hello everybody...

'tis but a momentary respite before i enter madness again come Sunday...

ah... my first impressions of the island...

honestly... it is a place of immense natural beauty... if one can only... with herculean effort... look past the fact that the entire island is one big military installation...

nature can be seen in her utmost beauty...

there are still birds that fly to roost in spectacular flocks there... there are stars that aren't obscured by too much light...

and the view of the ocean...

it is at once bittersweet... assuring... as well as wistful...

my first few days there were rather forgettable... not so much due to the nature of the activities... but rather due to the sheer overload and assault upon my senses...

i don't mean any of this in a negative sense... to a person well accustomed to military life... to one who approves of it even... this would all be expected... even welcome...

but to the virgin soldier... the entire exercise is rather overwhelming... the sudden and undignified shedding of identity...

and on an offbeat note... my hair too...

but anyways...it does take some time to get accustomed to being "standardized"...
rather a key word in the military i should say...

everything's the same... faces tanned to the same shade... eyes shifted the same direction... hands pointing the same way... voices echoing the same words...

how devoid of humanity...

moving on....

within the first day... everyone's issued two metal discs... one oval and one circular...
within the first week... everyone learns to tie these tags onto a string...
in times of war... they constitute the entirety of your identity...
if you die... one goes into your mouth...
the other goes to your family...

without doubt... i was familiar with the procedure... i think Hollywood has put in ample effort into publicizing this practice...
but to actually hold those two discs that might one day be the only remnants of an entire life wasted in war...

the utter indignancy and inadequacy of it all...

on handling a rifle...

the standard issue rifle is a marvel of technology and engineering... without any other source of energy other than that compacted in the round and your index finger... there's enough force to injure, maim, and of course kill...

there are at least a dozen steps involved in checking that the weapon is clear of rounds... all that just to avoid misfiring...

and undoubtedly... there will be even more steps and procedures to adhere to once live firing starts...

i've got a better suggestion to avoid all this...

don't use it...

the only arms we should bear upon our consciences are those that we were born with...
to serve, heal, and shield...

the most emotional... the most thoroughly felt breath of relief...
the feeling of absolution...
the literal unburdening of burdens...
all that i felt when i sent my arms back into the stores at the end of the day...

hello people...

i'm ok don't worry...

what i wrote in the last post... well...
was an exaggeration...
haha...

i do feel wistful that i have to leave some stuff behind... but i'm fine with it...
so there...

now for what i really meant to say... when i am away... and all you people miss my charming wit and celebrated wisdom... when you seek my words and find nothing there...

oh yes i know i'm such a celebrity...

my words of wisdom...
for my readers as well as myself...
for all times...

this too shall pass...

omg that was bad it sounds so corny...

but oh well i'm too lazy to get that away...

well i'll be off then... i still have some packing to do...

hello everybody...

i spent the good part of today packing up my room... clearing up stuff...
stuff all the way from primary school... old secondary school uniforms...

my grandma had said a few days back that any old stuff we had we could give to her... and she would donate it to some recycling people... and so i tied my stuff up into bundles...
unceremoniously at that... using raffia...

and then it hit me... about the easiest stuff to throw away...
toys you've outgrown... since they no longer mean much... they don't even bring back much memories... theey just sit forgotten... a tad bit sad...
those many excercise books and notepads that lie empty and unused... yes i know that school bookshops always urge people to buy more... heck... i can even memorise the entire spiel... but such empty and useless books are paler... both literally and metaphorically... far paler than those books etched... sometimes... in legacy of the sheer effort put in...

but some stuff you don't throw so easily...

it's a rather pathetic end to two years of toil to tie up all those essays... Fs to As no less... into bundles a la for rag-and-bone man collection...

so why... you ask... did i throw them away...?

well... what i want to keep is the effort that i put in... unfortunately that's not something you can shove into a drawer and take it out to admire from time to time...
that lives on... and could even die... in your mind and heart...
the stuff that i've written... stuff that at times have been proof of my superior command of the language...

in those papers and essays i seldom wrote what i truly believed in...

i believe in the intrinsic good of man... but it was the essay that argued otherwise that got me my A...
the soul of a nation cannot be truly reflected in the nature of its architecture... i believed in that... but...

this proves a point...
humanity's perceived strength in logic... one that may distinguish us from animals... seems to be deeply inadequate in the face of our other... and i believe... stronger... strength...

compassion...

but it seems that arguing this point always fails... after all arguing in what i believe in...
well...

i was practising on the flute again... the day before i think it was... and i was packing up my stuff...
flipping through the old scores... putting away the scores...

looking at a rather faithful score... or should i say i've been faithful to it...
it has after all been rather a permanent fixture in my file for two years now...

i held the file and felt like crying...

i wanted to write long... write much... dedicate words to this...

but it seems now i can't find my voice...

i have one thing to say about the show i caught today...

everybody...
Everybody...
EVERYBODY...
EVERYBODY...
EVERYBODY...

will go and watch The Incredibles...

'nuff said...

hello there...

i was thinking something was left undone here... something i simply forgot...
and then i realised...

wishlist!
ok here goes...

1) have fun in survive army (i realised the former's pretty idiotic yar...? kinda like an oxymoron...)

2) nice stuff to wear... that preferably goes with a buzzcut... ie. draw attention away from hair and make me look
like those Hollywood people who're going bald but lop everything off and call it fashion...
2a) more jeans...
2b) nice shirts... bossini... giodarno... U2... British India...
2c) shoes for all occasions...
2d) hat/cap/anything-to-cover-my head if 4) is unattainable...

3) i tell you what ah... money... then i go get all that myself...

4) a buzzcut that won't make my head look like a bad case of fungal infestation...

5) new flute... ok wait... better flute... Yamaha 500 - 600 series...? ooh... Miyazawa/Sankyo...?

6) driving lessons...

7) well since i'm at it... car...

8) oh what the heck... house...

9) great good results... (let's not get too smart for our own good here shall we...)

10) promising career prospects...

11) a job that i like...
11a) preferably nothing to do with numbers...
11b) preferably to do with music...
11c) teaching is acceptable...
11d) but not in primary school ie. no bratty 6 - 12 year olds...

12) that the army will actually endow me with a hot bod... woot...

13) that 12) will not be achieved at the cost of my mental capacities...

note to Santa: i've been a dear good boy this whole year... don't listen to the stuff people say...
they're fibbers and should not get their prezzies... at all...

note to everybody else: please... no matter what you do... coordinate...

having fifteen of the same thing... no matter how nice... is not exactly... uh... great...

so i expect a huge pile of prezzies at my doorstep when i come back...

haha yar right whatever...

oh look at what i got at quizilla...
drumroll please...


YOU ARE CHAMOMILE

What Herb Are You?
Brought to you by Quizilla

eew... and i'm not even that crazy about chamomile...

whatever...

thus ends the cheap thrill that lasted for about three seconds...

well it seems like i'll be home for Christmas after all...
apparently the can't keep me in there over a public holiday...
whee...

nothing much else then...

have fun everybody...

ok shoo now...

bye...

that's all for now...

yes i'm just randomly typing stuff to fill up space...

hello...

hmm...
should i blog today...?

i just received a notice from the army...

i'll be out on the third weekend...
which means... depending on whether you count the weekend i go in as the first or not...
i'll be home for Christmas... or not...

how romantic... the son's away in the barracks over the holidays... and papa will silently hang a stocking over the fireplace for one son missing over the holidays...
and mama will set at the table a place that won't be filled... and say a prayer under her breath before papa carves the turkey...
and the little sister will draw a picture of her brother with a rifle and mama will put it up on the fridge...

yar whatever...
wrong life...

i should not stay home for too long should i...?
i start listening to my songs... and then i sing along...
and it's all fine and peachy till i come to the likes of Mariah Carey... Fantasia Barrino... Luther Vandross...
Rick Price...

ouch my throat...

it's disgusting... i caught myself... twice now...
talking to myself... out loud at that... telling myself to stop singing before i really lost my voice...

damn...

so i sing loud enough... it's beautiful of course... the neighbours must be wondering where's that great voice from...
then they hear me talking to myself...

thank you...
i'm either the resident loony or noisemaker...
oh did i say noise...?
haha...
i meant music... of course...

woot!

my IE's back up...
somehow all that spyware and malware and pesky stuff just vanished overnight...

lovely innit...?

haha...

everybody go listen to Mariah Carey's Through The Rain...
ok fine i'm sorry if i'm a little late...

but it is really very good...

anyways...

this was what followed after my grad nite... cos some people were asking...

so we went to KBox at Cineleisure... and sang till three...
no actually we were sort of singing half songs... got bored and skipped to the next one...
and so on so forth...

yes fine... short attention spans...

so anyway we left at three... sat at Coffee Club till four... and decided to walk to Singapore River...
thank you...

so we did...

and we reached at about five-thirty... and i took a cab back... and got home near six...

there...

no i'm not a party animal...
kinda obvious yar...?

in fact all i'm looking forward to now is a week of non-action... stasis...
oh Plath would so despise me...

but never mind that now...

hello...

i went for grad nite last night...
i cleared my books and notes... my table the day before...
and i'll probably be clearing the rest of my room in the next few days...

somehow i thought the feeling would be kinda different...

two weeks of clearing seems like a grossly inadequate finale to two years of blood and sweat...

and if i may say... an equally weird start to the next two years... of more sweat...

