar today. It is very scary to have extremely vocal, eloquent and cheemified people in your class, a good percentage of whom you see on Dean's List.

I concluded that I am no dramatic passionate fighter against existing systems, nor aspiring abolisher of the established status-quo, so literary discourse is a... kinda enjoyable vicarious dramatisation of what I would not get to do in reality =) I am honestly quite a content creature of systems and habits (sad as it sounds... wah lao, then be arts student and question so much for what, right?) probably because I have never really had stuff imposed upon me (read: I usually get what I want, without even having to ask for them ^_^)--so I very seldom demand for radical changes in anything. While I can't find the heart to condemn alternative preferences and am generally sympathetic towards the marginalised, I am, I regret to say, no activist either... not quite in me to conduct riots for liberation of the repressed soul and rally for change. Yes, darn, I'm such a passive creature. How unexciting.

Okay, random rant over, back to formulating a new set of cheem arguments for my Body module.

Just read Maria's outing-suggestion email, and realised that I miss you girls a tremendous lot. Oh man, when was the last time we sat down to talk? That crazy, excited buzz of chatter when a whole bunch of girls are talking and listening to one another's stories, and laughing and laughing and laughing...

And I haven't touched the phone for how long?

Well, at least I managed to meet Shell for a couple of hours after a year(!), catch Char for the briefest of minutes on the phone, and Gill on MSN for a mutual whine in what may be defined as recently.

I wished that of all months, October wasn't the one so heavy with deadlines, that days don't pack together so quickly, and disappear in such a flash. And before you know it semester's over. *shudder*

Somehow the time to sit and linger and stone and talk aimlessly with your friends is becoming a rare, rare luxury.

Yay! Finished transcribing the interview... some stuff had to be left out because it was getting way too long, but as it is, it's already 7-and-a-half pages of talk. Not that I'm crammnig everything into my article, lar, but I thought the fuller transcript can go into Reso history, for memory's sake =) But it'll have to go through EnD's approval before it gets distributed, so don't ask from me, yet.

But anyhow. Diplomatic Q&A aside, you get rare instances of quirky answers. I like this bit...

So what do you think makes Resonance different from other groups?
(...)

E: The difference? I guess-- we’re like a bunch of friends who sing together… rather than a bunch of singers who are friends… you can hang out, and not sing, and still be Resonance…
D: Yah, like Cheryl and Derek and Jeremy in the library, and she complains about them looking at each other across the table…
*stifled laughter from interviewer*
D: … it’s like hur, this kind of… never mind…

(Oh dear... so now we know what makes Reso Reso =P)

Disclaimer: Don't worry guys, the rest of the interview is absolutely orthodox.

Just read on a friend's blog about how old she feels now, when she begins to count her growing number of nephews and nieces.

I think one of the good things about being the first kid of your generation in a big family means that (presently, at least,) with every new kid who is born, in the large extended family, I'm still addressed as jie jie *beams* Even if I'm twenty years older than them, or something.

Makes you feel younger, to have baby cousins but not (yet) nieces and nephews. On the paternal side of my family, at least. (*thoughtful* But then it also means they expect you to get married first, hmm.)

Which reminds me of a little incident last year. There was always the standard question my cousins ask at every family gathering... weddings, funerals, birthdays... "You got boyfriend already or not?"

Imagine their horror when I said no (for the third year consecutive) to Young Cousin Presently Attached to Third Boyfriend and Young Cousin with Second Girlfriend, who both thought for a while, gasped in horror, dipped their voices to a dramatic whisper "Don't tell me..."

"What?"

"Are you straight?" they demanded simultaneously.

"....... HOI!"

Am I missing something here? Sheesh. Just for the record, I am straight, thank you very much, my dears. Everything in its own time, okay?

-end random quirky anecdote-

Okay, blogging break over. Was a tad bored, yes. Back to transcribing interview and essay planning, Charm, stop poking around online for alternative distractions.

Did I mention that I love taking pictures?

I haven't updated with regards to acafest, but it's more fun to let the pictures do the talking. We've had the best batch of photographs ever this time around, I think, stylistically speaking. *grins* To match our repertoire of two-thirds angsty a cappella music, we got ourselves into black-and-red, with an additional punky touch.

(It's very frivolous to talk about costumes when the highlight of the event is sharing the same stage with groups that dip you into a blissful state of awwww-ness the minute they start to sing-- think Verve and Equi and Key Elements and Juz B -- but I am still aggravated with my excessively dark smoky blurry photographs that leaves very little to show. The photo I took of TAG was so dark that I could identify the very black photo only by memory -_-)

Anyhow. Allow me to indulge.


