It didn't feel like our last concert. They always say, once a RISE member, always a RISE member! Yes.
We played Rossini's William Tell, Borodin's Polovetsian Dances, Schumann's Piano Concerto in A minor, and finally Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra.
Rossini had everyone up and going, and it was a big bang to signal the start of the concert. There were thumbs-up going around after Rossini, and we prepared for Schumann's Piano Concerto.
Jon Lim had the entire piece under his hands as he took up this piece for the second time after Braddel Heights (I think). A great performer with a great piano. Great end to a first-half I'll never forget.
We had the interval, where basically we were going around and wishing all the bests to all the performers.
Polovetsian Dances next, the familiar theme came up about 1/4 into the piece, and everyone started. Bass Drum, Double Bass to give the down beat, and the rising double crotchets to the strings and the rest.
Last but not least, Britten. The strings attaching the Gong to its metal frame snapped before the performance of Britten, and the audience went into an 'aww/hor' sigh. Well, we fixed it, and Sze came on stage to give the audience a majestic experience of the Guide. We started with Purcell's Theme (which never fails to give me goosebumps) and then each section gave its own variation of the theme.
Rounded up the entire thing with the combination of Britten's fugue and Purcell's Theme, to give an open-string D-A ending for cellos, which allowed us to leave the notes to vaporize into the air.
For encores, we played Mozart's overture to the Magic Flute. And then we played Elgar's Nimrod from the Enigma Variations .
And lastly we played the Fugue of Britten's Guide again.
After that we went home.
Camp next week.
Yum.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A reflection of my Class at half-time
Often my day starts with five people, Josep...look, I'm not in heaven yet alright? (If you're thinking of the Mitch Albom book). Ok back to the point I had digressed from right at the start.
My day starts with five people I meet in the CLASSROOM, and they are Joseph, Geoffrey, Enghan, Shanghai, and Leon. Occasionally Leon can be ommited, but I'm usually the one who comes later than him. After that BenLow would come into the classroom.
But it doesn't increase much. After assembly, the class would often have about 20 people, compared to the original 28. Look, some people have already quit this class before it even started - in 2007, we were supposed to have 28, but apparently this guy went to the Sports School. Just goes to show how many talented people this class has. But anyway LiYoung joined in last year, so we were back to 28.
I decided to think over it - about our falling grades and low attendance. Could the immense talent potential in this class be the reason? Let's see, we have musicians, artists, poets, thinkers, actors, scripwriters, stage managers in this class.
How can they expect us to excel in the Sciences? Of course they can, there are people who can handle about the Arts and Sciences, realistically speaking. Now these guys are the actual all-rounded Rafflesians. Let's take a look at Index No. 1. Squash player, class goalkeeper, scriptwriter, and 3.6GPAyer. All-rounded Rafflesian.
I'm definitely not an all-rounded Rafflesian, after all this talk. Maybe I am. I'm a chamber musician and pianist, class utility man who doesn't make it to the bench mostly because of music duties, and a above 2 below 3 above 2.5 GPAyer. Looks good enough. I'll mark myself with a B. (index number one being an Aplus.)
Then there's the character part but that one makes life so difficult so I'll skip it, because human life's about making things a little easier for ourselves, one step at a time.
Back to the class population. Of course there comes a time when one gets sick, and when there are unforeseen circumstances, like getting knocked down by a truck, or running in front of a locomotive. So that can be forgiven.
Then there are those who are disgruntled with the school education system, and decide to go MIA for three weeks, which is enough to turn Shide into Byap and Byap into Shide.
Of course there are people who are selectively healthy, an idea which I had taken from Nigel. Being sick for school and suddenly healthy for CCAs or Extra Programmes after school. Which I've nothing against, although I'm not planning to embark on being selectively healthy for the next term, and the term after the next, and subsequently till NS.
And when you have early people like Joseph, Enghan, Shanghai, Geoffrey, Leon and I, or Leon and Benlow, and I, you always have the late people like...! Never mind. My keyboard has reached the end of its warranty period so I'm not going to risk it.
That said we've got people being late for assembly, and we really look like an extraneous group of people that belong to both 4K and 4M. At the lowest, we number around fifteen, just standing in scattered columns, waiting for the late comers to fill in the gaps. But they never do, so we just clump up all in front. Which makes the row look very small.
But I love the class camaraderie. And it is this that matters most to me!
I mean, those around me, love these guys. (as in not romantic love [duh], just really nice people) I probably exude lots of charisma.
Hope my ego doesn't suffocate you. :)
My day starts with five people I meet in the CLASSROOM, and they are Joseph, Geoffrey, Enghan, Shanghai, and Leon. Occasionally Leon can be ommited, but I'm usually the one who comes later than him. After that BenLow would come into the classroom.
But it doesn't increase much. After assembly, the class would often have about 20 people, compared to the original 28. Look, some people have already quit this class before it even started - in 2007, we were supposed to have 28, but apparently this guy went to the Sports School. Just goes to show how many talented people this class has. But anyway LiYoung joined in last year, so we were back to 28.
I decided to think over it - about our falling grades and low attendance. Could the immense talent potential in this class be the reason? Let's see, we have musicians, artists, poets, thinkers, actors, scripwriters, stage managers in this class.
How can they expect us to excel in the Sciences? Of course they can, there are people who can handle about the Arts and Sciences, realistically speaking. Now these guys are the actual all-rounded Rafflesians. Let's take a look at Index No. 1. Squash player, class goalkeeper, scriptwriter, and 3.6GPAyer. All-rounded Rafflesian.
I'm definitely not an all-rounded Rafflesian, after all this talk. Maybe I am. I'm a chamber musician and pianist, class utility man who doesn't make it to the bench mostly because of music duties, and a above 2 below 3 above 2.5 GPAyer. Looks good enough. I'll mark myself with a B. (index number one being an Aplus.)
Then there's the character part but that one makes life so difficult so I'll skip it, because human life's about making things a little easier for ourselves, one step at a time.
Back to the class population. Of course there comes a time when one gets sick, and when there are unforeseen circumstances, like getting knocked down by a truck, or running in front of a locomotive. So that can be forgiven.
Then there are those who are disgruntled with the school education system, and decide to go MIA for three weeks, which is enough to turn Shide into Byap and Byap into Shide.
Of course there are people who are selectively healthy, an idea which I had taken from Nigel. Being sick for school and suddenly healthy for CCAs or Extra Programmes after school. Which I've nothing against, although I'm not planning to embark on being selectively healthy for the next term, and the term after the next, and subsequently till NS.
And when you have early people like Joseph, Enghan, Shanghai, Geoffrey, Leon and I, or Leon and Benlow, and I, you always have the late people like...! Never mind. My keyboard has reached the end of its warranty period so I'm not going to risk it.
That said we've got people being late for assembly, and we really look like an extraneous group of people that belong to both 4K and 4M. At the lowest, we number around fifteen, just standing in scattered columns, waiting for the late comers to fill in the gaps. But they never do, so we just clump up all in front. Which makes the row look very small.
But I love the class camaraderie. And it is this that matters most to me!
I mean, those around me, love these guys. (as in not romantic love [duh], just really nice people) I probably exude lots of charisma.
Hope my ego doesn't suffocate you. :)
Monday, May 26, 2008
Why girls like jerks - Monday Munching
Ok something recently ticked me off (Jonathan gets ticked off? I thought he was mostly a nice guy [who daos sometimes] who doesn't get pissed very often.) Yes it's still true, I don't get pissed very often. Maybe once every 2 months.
And it never lasts for more than a few hours! No one is worth to be so pissing that he takes up a few hours of my life to grumble over.
Here's the article that accompanies this post: Why girls like jerks
[Ok before I start I just googled it while mulling over this matter and immediately saw an article on it. Or rather, several articles on it. I went straight for the jugular, and got to AskMen.com. I wish there was a AskGuysfrom11-20.com or something but that was the only available and cool-looking link I got.)
The only reason I decided to post this article was because I found it a food-for-thought. I do not support any of the statements there (read an important line on 8 December 2007), because when one's got food, share it! So here I am sharing with all you girls and guys.
Here are some snippets from:
__________________________________________________
There seems to be a mystery among the male species, besides their unending quest of trying to figure women out. Why is it that the nice guys always seem to be single while jerks are the ones whose little black books get filled with magical numbers? It seems to go backwards, doesn't it?