it's not supposed to work like this... i say it's all the fault of the mass media...
the end of adolescence... and the start of adulthood... is...
well... seriously overrated...
too many movies telling us that there's some magic going on when we turn eighteen and finish school... and we all start looking for magic in the air once the academics come to a close...

a sputter-and-die-close not a big-whoom-bang-close at that...

and the magic... pfft...

let's not even talk sputter...

so yes as i was saying... it was ather an anticlimax...
the night out after grad nite was fun... really...

but the night itself...

i don't really think it delivered on what it stood for...

maybe that's cos it don't stand for anything no more...
kinda sad yar... but it's also kinda true that life in general is getting to become more and more parochial... boring... everyday...

maybe it's not that the magic's lost and gone...

maybe it's just a turning eighteen thing...

maybe over years and years of this bee drone society's breeding and conditioning... we all have an inbuilt genetic switch labelled "Conformist And Boring"...
and in small captions below it... "Flick When Eighteen"...

thus the obsession with normalcy and conformism...
taking out earstuds...
dyeing hair back from right pink to copper to brown... and back to black...

and before we know it we'll all be tattoos-are-for-gangsters... long-haired-guys-are-failure-hippie-wannabes...
bright-dyed-hair's-for-school-dropouts...

so for all those who have had the inclination to something dastardly... whether to make a statement or just to freak your parents into way early retirement... but felt that little twinge in the back of your mind... that white-collar voice beginning to take root...

tell it to shove it...

in the mean time i'm gonna see if a goatee would suit me fine in my post NS years...
heh...

i was just surfing around and i chanced upon this blog...

Citizen Frank

it's by a soldier serving the American army in Iraq...

not exceptionally well-written, but well felt...
at times humourous... other times poignant... truthful...
not what i would call literary, not an example of critical social commentary...
but above all... human...

"...trying to decide what you take with you to war for a year, and what to leave behind."

warning though... the site is immensely huge... so it might be a wait for it to load...
and the guy does talk at times with a touch of overdone patriotism...

but still...
i could cry...

and no i didn't...

hello...

firstly... something i've wanted to do for the last few posts but have incessantly forgotten... tsk...
so before i forget...
does anybody have Christopher Pike's Last Vampire series...?
books four to six...?
somebody has to have it...

and don't even start telling me about Lestat...
he can... wait...

so if any kindhearted soul has these books... or...
just passing a comment here... no need to take any notice... there's a lovely two volume collector's edition of it...
but never mind...
take no notice...
none at all...

you can buy just the second volume...
i don't mind...

anyways...

hmm...

nothing much around nowadays... just a performance last night...
birthday party...

more gigs maybe...?
grad nite's on wednesday... let's hope i won't be a fashion disaster...
prepare stuff that can last through any natural disaster for Tekong...
make new plastic specs that can last through a nuclear disaster...
go through army and build up enough cash reserves to avert any financial disaster... woot!

the prospect of people actually paying me to stay on a barbarous island for months on end doesn't seem so bad... with the hardly-decent, unappetising, undesirable tasks... good-tasting, yet somehow-questionable food...
i'm gonna be a star... it's just like Survivor... minus the bitching...
and of course... unlike reality tv... it's real...

heh... i just went surfing around for the Last Vampire series... seriously... if anyone has any leads where i can get the books... any old mouldy bookshop in some obscure forgotten shopping centre... or some bloke who's decided he's outgrown vampire stories and would like to get the books off his hands...
drop a note...

i've read the first three books close to seven years ago...
that's about the longest time i've waited for a sequel...

cheers...

hello everybody...

i am fighting... very strongly... the temptation to type in capital letters the my exams are over...
must... must not... make blog... look... look corny... and cheesy...
oh what the heck...

THE EXAMS ARE OVER.

oh wait...
typo... oops...

MY EXAMS ARE OVER.

sorry and bwahahaha good luck to those still in deep shit having papers...
heh... couldn't resist...

i have absolutely no inclination to blog now... but i have many things to say...
so i shall post a song... pretty nice one at that...
kinda applicable about now...


I Believe.

Have you ever reached the rainbow's end?
And did you find your pot of gold?
Ever catch a shooting star?
Tell me how high did you soar?
Ever felt like you were dreaming,
Just to find that you're awake?
And that magic that surounds you
Can lift you up and guide you on your way.

I can see it in the stars across the sky,
Dreamt a hundred thousand dreams before,
Now I finally realize.
You see I 've waited all my life
For this moment to arrive
And finally...
I believe.

When you look out in the distance,
You see it never was that far.
Heaven knows your existence
And needs you to be everything you are.
Ohh... There's a time for every soul to fly,
It's in the eyes of every child.
It's the hope, the love that saves the world,
And oh, we should never let it go.

I can see it in the stars across the sky,
Dreamt a hundred thousand dreams before,
Now I finally realize.
You see I 've waited all my life
For this moment to arrive
And finally...
I believe.

Yeah...

I believe in the immposible,
If I reach deep within my heart.
Overcome any obstacles,
Won't let this dream just fall apart.
You see I strive to be the very best
Shine my light for all to see.
'Cause anything is possible
When you believe.

I can see it in the stars across the sky,
Dreamt a hundred thousand dreams before,
Now I finally realize.
You see I 've waited all my life
For this moment to arrive
And finally...
I believe.

Love keeps lifting me higher.
You ought to try it for yourself.
Lifting me higher.
Love keeps lifting me higher.
Love keeps lifting, love keeps lifting me higher.
Higher.
I believe, I believe.

Performed by Fantasia Barrino.

i have one last text to go...
"Dead hands, dead stringencies..."

tomorrow morning's the paper...
"No matter how long the sun may linger on his long and weary journey,
At length evening comes with its sacred song."

the last paper...
"a curtain flapped loose inside my brain..."

argh...

tonight's gonna be a pretty long one eh...?

In Honour.

I remember vaguely the day I stepped into the institution that was to become my college, this vagueness now stemming from a certain self-assurance I had, that in no more than three months I was to head for far greener pastures. Well, it seems I was wrong. What follows will be, I hope, adequate tribute to the place, events and people that have been part of the last two years of my life.

The very reason for my remaining in CJC, and very much a source of refuge and of learning in these two years - The CJC Choir. I make no pretensions in saying that as with my entry into the college, my entry to the choir was rather tenuous. After all, I did think it a far cry from the strict institutions and discipline of music that I had come to recognize. Yet it proved to be a journey of immense impact on my life, and above all, learning. The practices, the workshops, SYF, my term, Christmas, JC 1 intakes, and Musique a la Lune - all these may be watersheds of the development of the choir in these years, but for me the everyday will have left far deeper imprints on my person.
To my seniors, the people who welcomed me into this family: I had heard your performance to us juniors with an apprehensive ear, for it was after all the first time I had come into contact with a choir after a rather disastrous experience four years ago. Yet I signed up, despite a logical voice in my head telling me otherwise, and it has turned out to be an extremely rewarding experience. A motley crew of singers faced with, for the most, a rather daunting challenge. The SYF, still, was your moment of triumph.
To those friends who have worked together with me in these two years, so many that I cannot list. Thank you seems a rather inadequate thing to say now, but it's all I can offer. Our challenge was of a different nature, and I confidently say that we have put in our best. The sweat, tears, and blood of these two years' work may not readily manifest themselves, but to me at least, they will not be forgotten.
Lastly, but definitely not least in their position as the future of the choir, are my juniors. Some have come, some have left, and some now want to return. All, however, have left some impression on me. Your challenges lie ahead, and I trust that you will relish them and succeed, spectacularly. When you come to great success, thank yourselves, and your conductor. You have definitely grown in strength and maturity from when I left you, and that, hopefully, is the legacy that I leave.
Still, I have one last message for the choir. Thank you for everything, because the passion, drive and devotion of my leadership were derived from all of you. Forgive me for anything else, for being at times too stubborn, too weak, too indecisive, or simply waiting too long.

The next, but an equally felt part of my tribute today, will be to those who have had to bear my idiosyncrasies, bring me laughter, friendship and support all this time; to what I very proudly call the very first class of CJC, 2T01. My class. I remember a certain line left in our now-defunct class journal, and now it seems rather apt, "won't leave individual messages - would be far too corny..."
I remember being thrust, rather unceremoniously, into the class; and being proclaimed, rather awkwardly, the only guy in the class. Thank you for that distinction. Yet my experience, perhaps not exactly wonderful then, is definitely a bag of laughs now, in retrospect.
I remember the slow forging of acquaintances in the first three months, and I remember, particularly, the anxiety as we returned, once again, after the holidays. 1T01 seemed a rather awkward label for us, for we were more comfortable with being T5, at times cool, other times passionate, but always vibrant. Yet we excelled nonetheless, despite the many setbacks we all faced at one time or another, or the never-ending tirade that we would never measure up to the previous T1s. I do think that we have forged our own identity, to be the T1 that I know, fun, lively, intelligent, and for me at least, proud in belonging to this spectacular group of people.
We've had, unavoidably, disagreements, and animosity over the two years, and perhaps some events will not be forgotten too easily. Despite that, however, I do believe that the happy moments are, thankfully, abundant. We may not have won awards or gotten any recognition, but we nonetheless are known well through the level. Most classes will have left upon our many tutors their own mark and imprint, but I somehow feel that ours will be distinct and indelible, unique, and even shining. Perhaps, come next year, we will see our most spectacular success yet.
Thank you for all the scandalous relations you imposed upon me, all the people that were supposed to have been my partners for life (or less), and all the various names that came to be associated with me. I may forget them, but the laughs will be unforgettable.