Sign on our dressing room door.


I still get a kick outta being identified as an artiste *beams* (Okay, somebody slap me)


SuHui and I, trigger-happy folks that we are, figured that that the girls ought to take before-and-after pictures. And in order to heighten the difference between pre-makeup and post-makeup, we decided to...uh...


... attempt to look cute first. (Oh dear.)



And now the 'after' photo...


Eh, we look like we're posing for an advert. ("The Canon Digital Powershot A324 delivers style and substance in a single shot...")

Onstage-- Reso and Equi



I'm not kidding about the smoke -_-

Kopped from Shin Ni...

Verve, dazzling as always in their rendition of Semptember.


Once offstage, we indulge again in a series of narcissistic shots...

Here's an uber cool shot, kopped from Serene =)

Equi never fails to look good :)




Oozing daoness in another advertisement-worthy shot, with a lotta posing tips from Equi. *grins* Jeans endorsement, anyone?


More coolness... I believed we are all secretly in love with the makeup. I am, at least =P Special mention to dear Miss Ong and her professional eyelining skills, especially with regards to Mr Foo...

Post-performance...

with JuzB =)

I like this picture =)

Five generations of sopranos... and counting!

As always, an event is never complete without the whole big gang of Reso-peeps =)


Will update again if time permits~

Redoing the entire html is freaking tedious.

*gazes thoughtfully at the screen*

It's not too much of an overdose of green, is it?

*utter exasperation*

I don't know whether to be annoyed or relieved that you've suddenly decided to come to life after dying for a week (how can you abandon me barely a couple of days before my presentation?!), along with a laptop that decides to persistently shut down in the SAME NIGHT, giving me quite a heart attack in the process, and now, just as I'm about to ask around for computer repair help, you decided that you could work, after all. All the frantic dismantling and putting back together didn't help, but leaving you to gather dust for a week did -_-'''

I don't knowif you'll continue to work again tomorrow, and the following days and weeks and months, but I'm glad I have you back today, at any rate. Goodness knows I need something to perk me up a little. Media writing is stressful, can? I never felt so... ill-equipped in certain qualities and skills. Oh Charm, what CAN you do in future?

Okay, okay. Calm calm. I will survive this and be alive and "kicking very well", as the expression goes =)

And by the way, how come no one's leaving ripples or tags anymore?

Da reminded me today that my birthday's coming... One month minus two days, to be exact. Realised with some surprise that I've forgotten all about it -_- The last I looked up dates in October was yesterday, when I was recording essay and assignment deadlines, and the fact that I had something special in the coming month didn't register then, either. Just goes to show how disorganised my mind has been lately, when stuff like that totally slips the mind. Hmph.

Anyhow. Had I ever made a wishlist before, on the blog? I can't remember. I am perfectly fine with anything, actually, as long as it isn't something too expensive =) You could go Happy Birthday Charm!! and give me a toothpick for all I care =P So long as I get to meet up with certain special individuals and groups of people good and proper, anything goes. Of course, if you're a practical gift-giver, a $21 group ang-pow would be nice too *grins*

I don't suppose there are any really tangible material stuff that really constitutes a want at the moment. I like personal handwritten cards though, or postcards, or letters... the longer the content the better ^_^ And I like hugs. More than enough to make my day =)

Hm, so the list remains as such until something occurs to me.. Must log off and catch up on a reading or two now...

-scribbled on the bus. part II-

Remember how people you see on TV-- actresses, idols, singers, hosts... are always somewhat related to you (your friend's cousin, your friend's friend, your grandma's friend's daughter, your cousin's friend's sister, etc...) but never quite someone you know directly?

Well, as of last Saturday, I can hereby proudly proclaim that my cousin was on TV =D Which makes me a first-degree relation ro a somebody-you-might-have-seen-onscreen=before. He didn't have much of a script, lar, but he did have plenty of screen time, alongside Channel 8 veteran artistes Rayson Tan and Chen Liping.

And he is one cute boy, I promise you... that kinda cuteness that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. They should so sign him up for advertisements, man.

So, lo and behold, my dear charming budding celebrity!























See, told you he is irresistably cute. =)

-scribbled on the bus-

Happiness is...

when you put pencil to paper, and the words come. Or perhaps this is just a nice after-effect of having a nagging worry dissipate when the clouds part and you begin to see coherence in the density of your text. *relief* After mulling over the book for days... things are falling into place, I think =) I just needed to clarify my boundaries, almost like completing the 4 sides of a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle... now you have an idea how the rest fits in.

Plus tomorrow is an almost-free day ^_^ I can wake up late and be happy. Heh heh heh...

