- Pick your birth month.
- Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you.
- Bold the five-ten qualities that best apply to you.
- Copy to your own journal, with all twelve
August
Loves to joke. Attractive. Suave and caring. Brave and fearless. Firm and has leadership qualities. Knows how to console others. Too generous and egoistic. Takes high pride in oneself. Thirsty for praises. Extraordinary spirit. Easily angered. Angry when provoked. Easily jealous. Observant. Careful and cautious. Thinks quickly. Independent thoughts. Loves to lead and to be led. Loves to dream. Talented in the arts, music and defense. Sensitive but not petty. Poor resistance against illnesses. Learns to relax. Hasty and trusty. Romantic. Loving and caring. Loves to make friends.
I'll strike them out someday, because I really really really don't know how to do strike-outs in Blogger. You can help me strike them out if you want by tagging whatever you feel doesn't apply to me.
Ahaha! That's one for my grandma for those of you who couldn't find 'susceptible to acne attacks'.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Mosquitoland
www.i-talk-you-listen.blogspot.com
25th January 2009 – Blog post
Destination: Jalan Taman Molek, somewhere in Johor Bahru, close to the border
Ready to close for the night, sitting in front of the laptop with a cup of warm Milo (100% Milo powder, I usually go with 75% milk and 25% milo), and a plate of kueh neng kor. Kueh neng means chicken egg, while kor means cake, but it’s really just some kind of dough mixed with eggs to get this Chinese New Year ‘delicacy’. All shaped like fish, probably for the ‘yu’ part. Yum.
Upon deeper thinking I realize I’m the only guy in the house, because my dad went to watch Arsenal vs. Cardiff at the nearby coffeeshop. Was tempted to go and watch it with him, until he ordered me that before I could go I had to change into some outdoor clothing. Not surprisingly I was too lazy to do so, and am much content with my current state of sitting in front of the laptop typing.
I slept through the rainy weather a few hours back, waking up after 4 hours. My head propped against the pillow, my left arm drawn back underneath my head, and my right hand silently tapping the bed as I recalled one of my earlier drafts written before I started improvising. I still like it a lot, the distinct melody and the oscillating semiquavers. The dull weather and the tinted windows perfected the ambience, raindrops falling nonchalantly outside.
Time passes by slowly here, and the four females are mostly engrossed in cooking, cleaning, cooking and cleaning again. I don’t know where my grandmother gets her income from, but I believe they do stick addresses onto envelopes (by the thousands – all the envelopes containing advertisements) once every month, forming the bedrock of their income. The rest? Courtesy money from relatives I think. But they’re getting along very well here.
I’m surprised that my cousins do read my blog also, and this afternoon’s questioning yielded the (fact) that they were the ones who tagged as ‘anon’ and ‘gel’. How very factual, but it just goes to show that yes, they do get updated also. Another facet of me revealed :O
Mosquito bites are the norm in this place, but they aren’t killing me – yet. The Conservatory has once again entered my life, its ‘Semester 2 Concerts & Events’ booklet being used as a mouse pad. Apparently I brought along some of Conservatory stuff too, like Dr Makerome’s worksheets. Here are some of the modes I’ve recently learnt, for kicks. And yes, in case people like Zhu En stumble on my blog, he could learn a thing or two. Or too.
Ok modal scales can be identified by the intervals between each note and the next in the scale. And here’s the revelation:
The Ionian mode would be all the white key notes played starting from C.
The Dorian mode would be all the white key notes played starting from D.
The Phrygian mode would be all the white key notes played starting from E.
The Lydian mode would be all the white key notes played starting from F.
The Mixolydian mode – G.
The Aeolian mode – A.
The Locrian mode – B.
Essentially all the major scales we’ve been playing are based on the Ionian mode, which would be C major. To prove it, just count the semitones between each note played in the C major scale, then play B major and check whether the number of semitones corresponds. If it doesn’t I will gladly offer my right ring finger for sale. Gosh, Schumann was so stupid to try to strengthen his fourth finger. I realized that both the fourth and little finger used the same muscle, after failing my attempt to retract ONLY my little finger and keeping my ring finger outstretched. Forcing it only introduced more pain.
Alright that’s all for tonight. See you people tomorrow.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Off
YST Conservatory library, with two Thai seniors talking behind me while I try to type as softly as possible. Which is hardly possible, because you guys probably know about my typing speed and the level of attack I use, and the pedalling depth, and the...
Oh, hold on. Wrong topic.
Two days back on Thursday I attended Jazz workshop, where some unfortunate souls were sabo-ed to improvise (which I desperately failed at because our rhythms turned too complicated) while being watched by (the horrors!) 2 dozen people in pinafores.
Last I heard guys didn't wear pinafores so you people can figure.
You know, this sort of disgust isn't going to do/be any good when I go deep into the RIJC education system. But I don't know, is it just some kind of irrational fear? Yeah.
MRT trip to the Esplanade, Eroica, off.
So anyway I was sobbing when they said 2nd year students had to do harmonic minor and melodic minor scales in contrary motion. When they said we had to do it in 3rds, 6ths, and 10ths, I contemplated hari-kiri.
Melodic minor, seperated by 6ths (we usually do it in octaves), and done in contrary motion, is not a joke. Neither is not coming for class for 2 weeks consecutively and taking my fantasy worksheet with you a joke, ZAD. But I don't hold anything against her, and still wish her a happy Chinese New Year.
Yeah so lesson yesterday started with the G minor scales, which I probably tore apart after having to play its diminished seventh chord in broken scales, chromatic scale in G, and its harmonic and melodic minor modes, its appegios in different inversions. Ja, anything you can think of.
Following that was Ravel Sonatine Third Movement, which was ok, just like any other lesson, inspiring, but braincell-killing.