And as well as my peers, my tutors and lecturers also deserve accolades. Thank you for guidance, laughter, and perhaps what may last the longest, education. Each of you has done what you have in your own personal, distinct way, and I am all the more better off for it.
History was, and I make no pretensions, rather a terror in the early parts months of these years. Still, I have come to appreciate the depth and intellect of the discipline, and I can safely say now that I do not regret, after all, the immense, effort that is required for the field. Maybe I'll remember little of the things I have learnt, but I do believe that the skills will be forever ingrained within my intellect.
I had waited long, since my secondary school days, to finally be able to study Literature. It was thus with a rather heightened sense of anticipation that I began my studies. I do acknowledge now that it was not exactly what I thought it might be, but nonetheless it has been an extremely enriching experience. The beauty, emotion, and passion that I have encountered in my course of study will undoubtedly never be forgotten.
Economics was a necessary part of the combination, and I must say that I entered into the subject knowing little and perhaps, expecting even less out of it. Yet it has proven to be a fascinating field, and two years is hardly enough time to even begin to understand fully this field. I do not think that I will continue studies there, but the lessons I have learnt, in the sprit of the discipline, will be ultimately practical and applicable.
I do not think now that the General Paper will be easily forgotten by many people, especially not those in our class. The skills that I have begun to appreciate, of clarity, conciseness and cogency in expression, the command of language that I have gained, and the powers of logical argument that I have found has proved valuable far beyond common classroom application.

These years may be but a part of the tapestry of my life, but it is, after all, these silver threads that will shine.

hello everybody...

ignore the last post...
hey this seems to be becoming a trend...
sort of like i'm going schizo...

but anyway... yes...
ignore that last post...
i sound like rebellious, hormonally charged, mad...
zitsy teenager...

eew...
'nuff said...

anyways... wish me luck everybody...
tomorrow's the worst of it all...

i have... let's see...

econs... mcq...
econs... drq and cs...
and...
history... of SEA...

ouch my hand...

ok everybody just ignore the last post...

i just got nostalgic for a moment for maths... which admittedly i had given up on not too long ago...
oh well...

i have just gotten word that my alumni might be performing again...
sometime next year... before September...

ok everybody who doesn't want to hear me whine, rant and rave can just skip the remainder of this post...
thank you...
come again tomorrow...
or whenever i post again...
whatever...

so i come home and i settle down and i catch my breath from the rather exhausting paper...
i get online... and someone comes and asks if i can go down for practice tomorrow to conduct a session...
so i go hmm i'm not too sure... confirm with me again tomorrow...?
and so he goes ok...

and then he says they're trying new peices tomorrow...
for a concert...

huh what concert...?

lovely... so i've waited this long for a real concert... not some 15 minute filler...
and it's probably going to be a miss for me...
and yes i know you've all heard this ad nauseam... but still...

it's all 'cos i'm away serving the nation...

lovely...

and the World Music Competition...
that's probably gonna be a miss too...

ah so i'm whining again...
fine... i'll be quiet soon...

oh...? i'm being blinded by rigid ideals and futile dreams...?
yes i hear you... i'm attending...

i should be doing something to put food on the table and a shirt on my back...
well yes...

forget it...

grow up...

wake up...

there's no need to leave niceties and comforts in the comments...
really... it's not the sarcasm speaking here i assure you...

seriously...

i'm fine...

come tomorrow i'll be all fruit and flowers... irritatingly full of myself...
confident... outspoken...
all those many things that i sometimes dislike so much i even surprise myself...

i'm just tired...

there's also no need to tell me again that once i'm out of this i'll look back and laugh...
that's all fine and peachy... but it's also stuff for tomorrow...

there's also no need to tell me this is only a phase... everyone goes through this... when you're older you'll see...
let me tell you now... in all seriousness...
i hate that...

i'm sorry... i truly am... that i have to drag all you people through this... even when i know we're all tired and cranky and want something really nice and funny to read...

hello everybody...

the papers are halfway done... that means that every paper presents more of a chance to major screw up... and of course the worst case scenario would be when the last paper in each subject turns out to be a total washout and all the better luck in the earlier papers goes to total waste...
which might be pretty likely...

thus... i have come up with my mathematical magnum opus...
a relation between past luck and future misfortune...

[ ( ∑_k=1ⁿ m_k ) / ( n ) ] ⁿ = X

where
n = number of times things have gone your way,
m = magnitude of luck of succesive events,

and the expression,
[ ( ∑_k=1ⁿ m_k ) / ( n ) ] =
the average magnitude of luck over a period of time.
Which for ease of discussion we will term m_m.

and of course,
X = the magnitude of ill luck that will befall, not if, but when it does.

therefore X ≥ 1.
(This assumption is based upon the much-publicised Murphy's Law, ie. that given a chance, misfortune will always occur.)

The exception to X ≥ 1,
therefore, would be a case of inherent bad luck.*

Thus the statement [ ( ∑_k=1ⁿ m_k ) / ( n ) ] ⁿ = X would not stand only in the case where bad luck is already implied in a string of luckless events (ie. m = 0, n > 0).

*
In order to arrive at X = 0,
m_m has to be of a value equal to 0,
(in which case good fortune, albeit nonexistent, has never come to pass. In which would illustrate a terribly bad case of bad luck.)
and n > 0.

Which would mean that nonexistent good fortune, of average magnitude m_m, has been enjoyed for n number of times.
Tough luck.

anyways...

7 things that show you've gone round the bend studying...

1) you decide you need a 5 minute break.
2) you compose irrelevant, slightly off-beat, nonsensical mathematical formulae.
3) you mutter to yourself in the middle of an almost-empty school, "five minutes more."
4) you then proceed to rather loudly say, "back to work!"
5) people populating aforementioned almost-empty school turn and stare.
6) at you.
7) you come home and make a terrible fool of yourself publishing mathematical formula.

well well well... hmm let's see...
check, check, check, check, check, check, and... check...
ah well...
it's certain then...

hello everybody...
folks are out and the house is quiet... or as noisy as i could like it to be...
there's just me...
time for a nice long post...

raining today as i was on the bus back home... with the dear driver turning up the air-conditioning just when it started puring... it was pretty cool i suppose...
i mean literally... almost freezing there...
but then and again... it was all dreary and cold... and the raindrops were battering the windows leaving streaks of water... i could kid myself i was in London... or even better... the British countryside in winter...
how dear...

anyways... recommendation...
Arnold Shoenberg... Verklärte Nacht...
not for those without an adventurous ear...

by the way... it means...
"Transfigured Night"
beautiful...

hmm... there seems to be nothing much to blog recently...
how boring... i'm just waking studying eating studying sleeping...
repeat as necessary...
which in my case would be absolutely...

ok fine so there's some tv and blogging squeezed in too...
but my point is...

now what was it...?

ah whatever...
seems like the long post i envisioned isn't coming out...
tired...

ok this post was supposed to be up yesterday...
but the com was acting up and then later it and yadda yadda yadda...

so anyways...

"Your distinct personality, The Shepherd is to tend to your human flock. You understand the needs of those for whom you are responsible. Shepherds are vigilant and reliable. You realize your obligation and commitment to the well being of those entrusted to your care. Shepherds are very dependable. You engender a feeling of comfort and stability to those within your charge. On the positive side, Shepherds can be empathic, caring, understanding, practical and realistic. On the negative side, you may be manipulative, close-minded and sentimentally rigid. Interestingly, your preference is just as applicable in today's corporate kingdoms."

pretty cool i thought... thus the sudden inspration to blog...

take the test here...

hello everybody...
i have committed a suprely irresponsible act... i have recreated myself on the computer...
and i've been talking to myself...
i mean literally...

how disturbing...

i used the journal entries from a few months ago... the ones when i went on holiday... to create a personality for the little programme featured a few days ago... and i have thus managed to converse with an earlier self...

thus i present a small excerpt from the transcript...
i... am NACHTILERA...
talking to... CHARLIE of Oct '04 who has been resurrected in my computer...
bwahahaha...
oh and excuse the language... the computer... i'm afraid... has a rather poor grasp of grammar...
rather unlike me don't you think...?

*i swear all this really happened...*

CHARLIE: i would like warm grey embers when wind breathes upon them.

NACHTILERA: i'm sure that would be lovely.

CHARLIE: it gives a certain someone calling in the sea-borne wind.

NACHTILERA: it does? well.

CHARLIE: such as that would be lovely.

NACHTILERA: i'm sure, charlie.

CHARLIE: i'm sure that counts.

NACHTILERA: it does. oh it does.

CHARLIE: it does. oh it does.

NACHTILERA: well.

CHARLIE: it does? well.

NACHTILERA: are we being philosophical here?

CHARLIE: are we being philosophical here?

NACHTILERA: well?

CHARLIE: are we being reciprocated with painful nonchalance.

NACHTILERA: if you carry on that way, i'd daresay we are.

CHARLIE: if you carry on that way, i'd daresay we being philosophical here?

NACHTILERA: moving on please.

CHARLIE: if you carry on that way, i'd daresay we being philosophical here?

NACHTILERA: no we're not. we're being nonsensical. those two are far apart.