There must be more out there to justify why women are left crying their eyes out because their boyfriends hurt them once again. And of course, the girl goes back to the bad boy, while the sweet boy is left in the corner of the bar dipping his olives in and out of his martini. Yes Curt, you are right; in order for a man to develop a backbone and become more of a bad boy, in the hopes of attracting more women, he does have to be badly hurt once. However, there is a lot more to it than that. Observe.self-esteem goes a long wayIt doesn't take a dozen self-help books and men's magazines to tell you how important self-esteem is when it comes to relationships and behavior. When it comes down to the enigma of the sweet girl and the bad boy, the man isn't the only one plagued by low self-esteem. The union of this couple can be blamed on lack of self-confidence where both parties are concerned.
There are many reasons why men are jerks to begin with. First, they can simply be born to fit the character and their loser behavior can be blamed purely on a genetic disaster and negative social environment. If we have a problem, we'll just have to take it up with his DNA. The second reason can be what Curt was referring to; the nice guy turns bad boy because of heartache. In this case, the guy becomes a jerk because he's been burned in the past and doesn't want this to happen again.
The third reason is the major one, partly related to reason number two; he simply has no self-esteem. This poor man needs to act like a jerk to cover up his lack of confidence. It's a sad, sad case. Ironically, most people would think that he is a jerk because he has too much confidence (this could also be the case), but this is where we are fooled most of the time. We can't imagine that this jerk actually has a low self-esteem because he is so insensitive towards everyone around him.
Not only is he a jerk, he is also a great actor. His bad boy demeanor is his shield; the weapon that gives the illusion of confidence. But most importantly, it ensures that he will never get hurt. His snide remarks and sarcasm are used as defense mechanisms, kind of how a skunk releases a stench to ward off those who may be a threat.
I still stand by the fact that the woman who falls for the jerk is most likely to suffer from low self-esteem, but there could be another very important reason. In case men haven't noticed, women love playing the role of the relationship therapist. That's right, some women would do anything just to have the chance to get others to pour out their troubles, while they attribute most problems to an Oedipal pre-adolescent complex. Most women love to know that they're the ones who discovered the solution to their boyfriends' problems and, in turn, healed them (so to speak).
To do this, they need a troubled soul to lie down in that leather couch; the jerk boyfriend. Most girls love to know that they "fixed" their jerk boyfriend. He was once a bad boy, but now he is a sweetheart and he's a changed man, all thanks to her. Yes, this is the challenge most women enjoy seeking, an incredible feat where they claim to have turned a lost soul around. If a man was perfect to begin with, what would be so exciting in the relationship? Women would be bored and they would probably have to create non-existent problems in the relationship to spruce things up a little.
______________________________________________
Back to Jonathan Shin. Of course, we don't know what's on women's minds, but this is as much as we guys have guessed, all placed right in front of us. It's up to the girls to argue and say whay they think of the article.
AND THEN, I backtracked. I realised all these originated from an uber cool article called 'Nice Guys finish Last'.
Here it is:
_____________________________________________
A wise man once told me, "As a man, you have to die once in order to live." I never fully appreciated his advice, nor did I understand it until I experienced it firsthand. From that time on, I understood the origins of the Jerk vs. Nice Guy battle.
There must be more out there to justify why women are left crying their eyes out because their boyfriends hurt them once again. And of course, the girl goes back to the bad boy, while the sweet boy is left in the corner of the bar dipping his olives in and out of his martini. Yes Curt, you are right; in order for a man to develop a backbone and become more of a bad boy, in the hopes of attracting more women, he does have to be badly hurt once. However, there is a lot more to it than that. Observe.
The only problem with being the nice guy is that you also become the boring, predictable guy. The excitement of the seduction process begins to fade for the woman because she has what she wants and doesn't have to do any chasing. Eventually the woman starts losing interest and before you know it, her eyes start to wander.
In the end, she'll look for a new man who will bring excitement back into her life by being the "new and improved" challenge. Pursuit and excitement usually stem from selfish attitudes, much like the bad boy who doesn't care about anyone but himself. The nice guy will be left heartbroken and will start wondering what in the world he did wrong.
It's at this point that men begin to realize that most women generally don't know what they want from us. Evidently, being the nice guy certainly doesn't help. The conclusion of the aforementioned scenario? The death of the nice guy persona. So that's the life and death of the nice guy and, as a result, "Mr. Nice" is resurrected into "Mr. Jerk".
Eventually (often quite quickly), these nice guys will realize what type of man women actually want. The result is something that snaps inside of them as they begin to mimic the jerks that most women seem to pursue incessantly.
To become that kind of man, the charade must be taken to the extreme, which involves acting like a selfish person that has no regard for other people's feelings. This amounts to a jerk that will say anything to get a woman into bed. The jerk will furnish her with tons of roller coaster emotions and once he has sex with her, he'll dump her. Why? Because he feels vengeful and wants to burn women the same way he was burned. Remember; once you get burned, don't STOP playing with fire -- you TAME the flame.
So when women inadvertently give life to these jerks, they are really shooting themselves in the feet. That's the life and legacy of jerks everywhere.
FOR NICE GUYS
If nice guys are what women really want, then why is it that most nice guys are single? Why is it that we constantly hear stories about women dating big jerks that took them for a ride -- literally?
The fact is that women generally don't want nice guys, or maybe they're too busy chasing after jerks to realize that they do. Why? Because women act on impulse and emotion rather than fact. Who do you suppose brings out these same irrepressible emotions in women? The jerks, of course.
So what does this all add up to? No one wants to get hurt, but in the same instance, no one wants to be perceived as a jerk either. That is why it's important to have a balanced attitude towards relationships. A man has to be able to court a woman, amuse her and excite her while continuously remaining a challenge.
In other words, be nice to women, but remember who comes first in life; you, your irreplaceable family and friends, and then your woman. By following my theory, women will constantly be in hot pursuit. If you would like a female's opinion regarding this matter, go see The Jerk Appeal.
________________________________________________________
THE END - I hope I'm not a jerk now for posting this. Maybe I am a jerk. Or am I a nice guy? Or should I just not talk to any girls...
And it never lasts for more than a few hours! No one is worth to be so pissing that he takes up a few hours of my life to grumble over.
Here's the article that accompanies this post: Why girls like jerks
[Ok before I start I just googled it while mulling over this matter and immediately saw an article on it. Or rather, several articles on it. I went straight for the jugular, and got to AskMen.com. I wish there was a AskGuysfrom11-20.com or something but that was the only available and cool-looking link I got.)
The only reason I decided to post this article was because I found it a food-for-thought. I do not support any of the statements there (read an important line on 8 December 2007), because when one's got food, share it! So here I am sharing with all you girls and guys.
Here are some snippets from:
__________________________________________________
There seems to be a mystery among the male species, besides their unending quest of trying to figure women out. Why is it that the nice guys always seem to be single while jerks are the ones whose little black books get filled with magical numbers? It seems to go backwards, doesn't it?
There must be more out there to justify why women are left crying their eyes out because their boyfriends hurt them once again. And of course, the girl goes back to the bad boy, while the sweet boy is left in the corner of the bar dipping his olives in and out of his martini. Yes Curt, you are right; in order for a man to develop a backbone and become more of a bad boy, in the hopes of attracting more women, he does have to be badly hurt once. However, there is a lot more to it than that. Observe.self-esteem goes a long wayIt doesn't take a dozen self-help books and men's magazines to tell you how important self-esteem is when it comes to relationships and behavior. When it comes down to the enigma of the sweet girl and the bad boy, the man isn't the only one plagued by low self-esteem. The union of this couple can be blamed on lack of self-confidence where both parties are concerned.
There are many reasons why men are jerks to begin with. First, they can simply be born to fit the character and their loser behavior can be blamed purely on a genetic disaster and negative social environment. If we have a problem, we'll just have to take it up with his DNA. The second reason can be what Curt was referring to; the nice guy turns bad boy because of heartache. In this case, the guy becomes a jerk because he's been burned in the past and doesn't want this to happen again.
The third reason is the major one, partly related to reason number two; he simply has no self-esteem. This poor man needs to act like a jerk to cover up his lack of confidence. It's a sad, sad case. Ironically, most people would think that he is a jerk because he has too much confidence (this could also be the case), but this is where we are fooled most of the time. We can't imagine that this jerk actually has a low self-esteem because he is so insensitive towards everyone around him.