Waited for her lesson to end, and then all three of us went for a Munchie Monkey dinner, and then a round of pool with Akkra. Out of 3 games we played, I beat Akkra 2-1! The last game was thrown away by me after I knocked the 8-ball in, but we cheated by replacing the black ball with another cue ball so we could continue having fun.
Apparently we could be fined because of that, but we didn't bother anyway.
Going to Johor for the next few days, probably one, but I will be missing people of course, and the only thing I can pour my miseries on would be the manuscript books. Or maybe not.
A chat over teh, and then I'm off.
Oh, hold on. Wrong topic.
Two days back on Thursday I attended Jazz workshop, where some unfortunate souls were sabo-ed to improvise (which I desperately failed at because our rhythms turned too complicated) while being watched by (the horrors!) 2 dozen people in pinafores.
Last I heard guys didn't wear pinafores so you people can figure.
You know, this sort of disgust isn't going to do/be any good when I go deep into the RIJC education system. But I don't know, is it just some kind of irrational fear? Yeah.
MRT trip to the Esplanade, Eroica, off.
So anyway I was sobbing when they said 2nd year students had to do harmonic minor and melodic minor scales in contrary motion. When they said we had to do it in 3rds, 6ths, and 10ths, I contemplated hari-kiri.
Melodic minor, seperated by 6ths (we usually do it in octaves), and done in contrary motion, is not a joke. Neither is not coming for class for 2 weeks consecutively and taking my fantasy worksheet with you a joke, ZAD. But I don't hold anything against her, and still wish her a happy Chinese New Year.
Yeah so lesson yesterday started with the G minor scales, which I probably tore apart after having to play its diminished seventh chord in broken scales, chromatic scale in G, and its harmonic and melodic minor modes, its appegios in different inversions. Ja, anything you can think of.
Following that was Ravel Sonatine Third Movement, which was ok, just like any other lesson, inspiring, but braincell-killing.
Waited for her lesson to end, and then all three of us went for a Munchie Monkey dinner, and then a round of pool with Akkra. Out of 3 games we played, I beat Akkra 2-1! The last game was thrown away by me after I knocked the 8-ball in, but we cheated by replacing the black ball with another cue ball so we could continue having fun.
Apparently we could be fined because of that, but we didn't bother anyway.
Going to Johor for the next few days, probably one, but I will be missing people of course, and the only thing I can pour my miseries on would be the manuscript books. Or maybe not.
A chat over teh, and then I'm off.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Remember when...
A glaring sunset filling my study room with orange and red light, against the green paint. Half an hour later it is gone, the lights go on, and I get ready for the practice that would be happening tonight. But, indeed, an exceptional sunset.
That means getting my stomach filled, blog, check my emails, cleaning the dishes, and then keeping the laundry. All of which are already done except for blogging. I'm proud of myself :) Dinner was essentially breakfast x 2. Breakfast = 2 pancakes +3 eggs (to be scrambled). Ok go multiply that by two, except the number of eggs still remain the same.
6 eggs = dinner + diarrhoea.
Yeah but add a cup of warm milo and some cookies that we both baked...full lah.
Tiring but fun day, the tiring part comes from soccer with RI guys and some of my classmates back in RI. Fun...well improvising for my audition into Piano Ensemble is something that took me lots of courage to do, and I did it :) But I cheated and played a little Griffes, just in case the improvisation turned out shitty. Which I don't think it did...
A dedication article from my classmate Geoffrey in honor of me, thank you very much. Article can be found in RInspire, I don't really seem to know about things that revolve around me. Maybe CNA has played 2000 videos of me jumping around Singapore, and I don't even know about that. But no, I'm sure I wasn't at Obama's inauguration ceremony, so you wouldn't see me standing there.
It was great, 1am back at home, having just showered, settling on my dad's bed to catch the swearing-in live. It's the thrill of it, watching things live, let's say soccer, or any sort-of sports. You know, you get that "oh-so-I-know-what's-happening-currently" feel-good feeling. But this was absolutely different.
I was witnessing with my own eyes a historic moment - America's first black President, first black Commander-in-Chief. But there was a little stress at the back of my brain. Would he be assassinated? Touchwood touchwood.
Like, after saying, "So help me God."
Then everyone applauds, and then suddenly a huge roar, everyone dispersing, the camera shakes vigorously around, panning around (probably for the possibility of capturing the assasin on tape) before zooming back on the downed target. And then the anchor would be like, "President Barack Obama has been shot! President Barack Obama has been shot!" And there would be screaming and crying and lots of Secret Service people surrounding the podium.
(shivers) My gosh, if this ever happens, one of the things you'll would remember would hopefully be this. Or if it ever happens, I'll dig up this post again and put it as my latest post.
See, example of evil bastard, sitting right in front of the computer.
So God help me.
That means getting my stomach filled, blog, check my emails, cleaning the dishes, and then keeping the laundry. All of which are already done except for blogging. I'm proud of myself :) Dinner was essentially breakfast x 2. Breakfast = 2 pancakes +3 eggs (to be scrambled). Ok go multiply that by two, except the number of eggs still remain the same.
6 eggs = dinner + diarrhoea.
Yeah but add a cup of warm milo and some cookies that we both baked...full lah.
Tiring but fun day, the tiring part comes from soccer with RI guys and some of my classmates back in RI. Fun...well improvising for my audition into Piano Ensemble is something that took me lots of courage to do, and I did it :) But I cheated and played a little Griffes, just in case the improvisation turned out shitty. Which I don't think it did...
A dedication article from my classmate Geoffrey in honor of me, thank you very much. Article can be found in RInspire, I don't really seem to know about things that revolve around me. Maybe CNA has played 2000 videos of me jumping around Singapore, and I don't even know about that. But no, I'm sure I wasn't at Obama's inauguration ceremony, so you wouldn't see me standing there.