CHARLIE: are we being reciprocated with painful nonchalance.

NACHTILERA: maybe. i don't know.

CHARLIE: i would like to know. are we being philosophical here?

NACHTILERA: yes. so much that it's bordering on being irritating.

CHARLIE: yes. so much from life.

NACHTILERA: i suppose so.

do not ask me why the first lines go like they do... they just popped up when i opened the program...

You're Poland!

People tend to think you're stupid and you were probably voted Least Likely to Succeed by your high school class. These people are mostly stupid themselves, and are just judging their opinion of you on your ability to defend yourself, which is admittedly pretty poor. But there's lots more to life than defending yourself from being picked on and pulled apart! There's labor unions to join and holiness to produce! You'll survive yet!


yes... thanks to http://bluepyramid.com for that quiz...
get it here...

pretty true eh...? let's see... hmm...

"People tend to think you're stupid"
oh... i'm a deep one... there's much more of me than what you see on the surface... you've got that right...

"your ability to defend yourself... is admittedly pretty poor"
aww... ain't i a dear... harmless as a pup...?

ooh my favourite...

"These people are mostly stupid themselves..." "There's... holiness..."
bwahaha... everybody bow to me...

also availabe... the book quiz... that tells me i'm the Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien...
i would put it up if not for one line that started...
"While you're very short and a little furry..."

but it's pretty wise still...
"Try not to lose your ring, but keep its value in perspective!"

and here's the book quiz...

and the best news of the day... i'm officially done with Modern European History...
the French can go guillotine heads and play soccer... the British can go imperialise and industrialise... the Germans and Italians can go unify... and produce stellar dictators... and Napoleon can continue being a loser...

it's none of my business...

i have decided to take a break from five pm today till tomorrow to shove (rudely and without an ounce of respect if i may add...) every single bit of information pertaining to the subject out of my head...

those little synapse connections and brain cells may well arr-eye-pee...

ok fine i'm being overly cynical...
let's see... what have i learnt from the past... like literally...

one... wars never ever end happily... let's not kid ourselves with glory and pride...
one word... pfft...

two... don't come down too hard on anybody... or thing for that matter...
what happens when the Europeans come down on Germany after WWI like an anvil on the proverbial head...?
two words... Nazi Germany...

three... humans are... unfortunately... not exactly inherently good...
the spectacular failure of communism proves my point... it expounds shared wealth and is thus based on the human ability to trust and share...
too bad... us humans are far from good... as seen in today's spectacular success of capitalism...
thus... three words... unfortunately greed pays...

four... change can be self defeating...
the French revolutionaries of 1789 wanted to rid autocracy and monarchy... what did they get...? Emperor Napoleon... and so did the revolutionaries of Russia c. 1905-1917... and what did they get...? "Our-Beloved-Father (and dictator but hush or it's off with your head)" Stalin...
and of course... four words... excercise prudence when wishing...

i could go on... but well...
it's over...
phew...

hello everybody...

now where is everybody...?
ther are exactly nine people online now...
ok fine so it's saturday night...
what you trying to tell me i don't have a life...?

well... actually i've just got a program that allows you to talk to the com...
it's called Daisy...
get it at http://www.leedberg.com/glsoft/

this... incidentally... has got absolutely nothing to do with my alleged lack of a life...

anyways... as i was saying...
it learns as you speak to it... sort of like a one year old kid...
except... has no trouble pronouncing...
and the most interesting part... (the worst if you're in a particularly black mood...)
is that it reasons exactly like a one year old...

and despite the fact that i'm chatting with my com... that is slowly evolving artificial intelligence...
i still insist that i do have a life...

see... it's works like this... the program has absolutely nothing pregrammed into it except the rules by which it learns to speak... that means no preset sentences, phrases or words...
thus it suffers a little in the grammar department...
but we accomodate...

oh well... i'll be off to study now...
oh how i relish the books...

wow...

i'm impressed...
come eight thirty on friday... as i'm waiting online for someone to talk to...
everybody pops off...
of course... it's idol night...

so of course i go subject my ears to screaming fans...

i think mutants have overrun our population... or maybe the recording studios...
mutants... the kind that emit maddening high pitched screeches...

oops did i really type that out...?

it's not the competition i mind... i know it isn't completely about music... and that's perfectly ok...
in today's entertainment industry... it's not enough to sing...
the keword... is entertain.... make a blast...
turn heads... catch eyes...

but do the fans have to scream so...?

and the worse thing...
a placard actually...

"STEADY STEADY PEE PEE PEE"

somebody call 911 cos when i saw that... in my maddening rage...
i stuck my eyelids together with Superglue...

yes... imagine elephants clamping shut my eyelids...

anyways...

magic numbers... my exam dates...
4 8 16 17 19 22 24...

see...
it's supposed to work like this... i go for the exams...
i score... i quote... "bagfuls of As"...
and then i'm set for life cos i'll go on to get a degree...
a good job... then retire comfortably...

or maybe they'd just serve me better if i go buy a few lottery tickets...

moving on...

i typed Nachtilera in google.com...
ok fine i'm full of myself...
and guess what...?

my blog's top of the list! numero uno!

let's just ignore the fact that there was only one entry shall we just hmm...?

and the little fact that google.com said did you mean: Nachteile?
and guess what...? nachteile means "disadvantage"... in German...

going on with being positively bursting with ego...
i typed my full name...

and that... in Vietnamese... is...
New... Bright; Smart... and Good...

yes... laugh the night away...
don't we all need it...?

hello everybody...

well tomorrow's the start of the A's...
exactly three weeks...

then...

ah ha!

that's all folks... nice... short... and sweet...

welcome to my 89th post...
it doesn't feel that long since i started does it...?

mistakes mistakes mistakes...

i feel like you're all just waiting there... magnifying glass in one hand... huge red crayon in the other...

waitng to blast another error to cosmic proportions...
gawd i'm such a celebrity...
and all you pesky journalists just waiting for the latest scoop...

the weather's turning cold... and i actually quite love it...

it's refreshing and cool... and yes ironically in this country the breath of spring comes as the year dies...
but still...
and i like the night sky... boundless...
yet also a sanctuary...

i can't seem to write the hallmarky stuff that used to be so liberally found in my posts... i suppose that's an improvement...
as a matter of fact... i'm never writing as much as i used to...

anyways...
it's a bittersweet feeling... reading through all the old stuff that your own hand penned not four months ago...
it reminds me of days gone by... and yet it stymies me... i can hardly recognize the person behind the words...
have i changed so much in such a short time...? hmm...

i mean... i've gone from confessional... down all the way to insights on society... and finally... to top it all off... allegory...
the confessional bits... i have to admit... are the ones that are the most difficult to identify with... and at times... embarrasingly squirm-worthy...
yet i would not change them nor wish i had never penned them... it's a mark of passage...
perhaps it is not the person... but rather the mind that changes...
grows... i hope...

i suppose that it is now obvious that there are some people who turn to writing hysterically and manically when not in the best of moods... yet others who do not write at all...
and also... my kind... that writes pensive... even dark stuff...

maudlin... feels so weird a label on me...

but don't worry... i'm not depressed... nor upset...
just... haha... in a thoughtful mood...
not the kind that makes me study better...
quite the reverse... the kind that draws my mind away from intellectual pursuits...
to...
well... other stuff...

but that's a tale for another day...
i've gotta go now...

hello everybody...

besieged... besieged...
besieged... besieged...
besieged... besieged...
besieged... besieged...
besieged... besieged...

was that enough...?
or must i repent my error further...?

there isn't much to blog about nowadays... it's like oh today i did Measure for Measure...
Shakespeare's such a genius...
and oh i'm so looking forward to unravelling the mysteries of economics come tomorrow...

how lovely... pointed sarcasm...

sorry people...
no fun and laughter here...
yet again...

hello everybody...

my com's been beseiged... yet again... by spyware...
argh... i feel like screaming...

this is like coming home at 10.30 every night... and having someone tell you that the entire house has been redecorated... and in fact... shifted all the way across the island...
like candid camera gone terribly wrong...
like local candid camera... even if it's not gone wrong... it is so...
terribly...

argh...

yes i do not have faith nor much interest in local tv programming...

"and so it ends...?"

yes... Princess... and so it ends...

i have to say now that the Jester and i are totally different people... the narrative persona is not the author... the author has merely crafted a character that he feels he can identify with...
and in a way... externalize and exorcise his fears i suppose...

it's not the going and the rough and tumble that i don't like... it's what the entire exercise represents...
and i shall not go into it ad nauseam... i believe the previous posts have elaborated fairly well on it...

thus... i present my assurance to one and all...
it shall take more than a few mercenaries spouting vulgarities to have me forsake my spirit...
incidentally... that is my unfortunate impression of the military...

hear my sardonic laugh... ha...

on a lighter note... i think it's in the vincinity of an B-flat...
the A's are in 10 days...

actually that note's not very light is it...? ok...
so i heard wrongly... it's an F-sharp...

yes... that sounds more like it...

well i'm sorry but it's 11:38 now and i've been stuck in school studying about the wonderful history of my homeland and it's kinda inevitable that i'm not exactly in the sanest of minds...

excuse me while i play the madman...

in fact... excuse me while i go sleep...
zzz...