I am quite incorrigible sometimes, I think, to allow my emotions to swing me about so. I'd like to say that it is not like me to be so... full of fluctuations, because for the longest time I had been like... well, like a quiet lake of water, undisturbed, with occassional ripples upon the surface. Good and bad, of course. Good because I'm calm enough not to be too affected, or overwhelmed. Bad because I was afraid I'd turn into some stone-cold unfeeling creature who cannot empathise.

So the occassional irrational anger, peevishness, rebellious silences, unreasonable whinings, aching wistfulness, stressed-up hustle-bustle, disappointment in disillusions... are not quite so bad after all, because they make happiness happier, freedom freer, and people more precious than ever. Thank goodness, I think, Charm is human and alive and warm enough to feel.

So, updates. I like my modules this sem =) Film is fun, Science of Music is interesting (with six other reso members making 8am lectures a lot more bearable =P). The Body is intriguing, Feminism is comprehensive, and Media Writing is an eye-opener. Will so recommend any one of them if you ask =)

Acafest is this Friday and Saturday. You can still get your tickets at ticketcharge.com.sg! It clashes with Consonance concert one of the days, though =( But there is still the Friday slot, and I will so *heart* you guys if you'll come. Oh, and I'm performing ^_^

Till the next update~

Okay, I am writing again. Not grudgingly as I had, for a while, and no short curt sentences, clipped and to the point (for now, anyhow). Writing reminds me that I feel, because it is a simultaneous thing, to blog and to feel. I will just have to remind myself of existing limits. How much to write, how much to think, and how much to feel. It is very odd, to pack intangible things into neat little packages, put up a little fence round them, and say, stay there, don't move. If you do it frequently enough, perhaps your mind becomes something like a zoo-- many many rows of barred-up enclosures, neatly parted into rows, pretty and presentable and open to public exhibition. You'd know exactly where you put your stuff, what you think, how you feel, and so does everybody else. Otherwise they can read the neat little explanatory tags at the corner of your enclosures, and be immediately enlightened.

It would be quite uncomplicated, and no one will ever complain how hard it is to understand people anymore.

Do you like to go to the zoo? I used to love it, as a kid, to skip up and down neatly paved tracks, staring wide-eyed at the prowling animals, taking the monorail with the loudspeakers introducing the various attractions you see. But then the novelty wears off after a while. It's exciting to visit it once in blue moon, but even then we have tired, bored adults going "but why on earth do you want to visit the zoo again? haven't you already seen it all?"

You probably didn't understand them, these cynical adults who never enjoyed going to the zoo (they have no concept of fun, you think) but then as you grow older you begin to see some sense in the pointlessness of seeing things boxed in and compartmentalised (like the rest of your life). Living, breathing creatures, no less, and now you perceive how boring it must be for these mobile creatures ("wildlife"! oh, the irony) born into captivity.

Hmm. I think I digressed. But no matter. Fluidity is a luxury you must allow for once in a while, if only to allow yourself revel temporarily in the wisp of freedom, where you aren't pressed to explain exactly what you mean before you yourself had the grasp of what is going on yet. Where is the beauty in that? What stems from intuition and feeling degenerates into something practical, structured, trivialised, when you ask what, why, how come, and so?, therefore?, break them down into little pieces with analysis and then form a diplomatic conclusion, and decide that you have known all that there is to it.

But we do that all the time anyhow. It's integrated the very manner in which we learn. How nice it would be, to play the role of the writer once in a while, being vague, subverting expectations, rejecting binaries, leaving the ending open, unresolved, and then quirk an eyebrow at your readers and say, interpret it how you wish. And leave the feverish critiques breaking down your every word to attempt to deliver structured, wordy, confused cheem theories for the students to dissect. Blow your story out of proportions, perhaps, and draw deep inferences and deconstruct and flip it all around in a myraid of difficult four-syllable terms, so that your simplest character becomes a complicated, conflicted being, a stereotypical representation of the human condition, perhaps... But still you will write, because there will be precious few people in this world who will read your story as it is, appreciate the nuances, perhaps even nod with understanding at places where language fails to suffice.

(But the irony! This, coming from a lit student who has to analyse and dissect and structure arguments to explain so many, many stories... *groans*)

How silly things are sometimes.

Ah well. Whatever works. At least *glances at the rest of the entry* at least the writing is back, now =)

I'm performing! Come, okay?

Wah lao. I'm am already writing so little, and using so much energy to write little, and blogger still manages to lose the entry for me. So much for therapy in words. ARGH.

I miss the phone. I need a proper long phone conversation, and a good waillllllll. Maybe that might help.