Not only is he a jerk, he is also a great actor. His bad boy demeanor is his shield; the weapon that gives the illusion of confidence. But most importantly, it ensures that he will never get hurt. His snide remarks and sarcasm are used as defense mechanisms, kind of how a skunk releases a stench to ward off those who may be a threat.
I still stand by the fact that the woman who falls for the jerk is most likely to suffer from low self-esteem, but there could be another very important reason. In case men haven't noticed, women love playing the role of the relationship therapist. That's right, some women would do anything just to have the chance to get others to pour out their troubles, while they attribute most problems to an Oedipal pre-adolescent complex. Most women love to know that they're the ones who discovered the solution to their boyfriends' problems and, in turn, healed them (so to speak).
To do this, they need a troubled soul to lie down in that leather couch; the jerk boyfriend. Most girls love to know that they "fixed" their jerk boyfriend. He was once a bad boy, but now he is a sweetheart and he's a changed man, all thanks to her. Yes, this is the challenge most women enjoy seeking, an incredible feat where they claim to have turned a lost soul around. If a man was perfect to begin with, what would be so exciting in the relationship? Women would be bored and they would probably have to create non-existent problems in the relationship to spruce things up a little.
______________________________________________
Back to Jonathan Shin. Of course, we don't know what's on women's minds, but this is as much as we guys have guessed, all placed right in front of us. It's up to the girls to argue and say whay they think of the article.
AND THEN, I backtracked. I realised all these originated from an uber cool article called 'Nice Guys finish Last'.
Here it is:
_____________________________________________
A wise man once told me, "As a man, you have to die once in order to live." I never fully appreciated his advice, nor did I understand it until I experienced it firsthand. From that time on, I understood the origins of the Jerk vs. Nice Guy battle.
There must be more out there to justify why women are left crying their eyes out because their boyfriends hurt them once again. And of course, the girl goes back to the bad boy, while the sweet boy is left in the corner of the bar dipping his olives in and out of his martini. Yes Curt, you are right; in order for a man to develop a backbone and become more of a bad boy, in the hopes of attracting more women, he does have to be badly hurt once. However, there is a lot more to it than that. Observe.
The only problem with being the nice guy is that you also become the boring, predictable guy. The excitement of the seduction process begins to fade for the woman because she has what she wants and doesn't have to do any chasing. Eventually the woman starts losing interest and before you know it, her eyes start to wander.
In the end, she'll look for a new man who will bring excitement back into her life by being the "new and improved" challenge. Pursuit and excitement usually stem from selfish attitudes, much like the bad boy who doesn't care about anyone but himself. The nice guy will be left heartbroken and will start wondering what in the world he did wrong.
It's at this point that men begin to realize that most women generally don't know what they want from us. Evidently, being the nice guy certainly doesn't help. The conclusion of the aforementioned scenario? The death of the nice guy persona. So that's the life and death of the nice guy and, as a result, "Mr. Nice" is resurrected into "Mr. Jerk".
Eventually (often quite quickly), these nice guys will realize what type of man women actually want. The result is something that snaps inside of them as they begin to mimic the jerks that most women seem to pursue incessantly.
To become that kind of man, the charade must be taken to the extreme, which involves acting like a selfish person that has no regard for other people's feelings. This amounts to a jerk that will say anything to get a woman into bed. The jerk will furnish her with tons of roller coaster emotions and once he has sex with her, he'll dump her. Why? Because he feels vengeful and wants to burn women the same way he was burned. Remember; once you get burned, don't STOP playing with fire -- you TAME the flame.
So when women inadvertently give life to these jerks, they are really shooting themselves in the feet. That's the life and legacy of jerks everywhere.
FOR NICE GUYS
If nice guys are what women really want, then why is it that most nice guys are single? Why is it that we constantly hear stories about women dating big jerks that took them for a ride -- literally?
The fact is that women generally don't want nice guys, or maybe they're too busy chasing after jerks to realize that they do. Why? Because women act on impulse and emotion rather than fact. Who do you suppose brings out these same irrepressible emotions in women? The jerks, of course.
So what does this all add up to? No one wants to get hurt, but in the same instance, no one wants to be perceived as a jerk either. That is why it's important to have a balanced attitude towards relationships. A man has to be able to court a woman, amuse her and excite her while continuously remaining a challenge.
In other words, be nice to women, but remember who comes first in life; you, your irreplaceable family and friends, and then your woman. By following my theory, women will constantly be in hot pursuit. If you would like a female's opinion regarding this matter, go see The Jerk Appeal.
________________________________________________________
THE END - I hope I'm not a jerk now for posting this. Maybe I am a jerk. Or am I a nice guy? Or should I just not talk to any girls...
Sunday, May 25, 2008
First-time things, stupid things
Evening brothers and sisters, today I bring you the word of how stupid and gullible I can become.
You see brothers and sisters, sometimes we go into moments of stupidity, where we do not notice what we have done and then we pay for the consequences later. Just like what happened today, and another incident I recall that happened last year in New York.
So today Dr Hecht, my dad and I went shopping for cooking utensils - you name, we shopped it. We went to look for pots and pans, ovens, toasters, and steam cookers. And well you know sometimes guys do get bored when guys aren't given anything to play with or look at, and I am a guy. The uncles were looking at prices and looking at the equipments, while I sat down at a nearby counter. And then I saw the knife section.
I walked away immediately, thinking of how dangerous knives could be.
No, knives were dangerous, if one of them dropped somewhere you didn't want them to drop, you would be doomed. Just like how I was cutting stuff with a penknife two years ago when it suddenly decided to aim for a terrible direction. Didn't know I had a sentient penknife...
But then I thought, look, I've never known the sharpness of a knife and so I decided to walk over and...
I awoke two hours later. Just kidding. Then there was a slight cut on my thumb, and I could see the flesh underneath my skin. Alright, so this is how a cut feels like - a sharp stinging pain and a withdrawal, and then a triumphant immature smile to the entire world that one has actually survived a cut from a knife!
Unfortunately they didn't stock up much on the champagne, so I didn't get to celebrate.
And in-case you're wondering what happened in New York, I was gullible enough to fall for the words of a Secondary 1. I'm too trusting man...but since then I've become more realistic. I've moved on to knives for the moment. Next time I'll get to experience how a grenade feels like, but that will be in two years time. And four years later I'll go for a car. And...oh wait will I survive from the grenade?
Let us remember the words that there are things that should never have a first-time, like drugs, smoking, and cutting oneself with a knife out of pure curiosity.
But today, there was another first time - exploring.
On my way to tuition at 5, I decided to tell my dad to stop at a meadow around Thompson Road. The place was about 600m big, enough for me to explore around. So this large meadow had trees, holes, hills, statues, birds, insects, and old gates. And it was around 4.15pm, and the grass was damp and fresh-smelling.
And of course, this place is accesible to ALL Rafflesians coming in front Lornie Road passing Mt. Alvernia Hospital and over the bridge, before turning right in the morning to Moulmein road and the fire station and finally reaching Raffles Institution. If you're at the traffic light before turning right, simply look to your left and you'll see a meadow with a couple of stumps and trees and rocks.
I started my journey with hesitation, particularly because I didn't want my shoes to get all wet. And then I started to trudge uphill, when I chanced upon rocky ground, and proceeded to kick some rocks around. Suddenly I saw a small person about 12:1 in size. And then...he just disappeared. We'll forget about that part.
So anyway I marched uphill, and I came upon a small hole! There wasn't anything in the hole, but I believed it went some distance because it looked pretty deep to me from above ground.
I wanted to put my camera phone in front of the hole and take a flash photo, but sometimes its not worth going for the first time because you never know what you'll see in the brightness. So I took a photo from afar and placed a Kopitiam card beside the hole for scale purposes.
The only reason you can't see the photos now is because I'm lazy enough not to take out the cable. But RI guys who want to see the photos can come forward and beg me for the photos.
So I passed the hole and lo and behole, I mean behold, I saw a rare bird that was blue in colour, had a long beak, and produced the chirp of the most beautiful quality. I took a photo of it, and it immediately proved that Fiona was right about the macro shots - the bird was stunning. Unfortunately I just looked at it again and it looked pretty grainy. Sometimes Nokia pisses the nicest guys off. And girls too.