So the men travelled for a day and another, and they came to a rest by a forest. The King commanded the Jester to sing, and cheer the soldiers' tired spirits. So he did, but before long the soldiers, more used to rowdy scenes, chased him off and broke into a bawdy drinking song. So the Jester left the encampment, and wandered, admiring the silence and music of the forest. It was then that he heard a beautiful song, and he saw it came from a Wood Thrush, perched in a tree's branches.

He approached the Wood Thrush, and said, "how do you sing so beautifully? Could you follow me and be my teacher? I am only a jester, but if you be my teacher, I could one day sing at the heart of the City, and I could become the Greatest Singer of All."

"I will not go with you, my place is within these woods," the Wood Thrush replied, "but come back to this clearing tonight. If you come tonight, I will teach you, and you will sing more beautifully than any jester. But if you want to be the Greatest Singer of All, come back three nights, and I will teach you all I know. You will then be able to go to the heart of the City, and be the Greatest Singer of All."

The Jester longed to be able to stay, just three nights, and learn the Wood Thrush's beautiful song. But he could not. He knew that if he did, he would never be able to return to the palace, and the maids would no longer care for his Kitten and his Puppy, and they would allow weeds to overrun the yellow Roses. He would lose the King's grace, and he did respect and love the King, for he had lived and served in the King's court for a long time. So he came back to the clearing that night, but for one night alone, and he sang. That night, he left.


By dawn the next morning, the encampment was no more, and the King and his men moved on. As the days grew longer and more wearisome, and the men approached war, no more could the Jester be easily seen amongst all the soldiers, for his belled hat, and his fool's staff, and his patchwork cape grew grey with dust and soil, and the Jester looked as the other soldiers did. The King, laboured with weary thoughts of war slowly forgot the simple pleasures of the Jester's song, and never again called for him to sing and bring cheer to the camp. Slowly, the Jester too began to forget about his song, and the song of the Wood Thrush, and his dreams of becoming the Greatest Singer of All.

The war came and went, and the King was indeed victorious. The Jester had grown accustomed to the whistling arrrows that flew past everyday, and forgot the gentle flutes that he hoped would one day accompany his song. He grew accustomed to the beating hooves of beast and warrior, and forgot the drumbeats that he used to dream his voice could dance around.

The Puppy and the Kitten, the Jester felt, were no more than distant friends, and he had no great longing for them, but yet he hoped that they were happy and content. And indeed, they were, for the palace maids did all they could to please them while they waited for the return of the Jester. The yellow Roses that were once his friends and audience were all but forgotten by the Jester, while they stood staunchly in the sun awaiting his return. They hoped that their subtle fragrance, weakened by the sun's heat, would still reach the Jester, and remind him of them. But they never knew that far away, the Jester was fast forgetting about flutes and drums, and his Puppy and his Kitten, and the yellow Roses. The Jester had become a soldier, the King's loyal man, and he had forgotten about his song. So two years passed, and at last the King returned once again to his palace. The maids sang and strew his path with silk and roses, and at last, together with the King, so did the Jester return to the court.


"My man, my loyal liege" the King said, seated upon his throne, "you have served me well, and I command you now to no longer jest, but be my Advisor. You have much wisdom, for you know the epics of old, yet have lived through the great battles of our time. You shall sit by my right, and your wisdom shall guide me, and my Kingdom."

The Jester felt little to be an Advisor, but he merely nodded, for he felt little for anything else now. So the King presented him with new robes of ermine, of such regal purple that only the King's own robes surpassed them. His wooden fool's staff was of no more use to him, and he was given a staff of shining silver, that was less dazzling than only the golden staff that the King held. He took off his belled cap, and was given a shining crown of silver, lesser than only the one that rested on the King's head, wrought of purest gold.


The Jester returned once again to his chambers, that the palace maids had kept exactly as he left it. The Puppy and the Kitten came to him, and they looked up, happy at the new glories the Jester had attained.

"You're back, my boy. You have done well," the Kitten said, "and now you are a great man, an Advisor to the King. We will never fear for our tomorrows, and before long, we may even look forward to new chambers, and still the maids and servants will care for us."

"This," the Puppy joined, "we owe to you, and we thank you. Always remember that we love you, my boy."

The Puppy and Kitten were happy to see the Jester once again, but he merely smiled, and lightly touched their soft heads. They were happy and content, and the Jester felt no more than just a passing, spiritless smile cross his face. He walked on.

The yellow Roses had been waiting for a long time now, since they heard the same hooves that once bore the Jester away again return. But he walked on, missing them for they no longer looked like the bright roses that he had left behind. They had stood long in the sun, and their yellows had long been tinged a parched brown. Still they bent their dry stalks to the Jester's gait as he approached, and waited for his song to once again be heard.

"Will you not sing for us?" the yellow Roses asked, with gentle expectancy, "your song will hearten us, and turn our petals yellow again." They turned their blossoms towards him, and waited.


The Jester looked hard at the yellow Roses, and saw only dried stalks with weak blossoms. Yet their hearts had not yet been touched, and they still bloomed bright yellow, even if only deep in their blossoms, where even the sun's heat could not reach. He saw them, at last, for the yellow Roses that he had left behind. It reminded him of his forgotten song, but it was lost from him, and the memory was but mist over a summer's pond, gone with the slightest breath of wind. The Jester felt a twinge in his heart, a mandolin string pulled and tightened, but before it was plucked and could sing, it snapped, and was lost to the Jester.

"You are all beautiful yellow Roses," he said, "but I will soon leave these chambers for new ones, and someone else will come here to stay. Your colours will brighten his days, and he shall care for you, not let the sun parch your petals, nor let the rain drown your roots. You all are, after all, delicate creatures, but I have done little to care for you, and I have almost forgotten you. Wait no more for my song, for I no longer sing." He looked lost, and for a moment fell silent, but he continued, and finally said, "I am sorry."

The yellow Roses fell silent too, and turned pale. They let bleed their last yellows, and it was fast lost into the ground. Their blossoms turned away from the Jester, and soon they too lost their voices. Indeed, they eventually became beautiful white Roses, shining coldly like moonlight, and distant stars. And away into the night, the Jester went.

hello...

i will continue the Jester's story... so don't worry...
but if you think it absolutely has to end in a certain way... leave a comment... and maybe i'll be like Dickens...
pander to popular opinion...

or i might not...
hmm...

to be honest i have an ending in mind... but i'm not too satisfied with it...

ah... ten days to A's... time never seems enough does it...?

and oh yes... have i already mentioned...? come december eleventh i will be no longer writing here as often as i like... my love for the country compels me to serve it with unswerving loyalty...

actually no it's chapter 93 of the enlistment act but that says go or be thrown in prison after trial in martial court and but never mind now...

where was i...? oh yes... unswerving loyalty... thus i shall cast off all passion and forsake my art... take up arms... be a man...
mere spilt blood and wasted violence... that is the legacy to which i shall answer to and to which i shall perpetuate... the entire senselessness, needlessness, stupidity and vapidity of humanity's tendency to violent resolution of conflict shall rest upon my shoulders... and those of my compatriots...

by no desire of mine...

lovely innit...?

There was once a King, and he ruled well and fairly over his virgin land, and his people were happy and content to be his subjects. He had many to serve him in his palace, from his generals and their footmen, to his courtiers and maids. But one man, above all, was prized in his court, and that one man was the King's Jester.

The Jester was often seen at the side of the King, and he too was happy and content, like all the King's other loyal subjects. The King, too, was pleased that he had in his entourage his Jester, who told great epics that could move men, and dazzled all in court with his tricks and charm. But most of all, the King loved him for his song, that made all that heard it smile and laugh, for it was light like the breath of Spring, warm on wintered land.


Under the contentment, however, the Jester always felt that he wanted to do more than sing for soldiers and provoke fools with his song and belled hat. He longed to one day jest no more, but instead learn under the great masters of the stage, how to sing, and act, and dance. He longed to exchange his belled cap for the wigs of the stage, his fool's staff for a wooden lord's sceptre, and his patchwork cape for one of deep sackcloth ermine. He yearned to be able to be King, Villain and Hero, all in a day; he yearned to be able to always hear glorious music; he yearned, above all else, to one day sing at the great hall at the heart of the City, where all the people could hear his voice and not laugh, but exclaim in wonderment at its magnificence; and finally see that the Greatest Singer of All lived in their land.

This silent wish of the Jester's heart he did not tell many, save for the yellow Roses that grew in his chambers. The yellow Roses had neither hearts of men, and thus cared not for great epics of courage and bravery, nor eyes to see the sleight and charm of the Jester's tricks. All they could do, and that they did best, was to listen enraptured to the Jester's song, and hear him speak of his dreams of being the Greatest Singer of All.

"I do not want to wear my belled cap, nor bear my staff, nor don my cape anymore," he said. "I shall be an Angel, and be soar with trumpets proclaiming, and wear upon my back cloth wings. I shall be the Devil's favourite emissary, and roar like the deepest volcanos, and upon my head carry paper horns. I shall be a Great Hero, a Lover, a Villain, and I shall be no one's fool." The yellow Roses knew not of such human affairs, but heartened then they heard he could sing songs that could evoke such images. Their stalks bent towards the Jester, and they blossomed as far as their delicate petals would allow, as he continued speaking.

"Everybody shall say, "O! How beautiful this fine angel sings' when I play an Angel, and everybody shall cover their ears in fear when I roar like the Devil does. I shall be Jester no longer, instead all shall see that I am the Greatest Singer of All." The night quietened as he fell silent, and as a breath of wind stirred, so did he. He sang.