It was great, 1am back at home, having just showered, settling on my dad's bed to catch the swearing-in live. It's the thrill of it, watching things live, let's say soccer, or any sort-of sports. You know, you get that "oh-so-I-know-what's-happening-currently" feel-good feeling. But this was absolutely different.
I was witnessing with my own eyes a historic moment - America's first black President, first black Commander-in-Chief. But there was a little stress at the back of my brain. Would he be assassinated? Touchwood touchwood.
Like, after saying, "So help me God."
Then everyone applauds, and then suddenly a huge roar, everyone dispersing, the camera shakes vigorously around, panning around (probably for the possibility of capturing the assasin on tape) before zooming back on the downed target. And then the anchor would be like, "President Barack Obama has been shot! President Barack Obama has been shot!" And there would be screaming and crying and lots of Secret Service people surrounding the podium.
(shivers) My gosh, if this ever happens, one of the things you'll would remember would hopefully be this. Or if it ever happens, I'll dig up this post again and put it as my latest post.
See, example of evil bastard, sitting right in front of the computer.
So God help me.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Nonsense!
Eh...yes. I'm still in my own home, that's all that matters for now. I know all these seems rather out-dated due to the fast-moving pace of my life, but I still feel a kind of 'responsibility' towards my readers.
Long story short I'm going to blog about the yester-days. Friday lesson and masterclass were surprisingly smooth, except I nearly got that gag reflex again because of what Mr McLachlan told me to do, to hold down the pedal and create this 'dirty kind of tone'.
It's unfortunate that being allergic to alcohol (a whiff can knock me cold) isn't enough, I'm apparently sensitive also to harsh dissonances. Not that I haven't been creating enough in my improvisations, but harsh dissonances together with muddy pedalling can induce a gag reflex, and subsequently cause me to puke.
I'm not kidding. I might sound like I'm exagerrating but sigh. I'm not. Thankfully I have yet to vomit my guts out yet thanks to the beautiful sounds I have been hearing at the Conservatory and also at RJC. However being the subject of this weird experiment conducted on me during masterclass has left me dazed - much like after scratching the chalkboard or the wall for 2 hours continuously.
Torture.
Lesson before that was spent running through Griffes in preparation for the masterclass, and then of course the 3rd movement of Ravel's Sonatine, unsurprisingly presented slow and steady and (hopefully) organized. T'was a good lesson, and I'll make sure this week's lesson would also be as good.
I know it has already been posted, looks like I was too late. But yes Saturday's concert at the Conservatory by the same man who taught me during masterclass was...was. Due to the state of my mind currently I am unable to give you any of my thoughts or ideas or whatsoever.
After my business was done at RJC I walked over to RI to get to my bus. Met two teachers, both of whom said I had indeed grown thinner. Seems like someone has been starving or something, but no leh. I do eat alot...then again I was lucky [again, lucky bastard] because the second teacher, Miss Alicia Goh, told me that today was Testimonial Collection Day :O. Which I obviously wasn't really in the know about.
Testimonial, I'm proud to say, was stunningly true and clean of bullshit. But my future CEO so needed to know that I was a stagehand during SYF 2005, and that one of my aspirations was edited to being an accompanist. Hur.
1) Teacher
2) Composer
3) Performer
4) Conductor
5) Critic
Ah. The complete musician. The close reflection of Trevor Sze (although I've never seen his critiques or compositions)
Get it? Get it? No "accompanist". You might have as well told me to be a page-turner.
K other than that, I would be performing in Medan next month so I wouldn't be here for a while, and an opportunity to also go to Chethams, Manchester in August. Unfortunately I have concerts and performances in August too (on my birthday) so that means...nope. Chethams would have to wait. My birthday is more important. :)
I have this nagging feeling that I've been mentioning Medan for a thousand times already, but I don't care. It feels good, and anything that feels good is worth over-feeling.
what the hell.
Long story short I'm going to blog about the yester-days. Friday lesson and masterclass were surprisingly smooth, except I nearly got that gag reflex again because of what Mr McLachlan told me to do, to hold down the pedal and create this 'dirty kind of tone'.
It's unfortunate that being allergic to alcohol (a whiff can knock me cold) isn't enough, I'm apparently sensitive also to harsh dissonances. Not that I haven't been creating enough in my improvisations, but harsh dissonances together with muddy pedalling can induce a gag reflex, and subsequently cause me to puke.
I'm not kidding. I might sound like I'm exagerrating but sigh. I'm not. Thankfully I have yet to vomit my guts out yet thanks to the beautiful sounds I have been hearing at the Conservatory and also at RJC. However being the subject of this weird experiment conducted on me during masterclass has left me dazed - much like after scratching the chalkboard or the wall for 2 hours continuously.
Torture.
Lesson before that was spent running through Griffes in preparation for the masterclass, and then of course the 3rd movement of Ravel's Sonatine, unsurprisingly presented slow and steady and (hopefully) organized. T'was a good lesson, and I'll make sure this week's lesson would also be as good.
I know it has already been posted, looks like I was too late. But yes Saturday's concert at the Conservatory by the same man who taught me during masterclass was...was. Due to the state of my mind currently I am unable to give you any of my thoughts or ideas or whatsoever.
After my business was done at RJC I walked over to RI to get to my bus. Met two teachers, both of whom said I had indeed grown thinner. Seems like someone has been starving or something, but no leh. I do eat alot...then again I was lucky [again, lucky bastard] because the second teacher, Miss Alicia Goh, told me that today was Testimonial Collection Day :O. Which I obviously wasn't really in the know about.
Testimonial, I'm proud to say, was stunningly true and clean of bullshit. But my future CEO so needed to know that I was a stagehand during SYF 2005, and that one of my aspirations was edited to being an accompanist. Hur.