I like long train trips home with a friend you can chatter on and on and on about loadsa stuff you can identify with. Puts me in quite a cheery mood =D Last night's brief dinner out at Kovan with a precious ol' friend lifted my spirits remarkably too. Thank goodness for little moments like that.

Wonder if a nice long phonecall to round up the week might be a tad too luxurious, though. Couple of weeks have been unexpectedly trying, but if I had survived the last few months all right, then the last few weeks shouldn't be much.

Just need to have the darned sleeping hours in place, and get the readings and assignments done on schedule, and not walk around feeling excessively sleepy all day. Sleepy is not good, because it makes me feel half drunk, like the world is still fuzzy, and my mind is caught somewhere between consciousness and subconsciousness.

Aiyo Charm. Go and sleep lar.

I'm not being cryptic, really. I am all right as far as definitions go, and I don't find it sensible to blog feelingly, for now anyhow. Musing aloud, deep thoughts, feeling, stuff like that, drain a lot a lot a lot of energy. I wrote a day ago, pencil to paper, a long entry, and was exhausted, and was out like a light for the next two hours, in a slumber so deep that it was difficult to awaken. (And as the rule goes, whatever goes into the offline diary is not repeated online, is not repeated verbally unless I choose to do so. Which means nobody asks.)

I suppose if you don't feel in your writing then there is not cartharsis. Which kinda misses the point altogether. When you tap the keyboard and find no cartharsis, then.. what difference is there from writing a report, minus the stress of a deadline? But then I suppose one can always be merely informative, which is good practice for journalism. Weeding out the subjective thoughts.

Teacher's Day today, and something tugs at me to launch into some long-winded nostalgic entry of people who matter so, who'd made you matter so... But not here, not now. An SMS straight to them will do.

I'm all right. Of course I'm all right.

I have decided that it is not wise to write too much, venture too deeply within the self, muse about stuff that gets you. Descriptive narratives chronicling situations, yes. Random memes, yes. But not feelings, not feelings, not feelings.

Not here.

Hence.

How glad I am for a promise that means a whole, whole lot.

And how glad I am for one whom I can trust.

"BELIEF is the theme for Singapore's first visual arts biennale. If today's world has painfully called into question many certainties governing society, history and humankind, can it also be described as an era of uncertainty in which the very subject of belief is in question? In the context of this so-called crisis of values, what do we individually and collectively believe in? Do we act on our beliefs or is belief simply a mindless act? Are the religious beliefs communicated by the great faiths more relevant than the secular beliefs in science, progress, democracy and politics that succeeded them? Or has the conflict between the two spawned such states of violent and ethical extremism in the service of religious and economic power that belief in anything appears incomprehensible? Are we beyond belief or at the threshold of its revival?"

from Singapore Biennale 2006.

Am intrigued.

Second day of school, and I am gathering my stamina to embrace the life it offers now. The first week of school is often one of the best times of the semester, the introductory lectures and settling in before the rush, the long stretches of hours you get to spend with your friends, a lunch here, a breakfast there, perhaps an hour or two to stone away.

Stoning without an accompanying worry is a luxury, and ought to be treasured as such for now. How much time do we have? we look at our watches and calendars and think. In days, in weeks, then in months and years... How much time is it to the next class, the next event, to the next phase of our lives? How much time do we have left together, how much time do we take to forget thereafter? And we sit thinking of the future, of the million of next-times, lamenting the loss of the last-times, and the present slips through quietly between our fingers, unnoticed, unrelished for the simple, beautiful now-ness that is.

I love cool rainy days, the brush of wind against your face, the smell of a freshly-showered nature in the air. I love the glimpses of familiar people in the corridors and the comforting presence of friends. I love the slower, milder pace in the second day of school, where people are still able to pause, and walk slowly, and talk, and afford to while time away.

So it is not so bad after all, this briefest moment of breathing space =) Perhaps it's also got to do with yesterday's migraine loosening its hold, for the throbbing pain makes things bleaker, heightens your sensivity to light, to sound, and leaves no shield from negativity... so very tired are you from all the nonsense you had to deal with, that you are furious with the world, and the sanity that struggles to hold down your temper and your potentially reckless tongue leaves you exhausted by the close of the day. Thank goodness for the sanity, anyhow.

Started on the opening pages of Coetzee's Age of Iron, and had the pleasant sensation of losing myself in this extended love letter from a mother to a daughter, the fluidity that draws you into the text and makes you feel the relaxing sensation of sinking yourself into cool soothing waters, where the outside-world sounds become muffled, and the text, for the while, becomes your reality.