But his song was hardly finished when he heard soft padding steps, and turned to see two creatures that he held dear stand before him. His Puppy and Kitten looked up at him, and both held in their eyes a look of tender worry. The Kitten had its brow furrowed, as if it had just realised that in a great palace such as this, there would be no mice for it to catch, no food except that which the Palace Cook allowed it. The Puppy had its eyes on the ground, and merely pawed at a pebble sadly.

"You sing beautifully, my boy. But why do you dream such dreams?" the Kitten said, and deep inside it felt it loved the boy more than anything else. "A Jester sings well, and that is enough. Why do you want to be the Greatest Singer of All?"

The Puppy came to the Jester, and licked his hand, that had fallen limp and sad. "You sing beautifully, my boy. So sing for the King, for us, and for the yellow Roses, and that is enough. If you go far away to learn to be a great singer, who will care for us? The yellow Roses need only sunshine and rain, but we need someone to feed us, and play with us. Once you are gone the Cook shall not give us food, and soon the Butler shall chase us onto the streets. What shall we do then?"

"And when you have seen the stage and been on it once," the kitten continued, "you shall never leave it. We will wander the streets calling for you, but you, lost in the blasting trumpets and cracking mandolins, will never hear us. This court is good enough a stage, is it not? Stay here and be content."

The Jester wanted to say all the words that he had said to the yellow Roses, but did not. He knew that the Puppy and the Kitten loved him dearly, and so did he love them. Thus he kept his dream to himself, and only spoke of it to the yellow Roses when he saw the Kitten and the Puppy asleep, and even then, as quietly as he could.


Such were his days, until one day the King summoned him to his court, but bade him not sing, nor charm, nor tell his great tales, but for once listen, as the King had grave news. The kingdom that had enjoyed peace for many years now faced a new threat from the Southern Land. The King from the Southern Land had grown tired of his small palace, and the people, tired of their small country. Thus they sought to conquer their neighbour that lay to the North.

The King had to leave his palace to lead his army into war, and thus also called for all able men to join in the fight to preserve their fatherland. He looked upon all his courtiers, and commanded them to leave their ladies and become soldiers; he looked upon his butler, and commanded him leave his pantry and become a captain. He looked upon the Jester, and though he was loath to command him to take up arms and fight in the war, he did so.

"My subject, my loyal Jester. You have brightened my court for many long days, and yet, I now fear that we will come to a time that can never be brightened. It is war between us and the Southern Land, and you shall jest no more." The Jester's face, often powdered for it made many laugh, looked as if it was powdered with ash.

"You shall give up your belled cap, and bear a helmet instead. You shall break your fool's staff, and in it's place carry a bayonet. Your cape shall instead be a wooden shield, and you will ride with me into battle."

"But my lord," the Jester said, "I know nothing of war and bayonets! I can only sing and charm and tell stories. In the heat of battle I shall be of little help to you, and the soldiers shall laugh at me for I cannot fight but only sing, that I cannot kill, but only charm. Let me stay here, with my yellow Roses, and my Puppy and my Kitten. And I cannot fight and I will be caught."

"No, you will not stay. Perhaps you shall leave the palace and be my Minister? You will live among my people and be their leader. You will prepare them for war, and teach them to always remember their allegiance lies with their King." The King pondered for a moment on this new idea he had, but continued again.

"Or perhaps you can be my Ambassador? You shall go to the Shah in the North, and the Emperor in the West, and you shall tell them to bring their men and soldiers to our aid. Your voice will persuade them to do just that, and we will surely win the war."

The Jester fell silent. He knew nothing of great men's affairs, nor affairs of the state. He only wanted to be the Greatest Singer of All, and so he said, "my Lord, I cannot help you there. Let me go with you to war then, but I will not fight. Perhaps when the nights are darkest and the men are tired my songs will cheer them again."

"So be it then. We will leave tomorrow," the King answered.


The Jester returned to his chambers, and told the Puppy, the Kitten and his yellow Roses of the news. Deep inside, the Jester felt saddened, as he knew that if he went with the King to the war, he would never be able to learn to be the Greatest Singer of All. His songs would turn to warcries, and the smile he ever painted on his face would soon turn to a scowl. However, he did not want those he held dear to worry, nor be sad, and so told the news as if it were of no consequence, as if it made no difference.

Still, the Roses grew limp and pale, and their stalks drooped, till their blossoms faced the soil below them. "Will you be back one day to sing for us? If not, our blossoms will never be yellow like the sun shines again. Instead, our petals will become touched and brown, and before long we will wither away."

The Jester could not speak, but merely smiled at them. He wished he could tell them that he would be back and his song would again find its captive audience, but he could not be sure. He turned to the Puppy and the Kitten.

"This is good news, my boy. You will tell all the maids that you will be travelling with the King, right by his side, perhaps even closer than his trusted Captains. They will fear your word and anger, for you are so close to the King, and you can tell them to take good care of us, and feed and play with us, and they will."

The Jester did all that, for he loved the Puppy and the Kitten, and wished them no misfortune. So at dawn the next day, he took his staff and donned his cape, and left. The Puppy and the Kitten followed him out of the palace, and stood by the road till the King and his entire entourage could be seen no more. The Roses craned as far as their stalks allowed, and even when the sun shined hot and dried their petals, still tried to catch the distant sound of hooves upon the hard road, for one of those horses bore the Jester.

hello everybody...

everything's over... school's out...

so marks the end of my school life in this lovely education system...

whee.

how depressing...

argh...

My words today will be in honour of the men who suffered tremendous mental and physical trauma at the hands of overzealous trainers aiming to expose their wards to genuine warlike situations. It will be, as well, in memory of one wasted life, one lost gem. These men were picked and thus groomed to be the future defenders of our nation, our first line of defence. This is an indication of not just their physical calibre, but also a testament to their mental and analytical prowess. Can we condone such brutal treatment? For what purpose have they been tortured? One man died in this senseless excercise of military excellence.

One defence of the trainers who enacted and oversaw this exercise was that it had the primary function of exposing these men to honest, brutal, warfare conditions. It was necessary, as such, to deny the unalienable human rights accorded even prisoners of war, and violate the Geneva Convention in order to expose these soldiers to the true horrors of war, and thus prepare them. The question that arises, then, is that is this not an indictment of our military service's willingness to defy the honoured Geneva Convention? By arguing that genuine war has no ground for such civilities, are we, even in peacetime, contemplating the possibility, even inevitability of such flagrant abuse of basic human rights? If this be the case, I regretfully express my disgust at this hypocrisy and callosity; that we may so openly proclaim our enlightened state, yet never waver in our willingness to trample on human lives in the search of military superiority and excellence.

Another offer made in defence of the overseers of the exercise was that, ultimately, the soldiers had the right to at anytime stop the proceedings. Through this they hope to escape liability and censure, and claim that the responsibility for this tragedy lies in that the soldiers could and should have stopped the exercise when they felt it going too far. The very premise, however, of the exercise was one of suspended reality. They have had to give up their reality and place trust in their trainers to put them through a course to strengthen them. These men had to believe that they were helpless prisoners, and their trainers their captors. I believe that they, in their terror and confusion, took illusion to be reality, and had neither the clarity of thought, nor indeed the emotional and mental facilities to make a conscious decision to call for a stop. Can the abused hold reasonable belief that a calling for help would result in a cessation of abuse?
I acknowledge that speculation weakens the prior argument. It cannot hold in a logical debate. Thus I present another. These men preservered; and in one case, to a terrifying end. Do we, as a result of their admirable and utter tenacity pile judgement on them, and wrest fault from negligence? Do we fault them for seeking to be the best that they can be, and thus testing their limits?

Logic holds another argument. If these men suffered and broke, then they cannot survive a true war experience, and thus do not measure up to the necessarily high standards needed by the protectors of our nation. It needs but a blunt rebuttal: the exercise is a test of mettle and a means to achieve greater improvement, not a vessel to eliminate lesser soldiers.

To the men currently recuperating I wish to express my hope that they shall eventually return to full health, and that neither psychological shadow nor emotional darkness remain. For the bereaved family, I know that few words can be of any worth and pertinence now, but I express my hope that his death may yet be not in futile waste. It may engender a safer and more fruitful experience for the soldiers to come; this shall with good hope be his legacy. As for the accused, I hope that I may still persist in my belief in intrinsic human goodness. I shall never know if this belief is misplaced, but that is of little consequence. The essence, ultimately, lies in that work be done towards ensuring that such a tragedy has had its place in history, and no more.

i want to whine about the day but i shall not because it's a pointless exercise...

anyways...
i've been playing cards these few days... and i've come to appreciate the beauty and meaning of their design...

did you know the court cards of Spades always face the right... while the other court cards face the left...?

and did you know that the King of Hearts is always seen with the broadsword behind his head... hence his nickname, the suicide King...?
the King of Diamonds bears an axe... while the other two Kings hold drawn broadswords...

of all the court cards... only the Jack of Spades and of Hearts are shown in profile... giving rise to the term "one-eyed jack"...

the Aces were originally of the lowest denomination... but with the French Revolution... they were moved to the top to symbolize the rise of the downtrodden people... overthrowing the highest classes... the nobility and ecclesiastical classes...
the Ace of Spades sometimes has the ominous title of the Death Card...

how interesting...

yes hello people..