1) Teacher
2) Composer
3) Performer
4) Conductor
5) Critic
Ah. The complete musician. The close reflection of Trevor Sze (although I've never seen his critiques or compositions)
Get it? Get it? No "accompanist". You might have as well told me to be a page-turner.
K other than that, I would be performing in Medan next month so I wouldn't be here for a while, and an opportunity to also go to Chethams, Manchester in August. Unfortunately I have concerts and performances in August too (on my birthday) so that means...nope. Chethams would have to wait. My birthday is more important. :)
I have this nagging feeling that I've been mentioning Medan for a thousand times already, but I don't care. It feels good, and anything that feels good is worth over-feeling.
what the hell.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Questions hanging
Yeah, call it what you want. Exiled from my own home. Self-imposed. Real-time, me, yes. Not going back home because my potential step-mum and her daughter are in it, and no, I'm not going to enter a house that has strangers in it.
Can you replace a mum? No. And if I'm going to look to her as a kind of maid or a housekeeper, can you then imagine your own dad marrying the maid? No. Suddenly, in my life, a half-sister? No. can't imagine. Why should I be sharing my house with other people then? Other people whom I have no feeling for, whom I've never even met before, other people whom I don't love.
Let's bring it to yesterday - woke up with a splitting headache after sleeping super late the previous night. RJC open house. Anyway I still got there 1 hour earlier than many other Rafflesians of my cohort. The reason why I woke up so early was because I had to have breakfast with my 2 aunties, my cousin and my dad at Serangoon. Bopian, otherwise I have to take public transport, which isn't really a good deal, considering you get your food paid for (by my dad).
I have chosen to join Raffles Jazz and Piano Ensemble, Piano Ensemble because Thomas Ang is in it, and he's damn good, and it's fun to have sight-reading contests with him when you know that you would definitely lose.
Who the hell would want to compete with a guy who accompanies a hell lot of people and has to learn pieces in the shortest amount of time?
Maybe it's just me. I'm a glutton for losing. Speaking of losing I'm feeling like a loser now - practised for the past 3 hours and starving with nowhere to go, and in my RI PE shirt and Germany jacket. Keh.
So yes, I'll be waiting for Raffles Jazz auditions, and then I'm in already. Hopefully I'll pass, but sometimes in life you don't get everything you want, though it seems contrary to that now. After Open House went to Esplanade with Subway dinner in hand, reached Pan Pacific Hotel at around 7.25, then RAN all the way to the Esplanade. Thank you, we managed to get in, albeit I was panting like a dog.
Don't run next time.
PM Lee was the guest-of-honor today, special occasion being the SSO 30th Anniversary. They invited us to have a piece of cake when we left the concert hall later, so we could bring a piece of the SSO home (the hell?) Anyway they weren't lying, we were both given a small yellow nicely-done package with a piece of the cake inside. I'm doubting it, but maybe it was because the cake look so small when we were all the way up at the top, on the 3rd level.
Yes, they rolled the cake up on stage.
Beethoven's Symphony No. 1 was stylistically accurate (a great achievement considering the hundreds of recordings I have heard of it and none of them seemed to suit the period), rhythmically tight (after my own bad experience of playing it in VJC as a cellist) and musically sound. Nice one, SSO. As usual, I was listening and writing down composition/orchestration techniques. Some people beside me kinda made me think that I would be reading a review in a few days' time.
Old man on my right was looking sagely, but he cracked that image apart when he started bouncing to Bruch's Violin Concerto. Bravo, let the senility show!
I didn't stop him though, lest when old people rule the world I would be the first on his target list. But thinking about it now, dang, I should have nudged him a little. Hopefully he would get the drift.
Yeah anyway Bruch Concerto...was nothing out of the ordinary. Just usual solo playing, making it look difficult, and rushing from the part of the soloist, which I swear is inevitable, but assistant concertmistress was great though. Was thinking about Song Quan when I heard the Concerto, wondering how easily it would sound under those young yet astoundingly precise, graceful and strong fingers. And just 13-14. Or maybe younger. Brr. Wonderboy.
Intermission was spent eating Subway (YUM I feel like eating it for dinner today) and listening to some 40-50 year old guy sing at the atrium.
Beethoven's Symphony No. 5...Marc Rochester was right. It really isn't that creative compared to the 1st. Talking about modulations, tonicizations. The famous first 4 notes were played at a much faster tempo compared to the 7000 ones I've heard before (gosh have I attended so many concerts in my life? Maybe shopping centres and elevators and lobbies would be more fit.)
It was like, "Omg omg omg the first 4 notes are starting...(5 seconds later) Huh. Over already ah. Ok I don't know the rest of the piece, so I'll just sit back and relax, sleep. What, I paid 27 bucks just to listen to this, and now it's over. Dumb."
So we had Rochor beancurd for supper as usual along with my dad. Youtiao, butterfly. Mmm.
Piano lesson followed by masterclass, then piano departmental meeting, then don't know what. Tired. Confused. Sad. And probably for the first time, angst whilst lying on the bed. That chest pain. That...heart pain.
Do you even love her? For how long have you even met her? And if you spend the money on getting the flat, and then you'll divorce, what happens? Where does the money go to? And if it turns ugly, legal spat, can we pay for it? Is it worth it to go through all these trouble just to let her look good? Just to let people see that she has a flat to live in?
Is it just altruism on your part? Random act of kindness? A quick bounce-back after a death? Ever weighed the consequences if anything happens? Anything. Anything can happen.
I know I'll never be at peace should I share my house with an utter stranger, strangers. I will never practise the piano the same again, never be able to listen to music, eat my food the same way again. It's different. And I know because I've talked to people who've gone through this shit. And I've just added one more person to my list today, someone close to me (not my dad lah, my friend) Someone who knows music just as well, or even better than me (although he can't improvise that well hahahaha)
Couldn't say anything but I gave him a hug to console him.