"With what slow steps did I enter this empty house, from which every echo has faded, where the very tread of footsole on board is flat and dull! How I longed for you to be here, to hold me, to comfort me! I begin to understand the true meaning of embrace. We embrace to be embraced. We embrace our children to be folded in the arms of the future, to pass ourselves on beyond death, to be transported......

To live! You are my life; I love you as I love life itself... The first task laid on me, from today: to resist the craving to share my death. Loving you, loving life, to forgive the living and take my leave without bitterness. To embrace death as my own, mine alone.

To whom this writing then? The answer: to you but not to you; to me; to you in me."

-Coetzee, Age of Iron


It's achingly beautiful, the writing, the heart in the words.

Perhaps how much time doesn't matter so much after all, so long as we love every present moment we hold in our hands =)




PS I got my media-writing module! For (only) 402 points! (as compared to the hideous 2450 points in round 2A) It's quite a delightful surprise, cos I'd given it up as a gone case until I chanced upon it yesterday... Really chanced... I wouldn't have time to even try if Jiayan hadn't had her laptop open to monitor her own bids when I met her at the forum, heh... *beams* I'm happy happy!

School's starting soon. I haven't vaccuumed the gathering dust around my CPU and packed my table and wiped everything clean and pre-read a couple more books. I haven't discussed and planned with the other two girls, good and proper, the 21st bday celebration for a friend. I'm sorry for last-minute rubbish, and not picking up the pieces quickly enough. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm a disgusting multi-tasker, and I had thrown in my attention for one thing at the expense of a lot of other things, and I didn't realise. Till now. Insensitive git, you silly girl... Can you please draw yourself out a little and pay attention to what else is going on with other people who mean something to you too?

I'm still learning from everyone what it takes to be a decent person. I still forget, I still mess things up, I still get things wrong, but I'm trying to communicate now, and I'm sorry for all the times I have waited for things to happen, and I will will will learn to be better, however I could.

Opportunity costs will have to be balanced to fairness. *apprehensive* I don't know what I got myself in, having pushed for the next big event to continue with such gusto, based only on instincts and certain upheld values, but I must remember never to leave other stuff out as sacrifices anymore. Not family, not friends, not schoolwork, not passion, not sanity. Balance balance balance Charm, okay?

了了六分之五的一件心事。。 我想，也算不错了吧。
Yay! 睡觉！

School's reopening soon.

Good.

I shall start reading again. More worlds to journey, more stuff to think about, more things to analyse, break down carefully, weigh, flip around, muse over, ponder, revel in, discover, come to a realisation... Soak in hair-raising experiences that you can relate to, but need not live through... So that by the end of each book you finish and put down, you feel a sense of loss, but this loss does not build up-- it fades away with time. And life moves on, in its parellel plane. And you move along with it.

Was digging through old CDs yesterday, and found an old Mavis Hee album yesterday. Good. Shall spin it on repeat and indulge in angsty Chinese songs, with their alluring, almost intoxicating tunes... And then perhaps some introspective Chy'i songs.

天上地星星
为何
像人群一般地拥挤呢？
地上地人们为何
又像星星一样地疏远？
hey-ey-ey... hey-ey-ey...

I like the tribal-ish twist to some of her songs. All Soul's Night is another one that I like, echoey and surreal and haunting, like a wind crying through the trees and bonfires roaring...

There is something I need to remember, and until I remember what it is that I have forgotten, I shall keep seeking for a reminder. And keep firmly in mind the lit student's mantra of expectations-vs-relity, expectations-vs-reality.

Speaking of which, Under the Skin is quite, quite provocative. To the point where I was feeling a tad nauseated, and for a while all kinds of meat didn't seem remotely appetizing anymore. What a world... and what a way to process human beings... *shudder* If I have enough of these kinda books I can go on a voluntary diet.

We've got Dracula next sem! All hail the charismatic vampire who doesn't talk much(!) as opposed to the bunch of whiny men sent to stake it down, and spend hundreds of pages just talking, and talking, and talking. RAWR. Do something already, you twits.

Er-hm. Dinner now. More entries later~

I am peeved with people who hike up points to the thousands on the first day of bidding. GRAH! Media writing is no longer possible this sem (excuse me, 2450 points minimum?), and emotions and social life is going at an impressive 900+. I'm programally-point-poor, so there it goes too. Social variations in English for now. EL mods are nice in a way that they have enough vacancies for a decent, non-heart-attack-inducing 1-point modules =)

That said, I just hopped over from Eme's blog (you just reminded me of Winter Light! Love that song... Now I'm full of good feeling just thinking about the times we sang it for you guys ^^) It's a hauntingly beautiful song, so sweet, so sad, so ethereal...