Uphill I went until I came to the edge of the outer forest that surrounds MacRitchie Reservoir. To the left was a huge slope that led to the green soft-metal barriers
below to a row of terrace houses belonging to ang-mohs. There was a huge 'crater' between these green gate-barriers (those common ones found everywhere lah) and the houses.
And in the middle of the grassy 'crater' was a tree, a huge tree that had its crown to my waist. I definitely couldn't reach the tree, since it was beyond the green barriers, but it looked like a good spot to lie under and take a short nap.
To my right was an apartment that was roughly 20 stories high, and it was protected by the green barriers (not the same one, but the same type). Of course, with rain and metal reacting, you'll never fail to see a few collaspes of these barriers. And coincedentally there was a gap! I went over this small hill and on this small hill was the barrier, and I crossed over it into this new piece of protected land.
I was hoping there weren't any dogs around to sniff my honey fragrance, because if there were, I wouldn't be here typing. I would probably be gloating over how I beat up those dogs and sent them back to their houses whimpering. No! I don't beat up dogs, because I'm a nice guy, In fact, I love (both) dogs (and cats :) yes Dr Hecht).
So I walked around, but it was so boring because there were no trees, just a huge looming building that was old with age. Nearly 30 years old. I hope they knock it down soon, because this building's really too old. We just need someone to accidently fall down at the void deck and the whole place would probably cave in or something.
I made my way back, and accidently fell into a concrete empty space for vehicles that were delivering things. What an ulu place - if you were wondering how was this possible, it's because I had been going uphill, so much so that they could build a small space for trucks to reverse into at the side of the hill. One more step forward and I would have fell into this cavity and get locked in.
Anyway my shoes were getting wet enough, because I was walking in damp grass that was deep and long. On my way back, I looked at some of the trees, and spotted some statues that were of Buddhist origins. Of course, Buddhists believe that some people who pass on take into forms of trees and bushes, so next time before you decide you need to pee at a tree root, think twice! You may just wake up the next morning to find that you've got an extra limb that has gone MIA!
I made my way back to the car, and the exploring was over. My first time exploring in Singapore all alone!
Just remember, don't do anything stupid, my brothers and sisters! If you're planning to do something for the first time, always ask someone who's experienced, let's say if you're wondering how a grenade feels like, then you can ask the....
You see brothers and sisters, sometimes we go into moments of stupidity, where we do not notice what we have done and then we pay for the consequences later. Just like what happened today, and another incident I recall that happened last year in New York.
So today Dr Hecht, my dad and I went shopping for cooking utensils - you name, we shopped it. We went to look for pots and pans, ovens, toasters, and steam cookers. And well you know sometimes guys do get bored when guys aren't given anything to play with or look at, and I am a guy. The uncles were looking at prices and looking at the equipments, while I sat down at a nearby counter. And then I saw the knife section.
I walked away immediately, thinking of how dangerous knives could be.
No, knives were dangerous, if one of them dropped somewhere you didn't want them to drop, you would be doomed. Just like how I was cutting stuff with a penknife two years ago when it suddenly decided to aim for a terrible direction. Didn't know I had a sentient penknife...
But then I thought, look, I've never known the sharpness of a knife and so I decided to walk over and...
I awoke two hours later. Just kidding. Then there was a slight cut on my thumb, and I could see the flesh underneath my skin. Alright, so this is how a cut feels like - a sharp stinging pain and a withdrawal, and then a triumphant immature smile to the entire world that one has actually survived a cut from a knife!
Unfortunately they didn't stock up much on the champagne, so I didn't get to celebrate.
And in-case you're wondering what happened in New York, I was gullible enough to fall for the words of a Secondary 1. I'm too trusting man...but since then I've become more realistic. I've moved on to knives for the moment. Next time I'll get to experience how a grenade feels like, but that will be in two years time. And four years later I'll go for a car. And...oh wait will I survive from the grenade?
Let us remember the words that there are things that should never have a first-time, like drugs, smoking, and cutting oneself with a knife out of pure curiosity.
But today, there was another first time - exploring.
On my way to tuition at 5, I decided to tell my dad to stop at a meadow around Thompson Road. The place was about 600m big, enough for me to explore around. So this large meadow had trees, holes, hills, statues, birds, insects, and old gates. And it was around 4.15pm, and the grass was damp and fresh-smelling.
And of course, this place is accesible to ALL Rafflesians coming in front Lornie Road passing Mt. Alvernia Hospital and over the bridge, before turning right in the morning to Moulmein road and the fire station and finally reaching Raffles Institution. If you're at the traffic light before turning right, simply look to your left and you'll see a meadow with a couple of stumps and trees and rocks.
I started my journey with hesitation, particularly because I didn't want my shoes to get all wet. And then I started to trudge uphill, when I chanced upon rocky ground, and proceeded to kick some rocks around. Suddenly I saw a small person about 12:1 in size. And then...he just disappeared. We'll forget about that part.
So anyway I marched uphill, and I came upon a small hole! There wasn't anything in the hole, but I believed it went some distance because it looked pretty deep to me from above ground.
I wanted to put my camera phone in front of the hole and take a flash photo, but sometimes its not worth going for the first time because you never know what you'll see in the brightness. So I took a photo from afar and placed a Kopitiam card beside the hole for scale purposes.
The only reason you can't see the photos now is because I'm lazy enough not to take out the cable. But RI guys who want to see the photos can come forward and beg me for the photos.
So I passed the hole and lo and behole, I mean behold, I saw a rare bird that was blue in colour, had a long beak, and produced the chirp of the most beautiful quality. I took a photo of it, and it immediately proved that Fiona was right about the macro shots - the bird was stunning. Unfortunately I just looked at it again and it looked pretty grainy. Sometimes Nokia pisses the nicest guys off. And girls too.
Uphill I went until I came to the edge of the outer forest that surrounds MacRitchie Reservoir. To the left was a huge slope that led to the green soft-metal barriers
below to a row of terrace houses belonging to ang-mohs. There was a huge 'crater' between these green gate-barriers (those common ones found everywhere lah) and the houses.
And in the middle of the grassy 'crater' was a tree, a huge tree that had its crown to my waist. I definitely couldn't reach the tree, since it was beyond the green barriers, but it looked like a good spot to lie under and take a short nap.
To my right was an apartment that was roughly 20 stories high, and it was protected by the green barriers (not the same one, but the same type). Of course, with rain and metal reacting, you'll never fail to see a few collaspes of these barriers. And coincedentally there was a gap! I went over this small hill and on this small hill was the barrier, and I crossed over it into this new piece of protected land.
I was hoping there weren't any dogs around to sniff my honey fragrance, because if there were, I wouldn't be here typing. I would probably be gloating over how I beat up those dogs and sent them back to their houses whimpering. No! I don't beat up dogs, because I'm a nice guy, In fact, I love (both) dogs (and cats :) yes Dr Hecht).
So I walked around, but it was so boring because there were no trees, just a huge looming building that was old with age. Nearly 30 years old. I hope they knock it down soon, because this building's really too old. We just need someone to accidently fall down at the void deck and the whole place would probably cave in or something.
I made my way back, and accidently fell into a concrete empty space for vehicles that were delivering things. What an ulu place - if you were wondering how was this possible, it's because I had been going uphill, so much so that they could build a small space for trucks to reverse into at the side of the hill. One more step forward and I would have fell into this cavity and get locked in.
Anyway my shoes were getting wet enough, because I was walking in damp grass that was deep and long. On my way back, I looked at some of the trees, and spotted some statues that were of Buddhist origins. Of course, Buddhists believe that some people who pass on take into forms of trees and bushes, so next time before you decide you need to pee at a tree root, think twice! You may just wake up the next morning to find that you've got an extra limb that has gone MIA!
I made my way back to the car, and the exploring was over. My first time exploring in Singapore all alone!
Just remember, don't do anything stupid, my brothers and sisters! If you're planning to do something for the first time, always ask someone who's experienced, let's say if you're wondering how a grenade feels like, then you can ask the....
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Founder's Day simply never fails
Founder's Day never fails to make people like me go depressed. You see, the main part of Founder's Day lies only in the prize-giving ceremony, and even dignitaries like Mr. K Shanmugan (Singapore's Law Minister) who came over to grace the ceremony was hardly given any notice.
Well I admit I was giving him some notice, since he was the only other person who didn't had this effect of putting me to shame with my lack of awards. As with the other people around me.