Not being able to share a flat with some people means they cannot come over and stay in the house. My dad wants to stay with them in their new flat, which means if you haven't realised, I'll be living alone.
Yes, as in we're talking about living, means like months or years, alone. Something like boarding. But then in boarding they don't give you a grand piano, they don't give you a huge TV, a great blah blah. You get the idea. Well, maybe I can start thinking of myself living in a suite. But then again I am my own maid, my own butler. I do the cooking, laundry, housekeeping myself! And if my dad were to return probably once a month or more then his bedroom would have to be kept tidy.
And if it's on the agenda, I might start teaching regularly again for duh, income. I don't wish for any other kids to be like me, but I don't know whether it's taking things too far. I just realised I have A-levels, exams. But then I'll be expecting some food and green bean soup to be delivered hehheh :) right to my doorstep. Every Villian Is Lemon.
Then again what if I suddenly go into a seizure and die? Or get knocked down by a car (which accidently drove 22 storeys into the air and crash into my home? Accident lah. Anything can happen in accidents remember??) Yes, some things to ponder.
I'm having this thought that some of you reading this might think I'm joking or something, like just to get blog-hits. Hey, obsession with bloghits over! (checks counter) That's not counted. Anyway yeah it's true, see I got into RJC (as I have blogged), not faking. Keh, like that would increase bloghits.
I might be staying alone starting from late this year, but who cares. I'll survive.
Anyway yes so here I am at the Conservatory, typing this on a Mac. Hesitant of whether she will still be there when I get back home or not. Hopefully not, because I need to shower and revise my music for tomorrow's masterclass and lesson.
Some things are just plain incredulous.
Life has given me more than I've asked for, and I'll definitely treasure and cherish them. Thankfully, there's an inner joy still tucked somewhere in me, telling me to be contented with life and the people around you.
Sleep, Jonathan, sleep.
Can you replace a mum? No. And if I'm going to look to her as a kind of maid or a housekeeper, can you then imagine your own dad marrying the maid? No. Suddenly, in my life, a half-sister? No. can't imagine. Why should I be sharing my house with other people then? Other people whom I have no feeling for, whom I've never even met before, other people whom I don't love.
Let's bring it to yesterday - woke up with a splitting headache after sleeping super late the previous night. RJC open house. Anyway I still got there 1 hour earlier than many other Rafflesians of my cohort. The reason why I woke up so early was because I had to have breakfast with my 2 aunties, my cousin and my dad at Serangoon. Bopian, otherwise I have to take public transport, which isn't really a good deal, considering you get your food paid for (by my dad).
I have chosen to join Raffles Jazz and Piano Ensemble, Piano Ensemble because Thomas Ang is in it, and he's damn good, and it's fun to have sight-reading contests with him when you know that you would definitely lose.
Who the hell would want to compete with a guy who accompanies a hell lot of people and has to learn pieces in the shortest amount of time?
Maybe it's just me. I'm a glutton for losing. Speaking of losing I'm feeling like a loser now - practised for the past 3 hours and starving with nowhere to go, and in my RI PE shirt and Germany jacket. Keh.
So yes, I'll be waiting for Raffles Jazz auditions, and then I'm in already. Hopefully I'll pass, but sometimes in life you don't get everything you want, though it seems contrary to that now. After Open House went to Esplanade with Subway dinner in hand, reached Pan Pacific Hotel at around 7.25, then RAN all the way to the Esplanade. Thank you, we managed to get in, albeit I was panting like a dog.
Don't run next time.
PM Lee was the guest-of-honor today, special occasion being the SSO 30th Anniversary. They invited us to have a piece of cake when we left the concert hall later, so we could bring a piece of the SSO home (the hell?) Anyway they weren't lying, we were both given a small yellow nicely-done package with a piece of the cake inside. I'm doubting it, but maybe it was because the cake look so small when we were all the way up at the top, on the 3rd level.
Yes, they rolled the cake up on stage.
Beethoven's Symphony No. 1 was stylistically accurate (a great achievement considering the hundreds of recordings I have heard of it and none of them seemed to suit the period), rhythmically tight (after my own bad experience of playing it in VJC as a cellist) and musically sound. Nice one, SSO. As usual, I was listening and writing down composition/orchestration techniques. Some people beside me kinda made me think that I would be reading a review in a few days' time.
Old man on my right was looking sagely, but he cracked that image apart when he started bouncing to Bruch's Violin Concerto. Bravo, let the senility show!
I didn't stop him though, lest when old people rule the world I would be the first on his target list. But thinking about it now, dang, I should have nudged him a little. Hopefully he would get the drift.
Yeah anyway Bruch Concerto...was nothing out of the ordinary. Just usual solo playing, making it look difficult, and rushing from the part of the soloist, which I swear is inevitable, but assistant concertmistress was great though. Was thinking about Song Quan when I heard the Concerto, wondering how easily it would sound under those young yet astoundingly precise, graceful and strong fingers. And just 13-14. Or maybe younger. Brr. Wonderboy.
Intermission was spent eating Subway (YUM I feel like eating it for dinner today) and listening to some 40-50 year old guy sing at the atrium.
Beethoven's Symphony No. 5...Marc Rochester was right. It really isn't that creative compared to the 1st. Talking about modulations, tonicizations. The famous first 4 notes were played at a much faster tempo compared to the 7000 ones I've heard before (gosh have I attended so many concerts in my life? Maybe shopping centres and elevators and lobbies would be more fit.)
It was like, "Omg omg omg the first 4 notes are starting...(5 seconds later) Huh. Over already ah. Ok I don't know the rest of the piece, so I'll just sit back and relax, sleep. What, I paid 27 bucks just to listen to this, and now it's over. Dumb."