Heart's call,
Heart's fall,
Swallowed in the rain
Who knows,
Life grows,
Hollow and so vain

Wandering in the winter light
The wicked and the sane
Bear witness to salvation
And life starts over again

Now the clear sky is all around you
haaaah... oohh...
Love shadows will surround you
All through the night
Stars glowing in the twilight
Tell me true
Hope whispers and I will follow
Till you... love me... too

Makes me think of long, long stretches of cold, cold plains, the rain that sweeps through, pouring, pouring... The glitter of a light, the clearing of the skies, and the tiny flare of hope. Hope, no matter how lonely, how lost, how cold... Hope, and lingering love, in the darkest of nights where the stars will still shine...

So all is not lost.

Found Linda Ronstadt's Blue Bayou too. Another favourite. As are Enya's May It Be and The Hunchback of Notre Dame's Someday and Out There and Charlotte Church's The Prayer and Anastasia's Journey to the Past and Chyi's Whoever Finds This, I Love You.

Yes, Charm's wholly uncontemporary song favourites... I like songs that tell stories, and calm you, somehow. Radio hits are for running with, with their thump-thump-thumping, but even those didn't sustain me long enough, and I had to yank off the earphones to listen out for the evening bustle,the playground laughter, the car-washing and the rustling of the wind in the trees...

*freezes in sudden realisation* oh crap! I've got songs to learn for tonight! Another "head-thumping-rock-number" by Amanda *grins* and the piece-to-teach-for-auditions... Aiyeee...

Okay, must leave off luxuriating in the soothing dreamy hopeful pieces and come back to reality, Charm. Till the next entry =)

Tagged by Derek... So here's mine!

7 random things about me
1. I don't have a favourite colour, because I like the world in all its colours, and wouldn't have done without any one.
2. I don't like shopping in general, unless there is something to shop for, and unless the company is right :)
3. I express my thoughts better in writing than in speech
4. For some reason or other, I usually click well with December babies
5. I am a(n) (incorrigible) uni student who still reads newspapers only on Sundays and public holidays.
6. Yellow flowers make me happy :)
7. I'm a hopeless idealist on good days.

7 things that scare me
1. people. it's difficult to reconcile the idea that deep down, every being is good-natured and genuinely nice, yet they hold the greatest potential in acts of destruction, big or small
2. whatever threatens the well-being of my family and friends
3. inability to connect with people who matter
4. not living up to what I've been blessed with
5. singing solo. yes, I know -_- okok, I'll work on that, I promise...
6. not knowing what to say at crucial moments
7. ... can't think of anything else for now...

7 random music of the moment
1. Arms around the world. Love the song =)
2. Out There (from the Hunchback of Notre Dame)
3. Winter Light
4. Whoever finds this, I love you
5. 遇见
6. 家
7. Feeling Groovy

7 things i love the most
1. my family and friends. well okay, they're not exactly things, but I love them anyway :)
2. singing
3. writing
4. spending time talking and laughing with friends
5. home
6. the breeze that runs rustling through the trees and blows in your face, cool, welcoming and uplifting
7. swings

7 things i always say
1. Huh?
2. weiiiii...!
3. it's okay, you know
4. but...! but but but...! *trails off*
5. *disturbed frown* okaaay...
6. hmmm. *head inclined, eyebrows knitted* maybe lor.
7. eh... *sheepishly* i'm not so sure about that...

I tag anyone who is free enough to do this =)

Dug up this article from the Straits Times, written way back in 2003. It's really beautifully written, and oh, how true, indeed...

Friendship, A moving article by Sumiko Tan: Straits Times - Too old to make new friends?

>SUNNY, one of my dearest friends at work, will leave The Straits Times next month for greener pastures. He is not my first friend from the office to say goodbye. Over the years, there have been a handful of colleagues who became friends. In recent times, at least three others have also left. When Sunny told me that he was leaving, I moaned: 'With you gone, I will have hardly any friends left in the office!'Which set me thinking: At what point does an acquaintance or colleague become a friend? And, to take a step back, what is this concept called 'friendship' anyway? Indeed, what makes you click with one person and form a friendship with him, but not some other? If a friend is defined as someone I feel completely comfortable calling up at 3 am to bail me out of trouble - and Sunny will do so - then, alas, I don't have that many friends. Other than family members, I can count on just one female friend and three, at best four, male friends. But then, maybe that's plenty. As someone once said, one friend in a lifetime is much, two are many, three are hardly possible.