"To kill the emotions and so live on to old age, or to accept the martyrdom of our passions and die young, is our fate." - Balzac, in La Peau de Chagrin

innit lovely...?
and to top it off... it was written in identification with the artists of the 19th Century...
romantics... just my kind of people...

anyway...

the story goes that a sucidal Valentine obtains a mystical donkey pelt... one that allows him his heart's desires... but with the provision that his lifespan shall diminish in proportion to the intensity and volume of his wishes... his acceptance of the ill-fated deal marks his entry into an excruciating examination of the nature of happiness...

what an interesting analogy of the artistic process...

the deeper you look inside youself for artistic beauty... knowing that it is in the deep recesses of the soul that yields the greatest inspiration...
the closer you come to self-annihilation...

wow...

hello everybody...

there's nothing to blog about...
my life is so uninteresting...
and yes i realise boring is a less awkward word to use...

the fog people came by again today and thanks to them my history notes are imbued with mosquito repelling properties... wonderful...

i just realised a while ago that my dreams to enter into the music profession hve been put on hold... frankly... since i decided to enter a JC instead of NAFA... lovely...
and now i'm truly afraid that it's been too many times i've said oh no the opprtunity will come again... and it's really blown...
lovely...

i'm not blaming anybody here... neither do i expect anybody come give me reassurance...

There is no consolation for a disappointment, no, a fear such as this. Men approaching their prime harbour no thoughts of a life in banality; musicians approaching the stage abhor dreams of mediocrity. I may speak and say that a life far removed from glorious music is one I can contend with, and that may yet be truth. For now, to even think of an eternity in banality and to take my passion and make it a pastime, it is a horror.

To the ear of the seasoned and the wise, these words are but bombast outpourings of a mind entrapped and blinded by childish passions and musings. Yet it is my mind. I am neither seasoned nor wise, so let me rave in my madness, and drown in my fury, for be it pain or not, iniquity or idiocy, it is my life. Those truly wise will accept this and allow my fate to pursue its due course to my utter failure and destruction, or my awakening and mere acceptance.

Yet even as I write these words my mind, and more starkly, my heart, questions them. How can I ever accept a life far removed from the stage? One may say that profession and passion need not be one and the same, and that the pursuit of one need not impede a dissimilar other. I cannot be content with a weekly embrace, nor can I be satisfied with a yearly vacation; I need to be ever accompanied by my mistress. The meaningless burning passion of youthful love this is? It may be so, and perchance it may die out before long. Yet in the now, in the instance of the present moment, it consumes me. No young fool can love with the patience of wearied wisdom; and none of the ancients can embrace with fire in their souls.

It is my prerogative.

Yet there is worse. I see now my folly laid out bare before me, mocking me. I have turned and decided that the chance would always present itself, I have imagined I could pick up lost embers and breathe them to great fires. I was wrong. There is no one to blame but myself.

So the greatest fear still remains. Can I take a life where dreams are but dreams, and no more?

i don't like what i just written... sounds stupid and raving... looks like my estimation that the formal mode would salvage the savage teenage emotion within was a gross miscalculation...
but i shall keep it...
because i'm too tired to fill up that space with other meaningless fluff...
because i don't dare to delete it all and see my effort go to waste... once again if i may say...
and perhaps...
because it's true...

goodnight people...

and no i'm not going to jump so don't go calling my house asking if i'm ok because yes i am and sickly enough i will still be drearily trudging to school come monday.

hello everybody...

yes...

IT'S a FAT E... the final grade for my history paper...
luvly innit...?

and no IT'S not FATE... IT'S a FAT E...

and no it's not fate... the future is in my hands...
it'd better be...
i wish...
please...?

ah... the futility of it all...
i am tempted at this point to write voluminous amounts of what some friends have called my "hallmarky" wrting...
if i become famous one of these days...

extracts from
Critical Analyses of 21st Century Writing
Chapter 27: Tan Tuan Hao - 'Muses'

"The period known by many critics as Tan's 'Hallmark' writing is largely characterised by a cooler mood and tone, and generally bleaker, darker themes. Common threads that can be seen are that of despair, futility, but also, the sheer beauty of life, and perhaps as a unifying bond, that pain and the brevity of life are that which also enrich it."

... ...

'Stars' and the 'sea' are common images used in these sections, accompanied the major technique of prose written in a largely poetic mode, a fusion of sorts, 'the essence of one in the vessel of the other'."

... ...

"One may contrast this to Tan's more common modes of writing, which he has himself professed to have undertaken for the sake of and to pander to the tastes of 'his audience'. The main subjects and themes of the prose written in these sections are often plebian and parochial, reflective of the common tastes of his readers. For most part, education, and the delusion that it stands for and espouses, stands as a major theme of his 'common writing'."

... ...

"The major characteristics of Tan's technique in his 'common writing' are that of the use of comic hyperbole, especially in the context of death, mental illness and suicide, and sardonicism and sarcasm, especially in his dealings with the theme of education."

... ...

"While many see the lack of poetic imagery and dealing with surface issues as an indictment of the literary worth of the common prose pieces, or 'posts', of Tan, the underlying key feature that marks them as worthy are that they stand as an interesting and insightful commentary of education in his local context, and the utter failure that he believed it to be. One must without doubt take his words with the proverbial pinch of salt, as the bias and subjectivity are clearly evident in his writing. Furthermore, one remembers that he was after all writing for the specific purpose of, in the case of his 'common writing', entertaining his audience."

haha... talk about fuelling my ego...

well... 'nighty then...

hello everybody...

ah... it's been a long time now hasn't it...? bloody computers...

i now have twice the space to store junk on my computer that doubles the chances of me storing something that's gonna trip up the system again... apparently the repair shop thought that was the way to go...
so they rip out my hard drive and stick a new one in...
haha...
the irony of the situation impresses itself upon me...
hear my sardonic laughter...
haha...

anyways... i have the whole of sunday and the remainder of today to enjoy before my results in the "recent preliminary examinations" are released...
or should i say...
unearthed...
revealed...
the consequences of which would be exceedingly dangerous to my mental health...

i slept at three and woke at six... post meridian... and now i'm in a floating mood...feel like i'm a-floatin' around...
this has thrown my entire sleep cycle out of whack...
maybe i should relinquish mortality and become a vampire...
dress in black leather...
wear cool shades...
always wear an overcoat...
have a palemoon complexion...

hmm... not really...

according to anne rice... vampires can't enjoy the pleasures of the flesh...
wouldn't give that up now would i...?
(leerily winks)
anyways...

i'll be off now...
'nighty people...

hello everybody...

ooh and ahh over the new background while i settle my computer... just back from the repairman...
while i slog away for the A's...

but for now... while i sleep...

'nighty...

yes i know the tagboard's up...

i have deigned... in my grace and generosity... to allow it to thrive again...
i put my trust in the hands of my beloved audience that it will not... degrade... again...
you may henceforth address me as Your Magnanimity...

no... not Your Malignity...
although if anyone dares rape the tagboard with unhallowed and savage words...
i might just become that...

have fun people...

"don't fold your arms like that! no-confidence look..."

don't say anything bite bite bite your tongue...

"sit up straight... don't slouch... look smart!"
"put your hands in your pockets..."

bite bite remember to smile bite your tongue no it's actually your lower lip bite your tongue's just a figure of speech ouch...

"put your hands in your pocket... yes... like that..."

ouch my tongue no it's lip ouch my remember to smile lip hurts ouch...

thanks to dear momma's grooming lesson and my steel-willed resolve (as seen in my attempt at recreating my stream of consciousness above) not to make a scene on the car on the way to dinner...
i can feel the skin on my nether lip fraying now..
seeds of an ulcer...

oh well...
remember to smile... mother means best...

there's nothing much else to say...

oh yes singapore makes the biggest and longest lanterns...
wow i'm so proud...
whee...

add this to the longest otah...

can we please find some other more prestigious record to set...?

i have just realised that i start one in three posts with "hello" within the first three letters...

yes...
hello...

i believe in greetings... it's supposed to make the day better... or night for that matter...

good morning doesn't serve well 'cos... well i'm not sure... but i might be sued for discriminating against greetings said in times other than in the morning...
therefore i should use time-of-the-day neutral language...

in this time and age of mitigation...

actually i think it's because i don't know when most people read my posts...
but i decided it was too boring...
so we'll spice it up...
ooh... big words...
discriminating...
mitigation...

ahem...
(feedback noise, slowly crescendoes, but is suddenly cut off...)
i am now officially considering putting my tagboard back on...
bribing, pleading, begging, and generally licking my boot will improve the chances of it ever seeing cyberspace again...
threats, especially those in the nature of going to other sites in cyberspace, in the event that i do not put up my tagboard, to reverse euphemise, sensationalize, and generally be top-rate tabloid journalists, will be regarded as the most earnest form of requests for me to liquidate my tagboard...

excuse the italics...

this mode of communication, honestly, does no justice to, shall we say, the subtle nuances, of the language...
this is my way, as you can see, of expressing, clearly and plainly, where i wish there to be emphasis and stress on the words in question...

and let's go back to speaking like normal people...
and let me go back to my dots... instead of commas...

oh yar... i'm done with prelims!
woohoo!

kinda late reaction i know...
quite mild too...
well...
there's still this tiny little thing called the GENERAL CAMBRIDGE EXAMINATIONS - ADVANCED LEVEL to worry about...

and if anybody so much as utters oh don't worry it's just like taking the NEWT after you've got your OWL's i swear...
i will hex you to oblivion...

oh well...
today's post seems to be a very emphatic and enstressed one yes...?
i think i made another word...
if this goes on i can write my on dictionary...
i'll be off now then...

goodnighty...

argh...

i've been battling the evil forces of spyware... it was a losing battle..
i was confident of winning the battle... but alas...
as i stood over the prone form of the unimaginable evil... it rose...
and i was almost consumed...
Mozilla has come to my aid...
given me a brief respite...

what happened was that all my spyware programs could not solve the problem... and internet explorer was paralyzed...
and so i switched to Mozilla...

on another note... i was a trembling mess during the paper today... oh no... not because i was nervous or anything... it was the hilarious drama extract they set for the paper... well... this sets a record...i was moved close to tears in the previous paper... and now just today i was a trembling in my seat trying not to laugh out loud...
and no it was not some lame joke... it was top grade humour...
witty and effective...
i hope...
if not my interpretation of the piece will go down the drain...
oh no!