So we had Rochor beancurd for supper as usual along with my dad. Youtiao, butterfly. Mmm.
Piano lesson followed by masterclass, then piano departmental meeting, then don't know what. Tired. Confused. Sad. And probably for the first time, angst whilst lying on the bed. That chest pain. That...heart pain.
Do you even love her? For how long have you even met her? And if you spend the money on getting the flat, and then you'll divorce, what happens? Where does the money go to? And if it turns ugly, legal spat, can we pay for it? Is it worth it to go through all these trouble just to let her look good? Just to let people see that she has a flat to live in?
Is it just altruism on your part? Random act of kindness? A quick bounce-back after a death? Ever weighed the consequences if anything happens? Anything. Anything can happen.
I know I'll never be at peace should I share my house with an utter stranger, strangers. I will never practise the piano the same again, never be able to listen to music, eat my food the same way again. It's different. And I know because I've talked to people who've gone through this shit. And I've just added one more person to my list today, someone close to me (not my dad lah, my friend) Someone who knows music just as well, or even better than me (although he can't improvise that well hahahaha)
Couldn't say anything but I gave him a hug to console him.
Not being able to share a flat with some people means they cannot come over and stay in the house. My dad wants to stay with them in their new flat, which means if you haven't realised, I'll be living alone.
Yes, as in we're talking about living, means like months or years, alone. Something like boarding. But then in boarding they don't give you a grand piano, they don't give you a huge TV, a great blah blah. You get the idea. Well, maybe I can start thinking of myself living in a suite. But then again I am my own maid, my own butler. I do the cooking, laundry, housekeeping myself! And if my dad were to return probably once a month or more then his bedroom would have to be kept tidy.
And if it's on the agenda, I might start teaching regularly again for duh, income. I don't wish for any other kids to be like me, but I don't know whether it's taking things too far. I just realised I have A-levels, exams. But then I'll be expecting some food and green bean soup to be delivered hehheh :) right to my doorstep. Every Villian Is Lemon.
Then again what if I suddenly go into a seizure and die? Or get knocked down by a car (which accidently drove 22 storeys into the air and crash into my home? Accident lah. Anything can happen in accidents remember??) Yes, some things to ponder.
I'm having this thought that some of you reading this might think I'm joking or something, like just to get blog-hits. Hey, obsession with bloghits over! (checks counter) That's not counted. Anyway yeah it's true, see I got into RJC (as I have blogged), not faking. Keh, like that would increase bloghits.
I might be staying alone starting from late this year, but who cares. I'll survive.
Anyway yes so here I am at the Conservatory, typing this on a Mac. Hesitant of whether she will still be there when I get back home or not. Hopefully not, because I need to shower and revise my music for tomorrow's masterclass and lesson.
Some things are just plain incredulous.
Life has given me more than I've asked for, and I'll definitely treasure and cherish them. Thankfully, there's an inner joy still tucked somewhere in me, telling me to be contented with life and the people around you.
Sleep, Jonathan, sleep.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Bah-bah-bah
So today I got to cook up pancakes and scrambled eggs for breakfast. And then instant noodles for lunch. Dinner's outside. Practise the piano. Read a book. Getting a life.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
You're Tipping Me Over The Edge
A sleepover at Lennie's house, and a visit from the police. Story goes like this -you have 5 guys staying over in some huge semi-D which has a cool balcony and 3 storeys. With a front lawn and back lawn and side lawn and whatever.
Yisin and I decide to watch AC Milan versus Hamburger downstairs on the 1st floor, the game starts at 10.55. The game ends in penalties, which Milan win, and we decide to join the guys upstairs. The guys - Daniel and Lennie - seem to be practising guitars in their room, but they aren't.
They're in the balcony, performing for the whole wide world, under the moon. Both of them have the guitars sling over their shoulders, both of them strumming vigorously. The music they produce, well, sensible. Marcus and I join them, and soon we're engaging in some Nigel-Jonathan improvisation, lots of nonsense in it, the penultimate subject being love this time. And when such things happen, you sure know that everyone tries to shout at their top of their lungs. It's, just an expression.
We hear someone shout from down below, but it's at such a distance it's merely a whisper at the top.
First signs of trouble around late 1am, when we see a police car driving real slow across the gates. We stop in our tracks, and look at the police car.
Police: We stop in our tracks, and look at the balcony. Four boys, not older than 18, occupy the hallowed area. Two of them have acoustic guitars slinged over their shoulders, while the other two seem not to be doing anything. However their mouths open and close. They probably must be talking.
Us: "Holy shit. Are they looking for us? Just now some guy shouted, he probably must have called the police." Oh wait, look, they're moving again! Heng siah. Me: "Lol later they U-turn back, then I'll be the one laughing." Everyone laughs as we exaggerate them turning back around and stopping in front of the house.
Police: We pull out of the street. We might be back.
Us: We continue singing, this time quieter. 5 minutes later, the police patrol car freaking pulls RIGHT in front of the house.
Police: We U-turn back, wind down the windows, and stop the car outside the house. We then get out of the car. Those guys up there must be so scared they're pissing in their pants.
Us: We're pissing in our pants. Two policemen step out of the car, and one asks, "May the owner of the house please come down." No, more like a request. An order.
Lennie says, "It's me." And he looks pretty shaken, but since we were with him all the while, we walk down six flights of steps in total darkness, and reach the front door. Only Marcus and Lennie walk across the front yard to talk to the patrolmen, while Yisin, Daniel and I stick to the sofa in the living room. No, we weren't sissies, too many cooks spoil the broth. I'm serious! Anyway we would have walked out if the police called us - a band always stick together.
Lennie comes back to the living room with a relieved smile on his face. We go up inside the room to discuss what happened.