>FRIENDSHIPS are different from relationships - and thank goodness for that. You can be great chums with your partner, of course, but a relationship is so much more complex. It is not only about that enrapturing feeling called love, but - if you are unlucky - also a host of murky emotions like jealousy, resentment, anger, pain and despair. Friendship is simpler and fills you, mostly, with harmless Type B emotions - kindliness, fondness, warmth and cordiality. With a lover, you make demands and have expectations. But with a friend, you're cool. You don't really owe him anything, or have to explain much, because, ultimately, you demand nothing more from each other than pleasant company and an occasional listening ear. Love, I read somewhere, is blind, but friendship closes its eyes. How true.


>THE older I get, the more I value friends. Yet, ironically, I find that it is now not only harder for me to maintain old friendships, but also to form new ones. When I was in school, friendships came naturally. My friends and I moved in a pack - we ate, studied, gossiped and partied together. We exchanged secrets and gifts, sent cards and gave treats. Our friendships were firm, and sweet.Coming from an all-girls school, I didn't get to make male friends until I was in junior college. Initial shyness aside, I found that it was possible to have a platonic relationship with a guy, and that they made equally good friends. By the time I went to university, I was already attached, and had little time to make new friends, male or female. Then came working life. Through sheer proximity and the amount of time spent together, it was inevitable that some colleagues became more than co workers. What is it that allows you to become friends with some people, and not others? Shared experience is one requisite, and the sharper it is, the better. For Sunny and I, it was our years spent pounding the same beat, politics. That X factor called 'chemistry' is another, and I suppose this explains how you can be firm friends with people who are very different from you.


>THE saddest thing about friendship is that it can die. It doesn't come with a lifelong guarantee. Distance is one killer. Unless you are diligent in keeping in touch with a friend, being far away can drive a wedge in your relationship. Changes in circumstance is another. It has been said that a friend in power is a friend lost, and I have found this to be true. When a friend moves up in life, he will become too busy for you, while you don't want to risk rejection by trying to keep in contact with him. Marriages have also caused friendships to fade as your spouse might not take to your friends. Then there are friendships that die because they have simply run their course. I had a close female friend whom I had known since we were both 17. About four years back, after 16 years of keeping in touch through the mail, long hours on the phone and giggly lunches, our friendship died. Just like that. There was no quarrel, no disagreement, no underlying unhappiness or animosity or hurts. The plug was just pulled. The last time we saw each other was at lunch - in fact, it was to celebrate her birthday. We were our usual loud selves. After the meal, we gave our usual hug, said our usual cheery goodbyes and made our usual promise to meet again. We didn't call each other for weeks (which was normal, as we were both busy), then months (which began to feel a bit strange, but nothing to be alarmed about), then, yes, years (by then, it was too late to resuscitate the friendship). We did talk once, last year, when my father died and she called. I was grateful to hear from her and I know it took a lot for her to pick up the phone after so many years. I wish nothing but the best for her, and am always glad to hear from mutual friends that she is well. Yet, I know that if we were to bump into each other today, it would feel awkward.


>IF I value friendship so much, why don't I just go forth and make more friends?It is easier said than done. People my age and older are busy with careers and family. I have fewer things in common with those younger. But the fault is mine. At my age, I lack the energy and enthusiasm. Starting and maintaining a friendship might be far less arduous than a relationship, but it still requires effort.Do I have the strength for that on top of the other demands in my life? So, next month, I say goodbye to Sunny and I am left with one friend fewer at work. British writer Virginia Woolf once said: 'I have lost friends, some by death - others by sheer inability to cross the street.' Should I spot Sunny - and my few remaining friends - on the street, I trust I can muster the energy to walk up to them and say 'hi'. For, really, that is all it takes to keep a friendship alive. The greatest regrets in our lives are the risks we did not take. If you think something will make you happy, go for it. Remember that we pass this way only once. "The hardest part in loving a person from a distance is not being able to hold her hand and embrace her tight and tell her how much you love her - because you are only a friend."

Change of plans--didn't go out after all... So this marks one extra Charm-Stays-At-Home-Day. Applause applause, quick =D Okay lar, tomorrow got matric fair, and Thursday got lunch-date-with-OOPs, and Saturday with Yish and Gill, so this week is packed anyhow. I hope the booklist and books are out by then, so maybe I could begin reading. And don't glare at me like I'm nuts okay, you don't have six books per module that averages to two books per week that are *hovers hand over table* THIS thick on top of your assignments... This is only the minutest precaution to prevent insanity from setting in during mid-sem rush.

If I take The Body, I will complete a grand total of 4 exams in 3 days. DON'T ask me why the timetable turned out like that. At least it's 2 papers -one day break- 2 papers, rather than 2 papers-1 paper-1 paper consecutive if I took Women Novelists, which I would have gladly taken had it not been the exam issue. Hmph.