Then there were those who went for multiple appearance, people like Barry Tng, Nigel Fong, Paul Tern. Even Theophilus Kwek was on the list! Which isn't much of a surprise.
So Mr. Shanmugan started off with some jokes to lighten the mood, which was already filled with much festivity considering how we sang the Founder's Day song with much aplomb and with heartiness. And then there was the competition at the end between the JC1 Rafflesians and the Sec 4 Rafflesians, where they sang their batch song, and we started with ours.
Not criminal or anything, and all done in the name of good fun - we work hard and play hard. And today was officially the last day of school leading to the June holidays! Here's how Jonathan Shin will spend his holidays:
1) Practise piano with laser-beam accuracy (as what Dr Hecht said when he used to practise)
2) Complete all overdue assignments
3) Go to social gatherings and class parties
4) Complete all due assignments
So here I am, completing my English portfolio. I've yet to complete (read: complete, not start) my English argumentative essay, of which I have managed to maintain the same level of ENTHUSIASM since I first heard of this project.
Which is good.
5) Complete my RE and do the recording for it by end of June
Watching movies of the 80s are amusing. The fight scenes are littered with yells and screams, unneccesary moves and unneccesary speech. And then we have the stereotypes of the 80s, where the terrorists were the Arabs and they talked in an Arab accent. The actors didn't do a good job portraying the terrorists though - some of the raw emotions just don't come out. Well if you're going for pure raw then I suggest Lust, Caution might be the correct movie.
Unfortunately the director wasn't Ang Lee, and this movie was a B-flick, so the choreographing was pretty bad and the photography too. And after all this rambling, you would definitely be wondering what this movie's about.
It's Air Marshal.
There are so many criticisms of this movie that I have to get a new printer to print out the waiting numbers. Let's take for example the CGI graphics of the plane itself. Well since the plane's being hijacked, we need to show exteriors of the plane. And it totally sucked, because it was so obviously CGI and in fact blatantly trying to tell us that directors put this computer model in while they were on Tiger Beer. And they didn't bother to check whether it would turn out ok.
And then the terrorists in the plane seem to pop out from nowhere. I could easily count more than half a dozen terrorists. Now tell me which organization would bother to put so many terrorists in one plane...Don't they know that one should not put all their eggs in one basket?
Wouldn't bother to rate it unless someone treats me to an ice-cream. And a bottle of abalone.
Then again we'll have to be realistic and note that this movie was made with a budget - not everyone is as rich as I am. With movies made with THAT kind of money, it's got to be a movie you catch while you realise you've all the time in the world. Which I don't have! But I watched it anyway.
Is this why people like Nigel Fong and Barry Tng have their own places on the stage? Their discipline? I don't think so. I just like to think they naturally have a gift for mathematics or science, and they work towards honing that skill. If only. If only Raffles Institution had an award for just practical. Then again music is a humanities subject - it consists of geography, literature, history and art.
Simply excelling in one department isn't good enough to book a place on stage with Mr. Shanmugan!
Simply excelling in one department of music isn't healthy!
Simply excelling in one department of music...makes me depressed.
Not really though. It works to be an optimist!
Well I admit I was giving him some notice, since he was the only other person who didn't had this effect of putting me to shame with my lack of awards. As with the other people around me.
Then there were those who went for multiple appearance, people like Barry Tng, Nigel Fong, Paul Tern. Even Theophilus Kwek was on the list! Which isn't much of a surprise.
So Mr. Shanmugan started off with some jokes to lighten the mood, which was already filled with much festivity considering how we sang the Founder's Day song with much aplomb and with heartiness. And then there was the competition at the end between the JC1 Rafflesians and the Sec 4 Rafflesians, where they sang their batch song, and we started with ours.
Not criminal or anything, and all done in the name of good fun - we work hard and play hard. And today was officially the last day of school leading to the June holidays! Here's how Jonathan Shin will spend his holidays:
1) Practise piano with laser-beam accuracy (as what Dr Hecht said when he used to practise)
2) Complete all overdue assignments
3) Go to social gatherings and class parties
4) Complete all due assignments
So here I am, completing my English portfolio. I've yet to complete (read: complete, not start) my English argumentative essay, of which I have managed to maintain the same level of ENTHUSIASM since I first heard of this project.
Which is good.
5) Complete my RE and do the recording for it by end of June
Watching movies of the 80s are amusing. The fight scenes are littered with yells and screams, unneccesary moves and unneccesary speech. And then we have the stereotypes of the 80s, where the terrorists were the Arabs and they talked in an Arab accent. The actors didn't do a good job portraying the terrorists though - some of the raw emotions just don't come out. Well if you're going for pure raw then I suggest Lust, Caution might be the correct movie.
Unfortunately the director wasn't Ang Lee, and this movie was a B-flick, so the choreographing was pretty bad and the photography too. And after all this rambling, you would definitely be wondering what this movie's about.
It's Air Marshal.
There are so many criticisms of this movie that I have to get a new printer to print out the waiting numbers. Let's take for example the CGI graphics of the plane itself. Well since the plane's being hijacked, we need to show exteriors of the plane. And it totally sucked, because it was so obviously CGI and in fact blatantly trying to tell us that directors put this computer model in while they were on Tiger Beer. And they didn't bother to check whether it would turn out ok.
And then the terrorists in the plane seem to pop out from nowhere. I could easily count more than half a dozen terrorists. Now tell me which organization would bother to put so many terrorists in one plane...Don't they know that one should not put all their eggs in one basket?
Wouldn't bother to rate it unless someone treats me to an ice-cream. And a bottle of abalone.
Then again we'll have to be realistic and note that this movie was made with a budget - not everyone is as rich as I am. With movies made with THAT kind of money, it's got to be a movie you catch while you realise you've all the time in the world. Which I don't have! But I watched it anyway.
Is this why people like Nigel Fong and Barry Tng have their own places on the stage? Their discipline? I don't think so. I just like to think they naturally have a gift for mathematics or science, and they work towards honing that skill. If only. If only Raffles Institution had an award for just practical. Then again music is a humanities subject - it consists of geography, literature, history and art.
Simply excelling in one department isn't good enough to book a place on stage with Mr. Shanmugan!
Simply excelling in one department of music isn't healthy!
Simply excelling in one department of music...makes me depressed.
Not really though. It works to be an optimist!
Monday, May 19, 2008
quiz
The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test
The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com
Oh in case anyone was thinking what the last post was about, it was a writing I wrote in Secondary 3, when I was still novice at crafting out stories. I got 26/30! In comparison to what the TheoKwek can do now, the difference is vast. He's just Secondary Two! Here's a nice line from his latest poem:
But.
Boys
have never made good
Embroideres,
and neither have
Guns
made good
Needles.
They were right - the world is unfair.
And the interesting part is how we all each try to accept it, and how some of us fight against it. I just realised I've not talked philosophical shit for a long time, and I'm not looking forward to spewing philosophical crap on MSN or even in real-life. I like to see how everyone has their different philosophies towards life, and how they base their lives on these philosophies. Yeah!
Today my dad and I went IKEA to get a new cupboard for me to put all my scores in. So in goes the Baroque Bach things, Classical Beethoven and Mozart, Romantic Chopin Etudes and Liszt Hungarian Dances, Modern Debussy Etudes and of course much more. Dinner there was pretty embarassing - my dad's style of 'bochap people looking at us' and 'as long as we get to eat' mentality is so different from mine. But I felt both stupid and good.
If you know IKEA uses these special tray trollies that can be dragged around. And we couldn't find a table, so we took on of these trollies and started eating at the side. Ok there probably was a grin or two from other diners there because they were thinking how smart we were, or even practical. But man there were smirks and of course sniggers on how we couldn't find a seat ourselves and had to sit at the side.
Well to be honest the tray was pretty comfortable because we were sitting at the side, with our glasses on the platform, and we were just drinking and eating as if it were no one's business.
It wasn't anyone's really!