Turns out the policemen had no choice but to do some follow-up because some person complained, so that next time we made noise the police can assure the person they did check up on the details. Lennie tells them, "Happy New Year."
"Oh oh, sure, Happy New Year. Good night."
I love Singapore policemen.
Yes, the blog music you're now listening to would be one of the songs that Exdee has recorded (I'm in it) over the past 2 months. Title would be Tipping, Falling. Love song. Lyrics under:
I never knew if you had ever felt the same for me
I had to know if it was real or just sympathy
There has to be something more behind that smile
I wish I knew, I wish I knew
I remember the nights that we spent so long
Talking about things that would make a song
Do you remember the same things that I do,
The things that make up, me and you
But now, I’m never letting it go again,
I’m never making the same mistakes
I’ll have you know
I’m crying out, all my tears have dried
No im not alright, so perhaps i lied,
Don’t try to catch me when I fall
I want to fall in love with you/ I wanna fall
Now it seems that i have fallen for you
I know this sounds absurd, it surprises me too
The door is open so step in and take a ride
Let me take you, on this ride
I’ll take you past the tall neon sky scrapers
To the quiet beach where we’ll spend the night
Staring at the stars, with you in my arms,
I will be looking, in your eyes
But now, I’m never letting it go again,
I’m never making the same mistakes
I’ll have you know.
I’m crying out, all my tears have dried
No im not alright, so perhaps I lied,
Don’t try to catch me when I fall
I want to fall in love with you/ I wanna fall in love with you
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge, over the edge.
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge, over the edge.
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge.
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge.
I wanna fall...
I’m crying out, all my tears have dried
No im not alright, so perhaps I lied,
Don’t try to catch me when I fall
I want to fall in love with you/ I wanna fall in love with you (x2)
Yisin and I decide to watch AC Milan versus Hamburger downstairs on the 1st floor, the game starts at 10.55. The game ends in penalties, which Milan win, and we decide to join the guys upstairs. The guys - Daniel and Lennie - seem to be practising guitars in their room, but they aren't.
They're in the balcony, performing for the whole wide world, under the moon. Both of them have the guitars sling over their shoulders, both of them strumming vigorously. The music they produce, well, sensible. Marcus and I join them, and soon we're engaging in some Nigel-Jonathan improvisation, lots of nonsense in it, the penultimate subject being love this time. And when such things happen, you sure know that everyone tries to shout at their top of their lungs. It's, just an expression.
We hear someone shout from down below, but it's at such a distance it's merely a whisper at the top.
First signs of trouble around late 1am, when we see a police car driving real slow across the gates. We stop in our tracks, and look at the police car.
Police: We stop in our tracks, and look at the balcony. Four boys, not older than 18, occupy the hallowed area. Two of them have acoustic guitars slinged over their shoulders, while the other two seem not to be doing anything. However their mouths open and close. They probably must be talking.
Us: "Holy shit. Are they looking for us? Just now some guy shouted, he probably must have called the police." Oh wait, look, they're moving again! Heng siah. Me: "Lol later they U-turn back, then I'll be the one laughing." Everyone laughs as we exaggerate them turning back around and stopping in front of the house.
Police: We pull out of the street. We might be back.
Us: We continue singing, this time quieter. 5 minutes later, the police patrol car freaking pulls RIGHT in front of the house.
Police: We U-turn back, wind down the windows, and stop the car outside the house. We then get out of the car. Those guys up there must be so scared they're pissing in their pants.
Us: We're pissing in our pants. Two policemen step out of the car, and one asks, "May the owner of the house please come down." No, more like a request. An order.
Lennie says, "It's me." And he looks pretty shaken, but since we were with him all the while, we walk down six flights of steps in total darkness, and reach the front door. Only Marcus and Lennie walk across the front yard to talk to the patrolmen, while Yisin, Daniel and I stick to the sofa in the living room. No, we weren't sissies, too many cooks spoil the broth. I'm serious! Anyway we would have walked out if the police called us - a band always stick together.
Lennie comes back to the living room with a relieved smile on his face. We go up inside the room to discuss what happened.
Turns out the policemen had no choice but to do some follow-up because some person complained, so that next time we made noise the police can assure the person they did check up on the details. Lennie tells them, "Happy New Year."
"Oh oh, sure, Happy New Year. Good night."
I love Singapore policemen.
Yes, the blog music you're now listening to would be one of the songs that Exdee has recorded (I'm in it) over the past 2 months. Title would be Tipping, Falling. Love song. Lyrics under:
I never knew if you had ever felt the same for me
I had to know if it was real or just sympathy
There has to be something more behind that smile
I wish I knew, I wish I knew
I remember the nights that we spent so long
Talking about things that would make a song
Do you remember the same things that I do,
The things that make up, me and you
But now, I’m never letting it go again,
I’m never making the same mistakes
I’ll have you know
I’m crying out, all my tears have dried
No im not alright, so perhaps i lied,
Don’t try to catch me when I fall
I want to fall in love with you/ I wanna fall
Now it seems that i have fallen for you
I know this sounds absurd, it surprises me too
The door is open so step in and take a ride
Let me take you, on this ride
I’ll take you past the tall neon sky scrapers
To the quiet beach where we’ll spend the night
Staring at the stars, with you in my arms,
I will be looking, in your eyes
But now, I’m never letting it go again,
I’m never making the same mistakes
I’ll have you know.
I’m crying out, all my tears have dried
No im not alright, so perhaps I lied,
Don’t try to catch me when I fall
I want to fall in love with you/ I wanna fall in love with you
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge, over the edge.
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge, over the edge.
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge.
You're tipping,
You're tipping me over the edge.
I wanna fall...