To digress a little... Eh, why Irish Poetry so high in demand this year? Little vacancies, min bid point going at 900+... in round 1A only, no less! Goodness. Methinks perhaps Charmaine should learn to be more passionate about poetry, like the high-bidding lit majors around her.

The Body looks set to go at one point *gleeful* Thank goodness for the pre-allocation system they adopted this sem! Now to focus on Media Writing and Science of Music =D

Now that I'm done rambling about modules, for now at least...

We had a half hour gig at Esplanade yesterday =) Complete with dressing rooms and backstage passes with our names on it =D No pics today cos I forgot to bring my cam down, shall kop from Meisi =) Think Cheryl was the only one who's high for the performance, though... Derek and Jeremy were so tired! and Wai Lun Amanda and I were more nervous than usual, I thought... Pitchy shifts and little snags aside, it wasn't too terrible lar, I guess... Had quite a decent crowd of audience :)

Note to self for all future performances: Must not radiate "CRAP! I DID SOMETHING WRONG!!!" vibes in such a blatently obvious manner.

Be back again with more entries soon =D

Am having a headache choosing between The Body: Politics, Poetics, Perception and American Literature II. The former is known to be interesting but dense, the latter is attractive because of its no-exam and no-essay format, and having a buddy who's keen on taking it too, and the fact that it focuses on comedic prose.

But the module description for American Lit 2 reminds me so much of 20th Century, for which I had a miserable time taking, and the only one title that I recognised-- Catch-22--is no easy read, although its wicked black humour is totally hilarious, in a bleak kinda way. War story, from what I vaguely remember, with characters who use the craziest, most ridiculous attitudes to deal with their life as a soldier. (Um, didn't finish reading it last time in JC) It's that kinda read that makes you laugh, and then feel depressed about the human condition afterward. Powerful in its way.

And American history...! I'm not so fond of history, to tell the truth, and neither am I familiar with American texts as a whole, having done nearly all Brit texts the last couple of sems, although if American films are anything to judge by, in comparison to Brit films, they're a lot more... colourful, and may promise to be more interesting...

The Body... a "tough, dense, but ve-ry interesting module!" is what I gathered from feedback... I forsee The Body would offer a lot to think about, lots of interesting abstract stuff that kinda reminds me of sci-fi's style of teaching, that is concerned with your reaction as a reader towards your texts, I guess, and I'm drawn to that, dead cheem as it sounds...

"The module explores the connectivity between body and mind in the act of reading. It challenges the perception that interpretation is a disembodied and purely intellectual activity. The module is designed to make students acutely aware of the body’s role in reading, partly to remind them of the fundamental role of the senses in one’s approach to art, but also to get them to see how they are implicated in issues that are raised through the body’s representation in politically and ethically complex situations in texts. The module aims to give students, via narrative and meta-narrative considerations, a new articulated sense of themselves as bodied beings and what that entails."

Funky, right =P Would feel a lot more comfortable if I have someone taking it with me, though, so that in times of utter cheemness there may be people to wail with me, haha...

Darn, I need to learn to make friends. *pause* Okay, this statement sounds weird, considering this is year 3, and I ought to have known enough people to go around... WHY are the rest of the people I know taking Irish poetry? I love the lecturer, he's super intriguing and thought-provoking in his style of teaching, but I am very wary of Irish lit, courtesy of bad experience with 20th Century (again). And me, horrible student that I am, am still scared of doing poetry with no prose to fall back on.

Flipped a coin last night, and was aggravated when American Lit turned up three times in a row. *laughs* Silly human traits of wanting chance to tell you what you want to know, then get agitated that it doesn't. So I tried flipping some more, and The Body turned up a few consecutive times. Decided it was not helpful and abandoned the idea. Alicia mentioned that chance drives sane and insane people nuts, and her comment kinda struck a chord-- how true, indeed... so yes, I shall decide myself, between practicalities like timetables and lecturers and exam schedules and usefulness and ease of scoring... and pure interest (which kinda goes a longer way than the rest, because if I had wanted to be practical to begin with, I should have accepted my NTU communications studies offer long ago... which is a darn scary thought because there wouldn't have been all this people I've known, and the exhilaration of studying lit, and Reso, which makes up the other half my NUS life... but I digress...)

*thoughtful*

Shall bid for the modules anyhow. Gotta rush out to meet the girls now. Oh no, I'm trangressing all my curfews and should-not-dos. *exasperated* Too many long days out. Must make it home early and attempt to avoid the tirade of "will-it-kill-you-to-stay-at-home-for-a-day" and other less mild jabs at the conscience.

Till the next time~