And I'm sure my mum's around us all the time. Apparently she went into my dad's dreams and told him that there would be no tuition for the month of June, just like she has always done for the past years. So don't pay the fees! So like my mum. Thanks mum!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very High |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | High |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Moderate |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Very Low |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Very Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Very Low |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Very Low |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Low |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Moderate |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Very Low |
Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test
| Greed: | Very Low | |
| Gluttony: | Medium | |
| Wrath: | Low | |
| Sloth: | Very Low | |
| Envy: | Very Low | |
| Lust: | Low | |
| Pride: | Medium |
The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com
Oh in case anyone was thinking what the last post was about, it was a writing I wrote in Secondary 3, when I was still novice at crafting out stories. I got 26/30! In comparison to what the TheoKwek can do now, the difference is vast. He's just Secondary Two! Here's a nice line from his latest poem:
But.
Boys
have never made good
Embroideres,
and neither have
Guns
made good
Needles.
They were right - the world is unfair.
And the interesting part is how we all each try to accept it, and how some of us fight against it. I just realised I've not talked philosophical shit for a long time, and I'm not looking forward to spewing philosophical crap on MSN or even in real-life. I like to see how everyone has their different philosophies towards life, and how they base their lives on these philosophies. Yeah!
Today my dad and I went IKEA to get a new cupboard for me to put all my scores in. So in goes the Baroque Bach things, Classical Beethoven and Mozart, Romantic Chopin Etudes and Liszt Hungarian Dances, Modern Debussy Etudes and of course much more. Dinner there was pretty embarassing - my dad's style of 'bochap people looking at us' and 'as long as we get to eat' mentality is so different from mine. But I felt both stupid and good.
If you know IKEA uses these special tray trollies that can be dragged around. And we couldn't find a table, so we took on of these trollies and started eating at the side. Ok there probably was a grin or two from other diners there because they were thinking how smart we were, or even practical. But man there were smirks and of course sniggers on how we couldn't find a seat ourselves and had to sit at the side.
Well to be honest the tray was pretty comfortable because we were sitting at the side, with our glasses on the platform, and we were just drinking and eating as if it were no one's business.
It wasn't anyone's really!
And I'm sure my mum's around us all the time. Apparently she went into my dad's dreams and told him that there would be no tuition for the month of June, just like she has always done for the past years. So don't pay the fees! So like my mum. Thanks mum!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Tying Shoelaces
Everyone wears shoes. At least everyone living in the fast-paced hub we call Singapore. Wearing shoes is one thing – tying shoelaces together is another. And tying shoelaces, I must say, is something that is equivalent to Singapore winning the World Cup, at least for me.
Since the day I started wearing shoes, the shoes were fitted in and then tied by my mother. This was a scene I always saw, me sitting on the red stool situated outside my house, and my mum kneeling in front of me, fingers as quick as lightning, tying the shoelaces as if she were doing another daily chore, like tying up the entrance of the garbage bag. This went on of years, and soon I could memorize all the steps needed to eat my breakfast, pack up my bag, put on my shoes, and get out of the house.
Except the part where I tie my shoelaces.
My attempts to tie these white strings together were futile, and my inability to tie them together was even more embarrassing.
I remember those times in shopping centres, where those two long pieces of cloth refused to hold on to one another. I had to face two embarrassing moments; the first would be to trip and fall, and the second would be too wait for my mum to tie my shoelaces for me.
And the problem? It was all done in public.
I remember those moments, where upon realizing my laces were loose, I would proceed to shuffle to the nearest toilet or pillar, and repeat the process of failing to tie those shoelaces. I tried many different knots, so many that I think those scouts would have been shamed when they had seen me, all crunched up and sweaty with the attempts, which should have, by then, numbered to a hundred.
That time, I was eleven, a primary school child who saw all his peers tying shoelaces with ease.
It became a personal goal. I chose a day, and decided it would be the day I could simply bend down, move my fingers over those strings, and voila! My shoes would then be smiling at my accomplishment. I would be beaming with joy, those shoelaces finally under my hand, under my control.
I summoned my mother, and in a straight and strict voice I said, "Mum, I am going to learn how to tie my shoelaces by today. If you don't teach me, I shall commit suicide." (In primary school the words 'committing suicide' seemed to be an excellent threat, and it was actually the 'in-thing' in those days)
"Why do you make such a sudden request?"
"Never mind about that, I want you to teach me, otherwise…I'll commit suicide!"
And so the tired mum brought me outside the house and placed me on the same red stool. She took those shoes out again, the very same shoes I vowed that I would someday force into submission. I slipped my feet quietly with anticipation, and prepared myself for the quest I was about to undertake.
"Ok first, you turn the shoelaces like this."
Within seconds, the first part of tying shoelaces was over. Her hands moved with such dexterity that I was able to see nothing but a blur of beige over a patch of white.
"Huh? Huh! Wait I didn't see a single thing! How do you expect me to tie shoelaces! Can you do it again or not?" Fragments of the famed Singaporean-English (also known as Singlish) started to crawl out of my mouth, and this young face was screwed with frustration.
"Ok I shall do it again. If you don't look carefully, I will stop teaching you."
My eyes focused very clearly on the shoelaces, and my brain was throbbing hard. I soon realized that my hands were clutched very tightly against the skin of my lap, and I released them. I readied myself for the sudden movement of beige again.
I blinked. Opening your eyes wide out for a long time hurt. I stared back at my feet, preparing for her second attempt at teaching me the first part of tying shoelaces.
But all I saw was the finished product, the final product. Those shoelaces were already in place, and I could almost hear the smirking of these shoes. When I looked up, my mum had already left for her kitchen, where she would prepare dinner.
"Mum! Why are you leaving so quickly? I have yet to finish learning how to tie my shoelaces!" I sputtered. Controlling one's speech when one was extremely agitated was very difficukt.
"But you clearly didn't want to listen." My mother replied.
"Aren't you afraid I would commit suicide?"
"Go, lah."
I turned my head towards the window, and thinking about what was below had me shuddering.
A few months had passed, and still my fingers never learnt the art of tying my own shoelaces. But I never gave up. Over these few months I would continue trying, with determination enough yet to put the scouts to shame. I would succeed.
I did learn how to tie my shoelaces finally, at the most unlikely place though - it was in Slovenia, Italy, and I was there for a music trip.
I was alone in the hotel room, and I looked at those same pair of shoes. I pulled those shoes towards me as I had done over the past few months. I slipped my feet in, once again with quiet anticipation, ready to undertake this same quest that I had repeated a hundred times previously.
My fingers moved with care and delicateness, working on bringing these two strings together all by myself. I held my breath, going through every step with excitement, and yet fear, fear that I would fail once again, like I had done before. I slipped the final knot in.
And there it was! My heart lifted, and I looked back at my shoes, albeit with shoelaces tied. I did it.
Without anyone's help.
It was one of the best and most precious moments of my short life. Singapore had won the World Cup, and I had tied my shoelaces!
A thank-you note
To some person who's not a guy:
You bring to me peace and comfort.
I feel connected to the world when I'm talking to you.
I hope this can last for a long time, not simply months, but years.
You give me respite from this loss, and for that I'm thankful.
It may be what they call a bounce-back.
But as what my piano teacher said yesterday,
don't care about tomorrow, care about today.
And if what happens today is cared for,
tomorrow would be okay.
And it's good now.
You bring to me peace and comfort.
I feel connected to the world when I'm talking to you.
I hope this can last for a long time, not simply months, but years.
You give me respite from this loss, and for that I'm thankful.
It may be what they call a bounce-back.
But as what my piano teacher said yesterday,
don't care about tomorrow, care about today.
And if what happens today is cared for,
tomorrow would be okay.
And it's good now.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Scrubbing Germany's Plucking
The joy of seeing the dirt all gone after scrubbing one's own white pants. So there I was, just continuously scrubbing at the leg end, and seeing the patch lightening in colour.
I'm going to Germany in August! Clarence bought the air ticket for me already, because we (including the imba Zhang Aidi) made it into the competition round. After doing a recording of my Mozart Sonata K.330 1st Movement and my Chopin 'Harp' Etude, I sent it in to the organization and passed the recording round.
So anyway yeah I'm flying off on the 31st of July. It's kinda exciting that someone else bought the air ticket for me, because usually it would be a family-planned thing and we would do the surveys and everything.
This time Clarence smsed me to say 'I got the air ticket for you already.' Cool...
I'm going alone though! :( For the first time in my life I'll be going overseas all alone, without any company, although there's Clarence and Aidi. My dad will stay here in Singapore...And my mum will be around me in spirit :)
It's been a week, and I've coped surprisingly ok, trying to get this into a default setting. There's not much a huge change, except that it's clearer where the laundry goes and how to wash the laundry. Speaking of which I just went to hang up the bamboo poles...