I’m crying out, all my tears have dried
No im not alright, so perhaps I lied,
Don’t try to catch me when I fall
I want to fall in love with you/ I wanna fall in love with you (x2)
Monday, January 5, 2009
snakeweed
Part 1
New Year Resolutions - since Hongrui did one I think I better do one too. Alright but I'll do really really short ones because I have no time to think of things to resolute this year.
Really Short New Year Resolutions:
1. Finish washing my clothings I wore today
2. Shower
3. Finish half of the pork floss cake for supper
4. Sleep before 2
Part 2
Studio recording at Snakeweed Studios. We didn't record my part today, its been pushed to being the first thing we're recording tomorrow afternoon. Listening to the chords and stuff now, thinking of what effects to stuff in. While waiting for our turns to record, we spammed my PSP and Daniel's laptop.
What boring things to blog about.
Eugene got me a Beatles card deck he bought from Liverpool for a New Year's present! I literally jumped up and down at the wooden stairs. Thanks, Eugene.
And I better start reading on Economics now.
New Year Resolutions - since Hongrui did one I think I better do one too. Alright but I'll do really really short ones because I have no time to think of things to resolute this year.
Really Short New Year Resolutions:
1. Finish washing my clothings I wore today
2. Shower
3. Finish half of the pork floss cake for supper
4. Sleep before 2
Part 2
Studio recording at Snakeweed Studios. We didn't record my part today, its been pushed to being the first thing we're recording tomorrow afternoon. Listening to the chords and stuff now, thinking of what effects to stuff in. While waiting for our turns to record, we spammed my PSP and Daniel's laptop.
What boring things to blog about.
Eugene got me a Beatles card deck he bought from Liverpool for a New Year's present! I literally jumped up and down at the wooden stairs. Thanks, Eugene.
And I better start reading on Economics now.
Friday, January 2, 2009
sex education in RJC?
Oh so I did blog more in 2008 compared to 2007. 1st day of the 2009 was spent at Professor Tang's house.
We met Professor Tang during the China trip, and now he and my dad are great wine buddies. So they down two bottles of wine, and even my dad can't take a third, but Tang said he wasn't feeling a high yet. Congratulations, my dad has finally met his match.
You obviously knew my dad didn't go behind the wheels, because if he did I wouldn't dare to sit inside the car (not like he has ever done that before). Got back home, showered, slept. No, read Oryx and Crake before sleeping.
Can't imagine myself writing a book review about it. Actually I can, maybe it's the music playing in the background that just fuzzes my mind up.
Went to the Conservatory again, couldn't refrain from smiling like a mad man when I saw the 2-piano room from the bus I was in. Gosh, can't wait for it to start. I like challenges. Met Dr Hecht, and he passed me a 6-can Guiness pack.
Yeah, right, for me to finish.
She stands at a distance while I gingerly pour the pancake flour-water mixture into the frying pan. Soon it forms a neat circle, but I cross my fingers. My pancakes usually develop air holes at the surface. Hers, well there were air holes, but at most they could be counted with just one hand. Or maybe even none.
And then they start appearing, popping up at random. Cue dismal face.
"My dad says women can tahan great amounts of pain," I turned to her and said.
"Of course! Do you know how painful labour can be?"
Vigorous nodding of heads.
"Yeah I know, I know."
"How would you know?"
Laughter all around the cooking area. I flip the pancake round, the side up coloured golden, with an obvious black burn mark - just another screwed pancake to add to the list.
"This one's mine."
Sounds familiar? Yeah, it's a comprehension passage I dug out from the bowels of my fuzzy mind. What does this one refer to in Paragraph 7?
I heard from Paul that RJC is going to spam us with sex education lessons right from the beginning. We could do with chanting the we wouldn't have sex in the toilets mantra for an hour before class starts. Maybe installing black stickers in the toilets and claiming they are CCTV cameras might work.
Or install real ones and the security guards would be spotted drooling in front of rows of black-and-white flickering screens. Ee-yer.
We met Professor Tang during the China trip, and now he and my dad are great wine buddies. So they down two bottles of wine, and even my dad can't take a third, but Tang said he wasn't feeling a high yet. Congratulations, my dad has finally met his match.
You obviously knew my dad didn't go behind the wheels, because if he did I wouldn't dare to sit inside the car (not like he has ever done that before). Got back home, showered, slept. No, read Oryx and Crake before sleeping.
Can't imagine myself writing a book review about it. Actually I can, maybe it's the music playing in the background that just fuzzes my mind up.
Went to the Conservatory again, couldn't refrain from smiling like a mad man when I saw the 2-piano room from the bus I was in. Gosh, can't wait for it to start. I like challenges. Met Dr Hecht, and he passed me a 6-can Guiness pack.
Yeah, right, for me to finish.
She stands at a distance while I gingerly pour the pancake flour-water mixture into the frying pan. Soon it forms a neat circle, but I cross my fingers. My pancakes usually develop air holes at the surface. Hers, well there were air holes, but at most they could be counted with just one hand. Or maybe even none.
And then they start appearing, popping up at random. Cue dismal face.
"My dad says women can tahan great amounts of pain," I turned to her and said.
"Of course! Do you know how painful labour can be?"
Vigorous nodding of heads.
"Yeah I know, I know."
"How would you know?"
Laughter all around the cooking area. I flip the pancake round, the side up coloured golden, with an obvious black burn mark - just another screwed pancake to add to the list.
"This one's mine."
Sounds familiar? Yeah, it's a comprehension passage I dug out from the bowels of my fuzzy mind. What does this one refer to in Paragraph 7?
I heard from Paul that RJC is going to spam us with sex education lessons right from the beginning. We could do with chanting the we wouldn't have sex in the toilets mantra for an hour before class starts. Maybe installing black stickers in the toilets and claiming they are CCTV cameras might work.
Or install real ones and the security guards would be spotted drooling in front of rows of black-and-white flickering screens. Ee-yer.
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