(all on stage gasp and turn to look at CHARLIE; a traffic accident is heard in the distance, with the car-horn ecoing into silence, and faraway thunder rumbles)

talk about a mock sympathetic background...

the truth ain't too far off either... mefolks are off their heads and having... shall we say...
a lively attempt at resolving a mild disagreement...
mild enough...
perfectly ok... no problems here...
just the small, insignificant, perfectly-understandable-if-it-goes-unnoticed fact that i would rather be somewhere else...

preferably somewhere where i can sing my bloody heart out...

pun intended... brutally-in-your-face so...

my heart is bloody... wouldn't be alive if it wasn't...

back to my wonderful literature faculty that chooses to brighten out muggy lives by giveng us unseens that are so full of human emotion...
both mirth and tears...

oh wait change that... rewind....
ok now replay...

back to the trembling mess that was desperately stifling laughs in today's paper...

i do have to say that the influence of the passage was only so much... the rest of the overflowing laughter that came was...
well... stress...
it puts you on an edge... it frazzles nerve endings... so that as well as having the slightest irritation result in major disagreements... it also makes you break down and laugh... till tears come mind you... at the slightest... most ridiculous things...

haha...

you suddenly see things in a whole new light... hyperclarity sits on your senses like some skin-tight
suit... magnifying even the smallest thing you see, hear or touch...
your eyes seem to open wider... and for a few hours... the tiredness of sleepless nights is doused in adrenaline...
the smallest thing literally sets you alight like as if you were doused in something delightfully flammable...

and no i'm not pyromanic...

ah... this post seems respectably long...
goodie...
well i'll be off now...

hello...
i just flew through Pet Sematary in just over twenty-four hours...
whew...

it was good... yes... pretty good...
now... i hesitate every few minutes half expecting a lurching creature to come cackling into the room...
not daring to look over my shoulder...

haha... good thrill... not cheap thrill like some substandard horror flick...
the type that ends in some bloke waking up from a bad dream and then having to re-live it all over again...
ah whatever...

off to mug...
i hope...
haha...

hello everybody...

i have allowed you all to comment... on my posts... my blog...
feed like the hungry vultures you are on the dry morsels of that still cling on to the bones of my life... and take them, sensationalise them to the juicy bits of gossip... fleshy bits of tabloid news to entertain some and for others to live vicariously off...
thank you...
the things i'd do for my audience...
(Appreciate! he commanded with a flourish of royal ermine, and a brandish of the royal scepter.)

anyway... won another round of solitaire... haha... my life now revolves around big pieces of paper bound together in various notes and books...
and small little bits (virtual mind you) of paper in cards to entertain my late nights...

maybe if i should get my straight As and then give it all up for a wandering life in Vegas... and one day sweep out all the casinos...
get half of Vegas and the whole mafia on my back...
die in a secluded alleyway...
cackling my brains out...
framed up like a moose head in some mafia boss' den...
head grinning...
eyeballs glazing...

ooh excuse me i've been reading Stephen King...
the macabre mode of the writing i suppose is rubbing off on me...

what else is there to say...?

i might be staying up absurdly late to finish reading the book... it is quite chilling actually...
i will have to get down to school on tuesday and wednesday to study my butt off for econs...
i... dunno what else to say...

and i don't think i'm going to boringly (is that a word...?) narrate today's events...
so yes...
'nighty...

woo yes!
i won one round of solitaire!

yes... hello...

you may stop applauding now...
you may also rise... it's preposterous to kneel for all the time...
do it only at appropriate episodes...

there's time for a nice long juicy post today...
goodie...

there's too much to do and too little time... and yes i know every single one of you reading this knows this better than anything... but i still have to say it...
there's too much to do and too little time...
the opportunity cost of doing nothing has risen sharply since the day i was born...
darn...

i'm surfin' around www.greekmythology.com now... soaking in the romance and bloody glory of the greeks...
i will add to the long list things i meant to do but never got down to...
read Homer's Odyssey...

in that list also lies many other things...
read les miserables... or rather continue where i left off...
upgrade my flute...
continue diving...
get a flute tutor...
study music professionally...
perform with the SSO, LSO, Berlin Philharmonic, etc... haha...
conduct in Carnegie, Sydney Opera House, etc... bwahahaha...
let's dream ok... sometimes they do come true...
haha...

ah... been singing a lot these few days... the computer always proves a rapturous audience... so are the walls of my room...

i'm not winning a single game of bloody solitaire...
darn...
let's have another go... haha...

ah... got sick of losing...
another day then...

i'll be off now...
ta...

hello people...
yes it's been a long time...
and no i'm not continuing what i wrote the last post...
i'll leave it as it is to chill all you people...
or as a legacy to my utter failure as a horror writer...

anyways... the calm between the storms...
i'm out of Modern European History...
Prac Crit is on tuesday...
woo life's great...
whee...
whatever...

three w's...

anyways... i have no time nor energy to blog nowadays...
but seeing that i have the entire weekend to slack... and... thank heavens... only two days with papers the next week... i can come now and brighten all yer miserable lives with my rubbish...
so everybody... give me your ears...

blah.
blah.

well that's all folks goodnight and shoo now...
for today my blog shall be a mere boring narration of the time's events...
i need to clear my sleep debt...

He came.


The students were studying, mulling around, minding their own business. There were not many of them in the area, probably less than ten. The weather that day, as those who still can remember, or will remember, was fairly hot; one of those days that seemed like the sun was suspended, the air was still, and everything just stopped and froze in the heat.


Then he came.


He was normally an imposing sight, covered in a single raiment of white. That day, however, he was dressed just as anybody else would. He looked slightly more pleasant than normal, and as if to underline that, when he spoke, the tones were moderated, calm; quieter.

"Err, i have to alert you all," he said, at this point looking around the compound, eyes wide open.

"They will be coming around in a while, the..." he hesitated, as if gesturing at the surrounding furniture could make up for his sudden lack of expression, "fog-people, that is."

The students stared, unclear at the meaning of the statement, but having said so, he quietly suggested that the students leave the area for the moment, head up, elsewhere.


Then he left.


One might be inclined at this point to look at him in disdain, for leaving us all. Yet in such times, those who can go should do just that. The others, the rest, the remaining, we should find our own ways out.

I tried, I can tell you now that I tried. We all did.

I don't know if we should have.


So we left, went up, grabbed a few knick-knacks on the way, enough for a short time away. Notes, food, drink. And we all left. The funny thing is that I never saw all of us leave, some went elsewhere, some stayed behind. I only know something, and don't question me about this, 'cos I'm not going to say it one time more.

I never saw them again. Nobody talked about them then, and no one's talked since, but I know. We all knew.


The walk up was uneventful, we all moved quietly, quickly. The quiet hum grew slowly in intensity, and we walked, guided by our ears alone, away from it.

"So where we headed?" I asked. I didn't think it would be so long, I thought we would be back in a while.

"There's an alcove up two floors. We can go there." One of them suggested that.

"Up? Again? Can't we just stay here," I said again, sitting myself down.

"Yes again. There's space there for all of us. We can stay there till the fog-people are gone." So we left. We headed up, again, up where the fog-people wouldn't go. I should have stayed where I was.

I don't even know why, but I think I shouldn't have gone up.


I can't remember all the details now. It's too long ago, to hard to remember. I know we ended up near the pond. We didn't go to the alcove, whatever, wherever that was. We met another student there. She was alone. It was then that we saw, and we heard.


The fog-people came, and did their work. Carrying long, gunlike, machines that belched out volumes of white fog, they came. The fog didn't look too scary at first, just looked like, well, fog. It came with a smell, pungent, acrid even, it made you fell like the back of your throat was made of rubber.


The fog-people had been around for a while then, and we heard a girl scream. It was sharp, loud, piercing even in that day when the weather was so hot it everything seemed to be suspended and dead. It was cut off, however. Mind you not silenced or muffled. Cut off. Like the girl just disappeared.

Maybe it was the fog, 'cos I remember thinking there wasn't even an echo.

Maybe it was the fog-people.


I think i saw a faint shadow, a silhouette, of that girl. Disappearing quickly into the fog, so fast I wasn't even sure of what i saw.


I can't continue. I've got to rest.

I've got to go now.

Go up.



to be continued...