I'll use Vesak Day to do all my overdue homework, so that means no distractions, no MSN. It's useless to say it but don't do it, so I'll be counting on my willpower. Although I demonstrated lousy willpower this morning by not being able to click into consciousness and get out of bed by 6, it will be different on Monday!
Anyway yesterday from 11.30-12.30 and 3.30 to 6.30 I went jamming! And any bass players out there like David, please tell me the correct way of plucking, because if I pluck so quickly my arms tend to tense up, and I'll definitely stop to relax the muscles.
Help, anyone?
I'm going to Germany in August! Clarence bought the air ticket for me already, because we (including the imba Zhang Aidi) made it into the competition round. After doing a recording of my Mozart Sonata K.330 1st Movement and my Chopin 'Harp' Etude, I sent it in to the organization and passed the recording round.
So anyway yeah I'm flying off on the 31st of July. It's kinda exciting that someone else bought the air ticket for me, because usually it would be a family-planned thing and we would do the surveys and everything.
This time Clarence smsed me to say 'I got the air ticket for you already.' Cool...
I'm going alone though! :( For the first time in my life I'll be going overseas all alone, without any company, although there's Clarence and Aidi. My dad will stay here in Singapore...And my mum will be around me in spirit :)
It's been a week, and I've coped surprisingly ok, trying to get this into a default setting. There's not much a huge change, except that it's clearer where the laundry goes and how to wash the laundry. Speaking of which I just went to hang up the bamboo poles...
I'll use Vesak Day to do all my overdue homework, so that means no distractions, no MSN. It's useless to say it but don't do it, so I'll be counting on my willpower. Although I demonstrated lousy willpower this morning by not being able to click into consciousness and get out of bed by 6, it will be different on Monday!
Anyway yesterday from 11.30-12.30 and 3.30 to 6.30 I went jamming! And any bass players out there like David, please tell me the correct way of plucking, because if I pluck so quickly my arms tend to tense up, and I'll definitely stop to relax the muscles.
Help, anyone?
Monday, May 12, 2008
peace finally for her
Kk I'm back. Firstly lots of people to thank.
First to top the list would be Jason, my cousin, who was here to help my dad and I in arrangement of the wake, the funeral, and lastly her cremation. And of course he was always there when drinks were needed to be served.
Was pretty busy on the second day though - many visitors came in, including all my NAFA friends, some of my classmates, extended relatives, and some of my mum's friends.
Today was the final day of the wake - there was a service before the cremation in the church. It was overwhelming, but I pretty much had everything organized in my head already, so I unknowingly did not shed a tear.
Thanks to Fiona and Edwyna for being all the way there from the service to the cremation.
The church is a beautiful and good place for inspiration. Must stop taking advantage of the Church to write music.
Thanks to all classmates who came down although there was school! Zhongren, Bryan, Jon Lim, Miss Low, and Mr Tan. Thank you!
Thanks to Mr. Eric Lim, my dad's friend, who bought a book "The Rest Is Noise" on modern art music for me, talking about Debussy and Ravel and the likes. Extremely hard to find a person like him (accompanied Pres. Nathan to South Africa before, owns many companies, and probably owns Mr. Kwan ;) - Sorry ryan!)
Thanks to the 6-5 guys, who really cheered me up when I just saw them. Laughing and talking alot of nonsense as per usual. For goodness Henry please start acting normal. Which wake has a doorbell. In 70 years when you have yours I'll switch off the lights to yours man...See whether got doorbell sound come out..
Thanks to all my relatives, who have been a constant pillar of support for me, and giving some life's invaluable tips.
Thanks to all RISE members, who came down, including Mr Sze, who came for two days. You guys have been a constant reminder for me to stay strong and focused too. Thanks!
Thanks to my neighbours, who also came down to visit my mum and gave words of wisdom.
Thanks to the funeral director, who ensured everything went smoothly and made my mum's journey to heaven smooth.
Thanks to the Church, who provided a safe and holy haven for the wake, a place where we could mourn, a place which was calm and quiet, a peaceful resting place for my mum.
And of course all who came to pay their last respects.
I'll get back soon to the track of life
First to top the list would be Jason, my cousin, who was here to help my dad and I in arrangement of the wake, the funeral, and lastly her cremation. And of course he was always there when drinks were needed to be served.
Was pretty busy on the second day though - many visitors came in, including all my NAFA friends, some of my classmates, extended relatives, and some of my mum's friends.
Today was the final day of the wake - there was a service before the cremation in the church. It was overwhelming, but I pretty much had everything organized in my head already, so I unknowingly did not shed a tear.
Thanks to Fiona and Edwyna for being all the way there from the service to the cremation.
The church is a beautiful and good place for inspiration. Must stop taking advantage of the Church to write music.
Thanks to all classmates who came down although there was school! Zhongren, Bryan, Jon Lim, Miss Low, and Mr Tan. Thank you!
Thanks to Mr. Eric Lim, my dad's friend, who bought a book "The Rest Is Noise" on modern art music for me, talking about Debussy and Ravel and the likes. Extremely hard to find a person like him (accompanied Pres. Nathan to South Africa before, owns many companies, and probably owns Mr. Kwan ;) - Sorry ryan!)
Thanks to the 6-5 guys, who really cheered me up when I just saw them. Laughing and talking alot of nonsense as per usual. For goodness Henry please start acting normal. Which wake has a doorbell. In 70 years when you have yours I'll switch off the lights to yours man...See whether got doorbell sound come out..
Thanks to all my relatives, who have been a constant pillar of support for me, and giving some life's invaluable tips.
Thanks to all RISE members, who came down, including Mr Sze, who came for two days. You guys have been a constant reminder for me to stay strong and focused too. Thanks!
Thanks to my neighbours, who also came down to visit my mum and gave words of wisdom.
Thanks to the funeral director, who ensured everything went smoothly and made my mum's journey to heaven smooth.
Thanks to the Church, who provided a safe and holy haven for the wake, a place where we could mourn, a place which was calm and quiet, a peaceful resting place for my mum.
And of course all who came to pay their last respects.
I'll get back soon to the track of life
Friday, May 9, 2008
her final moments
It was pretty overwhelming. I missed The Hypochondraic today as my dad called me to say that my mum was in a critical condition. So both of us rushed to Assisi Hospice, where my mum had been living in for the past few weeks.
In case any of you don't know, she's contracted liver cancer, and by the time she got diagnosed it was already too late. It was at the terminal stage already.
I hadn't caught a glimpse of my mum since last Friday, so today I decided I should again because I would never get to see her again if I missed the chance. I went there earlier this morning (but didn't enter the ward) and I went again this evening at 7.00.
She was lying there, unable to speak a single word. In case any of you don't know why, the liver has stopped functioning, and (I'm not a bio student, but I'll explain it as best as I can) the poisons that are generated by the body are not being expelled out of her body.
As such, the poisons have entered her bloodstream, and slowly impaired her brain and thought.
Now for all of you out there who are reading this, I don't know how you're feeling now, but this is all real. So yes, your friend here is currently facing an impending death in his family.
So when I went into her ward today, she was unable to recognise me, and her breathing was extremely laboured. So I heard the heaving and her laboured breaths - each single breath she took, felt so labouring. Her eyes were flipped upwards, and her eyelids were half-closed. And her skin tightened around her skull.
I talked to her a little, telling her I was Jonathan Shin, her son. If she still did remember - (she can't recognize anyone as of now) - however I'm very sure she lit up, whether she's angry that I came, or that she was happy. My psychologist cousin told me that she was probably having some memories switched on.
I told her loudly that I was Jonathan Shin. And that I was a pianist. And that I was her son. And that she went for my concerts, and she watched me perform. I told her I would work hard and she didn't need to worry.
Of course by then my tears were following already, as of all the relatives who were over there. They were crying, and asking my mum whether she heard me. She was making unintelligible sounds, and she clearly laboured to say something. Well she didn't get to say it though - it was now simply hopeless. Her lips were now chapped and faded - and she could not close her mouth; something like my uncle, who also passed away from liver cancer.
I told her I would work hard and that I would get a proper job. And that she always told me that on Mother's Day she didn't want any presents except that I got good results. I assured her I would - something that I've been trying to so hard to achieve.
I can still remember her face - the painful expression, the inability to recognize anyone, the blank glance. It was completely different from Friday when I saw her. At least she was still able to order and scold my dad around. Today she was entirely weak.
Nearing the last few moments of her life.
There've been many ups-and-downs for our relationship. I wouldn't mention much here - one should learn how to forgive and forget. Someone who was once so decisive and strong, had now become weak and a faint memory. Something so powerful - now lost.
I feel satisfied. I've told her what I would have done.
I feel a little pain though.
Trying to really hang in there, with every single breath she took. Every breath she exhaled a loud heave. Staring into the space, now a movement from a hand, now giving up.
I stroked her hair, and it felt really smooth. I've never stroked my mum's hair - she wouldn't have allowed me to. Well this time I did. It's probably the only time I got to anyway.
I think she teared a little bit. Just a little bit though.
I don't want see my mum suffer anymore. She's had quite a life (some really good points in my life where we shared with each other, and sometimes when I really become a jerk). When she passes away she'll get to somewhere better I hope.
Somewhere where she can breathe freely and taste orange juice.
Somewhere where she can be relieved from all the shit I've been giving her, but where she can watch my concerts somewhere from above.
Somewhere where she is free from worries and troubles.
Thanks mum, for the past 15 years. I'll use what you've taught me to the best I can.
In case any of you don't know, she's contracted liver cancer, and by the time she got diagnosed it was already too late. It was at the terminal stage already.
I hadn't caught a glimpse of my mum since last Friday, so today I decided I should again because I would never get to see her again if I missed the chance. I went there earlier this morning (but didn't enter the ward) and I went again this evening at 7.00.
She was lying there, unable to speak a single word. In case any of you don't know why, the liver has stopped functioning, and (I'm not a bio student, but I'll explain it as best as I can) the poisons that are generated by the body are not being expelled out of her body.
As such, the poisons have entered her bloodstream, and slowly impaired her brain and thought.
Now for all of you out there who are reading this, I don't know how you're feeling now, but this is all real. So yes, your friend here is currently facing an impending death in his family.
So when I went into her ward today, she was unable to recognise me, and her breathing was extremely laboured. So I heard the heaving and her laboured breaths - each single breath she took, felt so labouring. Her eyes were flipped upwards, and her eyelids were half-closed. And her skin tightened around her skull.
I talked to her a little, telling her I was Jonathan Shin, her son. If she still did remember - (she can't recognize anyone as of now) - however I'm very sure she lit up, whether she's angry that I came, or that she was happy. My psychologist cousin told me that she was probably having some memories switched on.
I told her loudly that I was Jonathan Shin. And that I was a pianist. And that I was her son. And that she went for my concerts, and she watched me perform. I told her I would work hard and she didn't need to worry.
Of course by then my tears were following already, as of all the relatives who were over there. They were crying, and asking my mum whether she heard me. She was making unintelligible sounds, and she clearly laboured to say something. Well she didn't get to say it though - it was now simply hopeless. Her lips were now chapped and faded - and she could not close her mouth; something like my uncle, who also passed away from liver cancer.
I told her I would work hard and that I would get a proper job. And that she always told me that on Mother's Day she didn't want any presents except that I got good results. I assured her I would - something that I've been trying to so hard to achieve.
I can still remember her face - the painful expression, the inability to recognize anyone, the blank glance. It was completely different from Friday when I saw her. At least she was still able to order and scold my dad around. Today she was entirely weak.
Nearing the last few moments of her life.
There've been many ups-and-downs for our relationship. I wouldn't mention much here - one should learn how to forgive and forget. Someone who was once so decisive and strong, had now become weak and a faint memory. Something so powerful - now lost.
I feel satisfied. I've told her what I would have done.
I feel a little pain though.
Trying to really hang in there, with every single breath she took. Every breath she exhaled a loud heave. Staring into the space, now a movement from a hand, now giving up.
I stroked her hair, and it felt really smooth. I've never stroked my mum's hair - she wouldn't have allowed me to. Well this time I did. It's probably the only time I got to anyway.
I think she teared a little bit. Just a little bit though.
I don't want see my mum suffer anymore. She's had quite a life (some really good points in my life where we shared with each other, and sometimes when I really become a jerk). When she passes away she'll get to somewhere better I hope.
Somewhere where she can breathe freely and taste orange juice.
Somewhere where she can be relieved from all the shit I've been giving her, but where she can watch my concerts somewhere from above.
Somewhere where she is free from worries and troubles.
Thanks mum, for the past 15 years. I'll use what you've taught me to the best I can.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
nothing
I've not yet gotten Dr Hecht's comments on my performance on Friday! So don't bother asking yet my viewers.
Anyway not much this week except I went to my aunt's house on Saturday and Sunday and left from there to school the next day. And I mostly played PSP and read my Chinese book. And the Chinese book wasn't for any sort of review! So a milestone for me.
And nothing else to talk about - the plain reason why I failed to blog for the past few days...
Anyway not much this week except I went to my aunt's house on Saturday and Sunday and left from there to school the next day. And I mostly played PSP and read my Chinese book. And the Chinese book wasn't for any sort of review! So a milestone for me.
And nothing else to talk about - the plain reason why I failed to blog for the past few days...
Thursday, May 1, 2008
a musical day ahead
I had to do an impromptu performance yesterday. With the imba Zhang Aidi, during Studio Class.
I mean, I couldn't believe it! Dr Hecht stated it was from 7-10, but I didn't realize all of us year 1s and year 2s had to perform. So anyway I didn't practise (neither did Aidi) for the half-an-hour between our lessons and Studio Class. And that meant I was looking towards a performing disaster.
Bach was a performing disaster - I didn't even know whether I was in the correct bar, but I was playing all the different progressions until it sounded good enough to head towards the end. But yes, I wasn't even conscious. That was because IT WASN'T MEMORIZED!
And so I was solely concentrating on the notes and not the correct mindset and 'feel'. There you have it, a musical disaster. Mozart was better, and the imagery that Dr Hecht put to me yesterday for a final attempt to help me do well in juries was fantastic enough to make me smile and think about the operatic actions and the laughter. And finally, Chopin etude, which I've already played through a couple of times.
Wish me good luck for juries tomorrow! Meanwhile, I can't wait. I have this immense urge to perform for them now, them being Dr Hecht, Mr Tiu, and the director of the Conservatory, Mr. Bernard Lanskey. After my juries, I would be heading back to school for some jamming, and then soccer, and then REHEARSAL from 6.30 to 9.30pm!
Shiok, shiok, shiok. What a musical day. I'll be skipping school to prepare for my juries though, so anyone from 4L who sees this, please tell the teachers! And if you don't understand what a jury means, it means a performance in front of members of the faculty and they will check one's progress throughout the entire year through the means of one performance.
That's it. Tomorrow I'll show them my progress. However, I wouldn't like to over-estimate, and I will continue practising now!
I mean, I couldn't believe it! Dr Hecht stated it was from 7-10, but I didn't realize all of us year 1s and year 2s had to perform. So anyway I didn't practise (neither did Aidi) for the half-an-hour between our lessons and Studio Class. And that meant I was looking towards a performing disaster.
Bach was a performing disaster - I didn't even know whether I was in the correct bar, but I was playing all the different progressions until it sounded good enough to head towards the end. But yes, I wasn't even conscious. That was because IT WASN'T MEMORIZED!
And so I was solely concentrating on the notes and not the correct mindset and 'feel'. There you have it, a musical disaster. Mozart was better, and the imagery that Dr Hecht put to me yesterday for a final attempt to help me do well in juries was fantastic enough to make me smile and think about the operatic actions and the laughter. And finally, Chopin etude, which I've already played through a couple of times.
Wish me good luck for juries tomorrow! Meanwhile, I can't wait. I have this immense urge to perform for them now, them being Dr Hecht, Mr Tiu, and the director of the Conservatory, Mr. Bernard Lanskey. After my juries, I would be heading back to school for some jamming, and then soccer, and then REHEARSAL from 6.30 to 9.30pm!
Shiok, shiok, shiok. What a musical day. I'll be skipping school to prepare for my juries though, so anyone from 4L who sees this, please tell the teachers! And if you don't understand what a jury means, it means a performance in front of members of the faculty and they will check one's progress throughout the entire year through the means of one performance.
That's it. Tomorrow I'll show them my progress. However, I wouldn't like to over-estimate, and I will continue practising now!
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