Top from the bottom

The 28th of February 2009, 1700 hrs to 1855 hrs on CCK theater number 1 Seat H-16 was the biggest waste of my precious time recently. Why? Because the show is about dogs and indeed, it is of doggy standard. This is not my personal biasness against dogs or my revolutionary official "hate dogs" club, but rather, more I feel a moral obligation to express how I feel lest many of you fall into the trap of getting yourselves seat belted to such a film. This is maybe only one tenth of what it seems to be. One tenth the excitement, one hundredth of comedic expectation, and one thousandth of how sad you might expect to be. And also, never trust reviews. (except mine).

Now. I wished I could show you the sunny side of this film, but no. It was all cloudy and the boredom engulfed the cinema like rain and land. Relentlessly. There was nothing that could have saved the plain plot, and there was certainly no rainbow after the shower of boredom. That might have sounded harsh but indeed my feelings at the point of time. No, that uncountable million of point-seconds, which I actually felt that way.

Let me introduce you to Marley and Me. Don't be fooled by the seemingly attractive nature of shows which center themselves with animals. Dogs in particular. This show was probably created by an animal lover and a parent as well. It involves a married couple's struggle with work, love, marriage and most importantly, an untrained undisciplined dog which pees wherever he want, chew the furniture and so on. That is merely the tip of the ice berg. The only redemption this film gets is that we know how notorious dogs can be, and how people can still be tolerant of them

Now, the plot is haphazard if there is one to begin with. The organization of scenes are not chronological and absolutely confusing. Pardon me because the boredom, monotonous uninteresting pace and scenes made my brain shut off. It was organizationally flawed. What's more, I highly doubt that there is a plot at all. The most I can salvage is. Couple purchases Dog, Dog causes trouble, (lots of), and couple starts having children. Wife suffers depression because Dog and Children are causing a lot of stress and fatigue. So in the end, when they almost want to get rid of Marley (the dog), they decided it would not change anything. So they decide they want to keep him but he DIES of old age. Now aw. That's sad isn't it. Cut the bullshit. It was laughable. So they bury the dead dog. And the family with their little kids give a nice last words to the deceased. The wife gives him her jewelry her husband gave her as a present. (how worthy of a dog). And everyone weeps. So what, we're expected to cry here???. From a dramatic point of view, it was impossible for me to cry. The music was insufficient, the mood was lacking, and the thought of crying of a dying dog (what's more, a fictional dog) is totally unthinkable. I am no iron man here and I do not consider myself heartless nor emotional. So, why in the world will people say that this film is sad.

A brilliantly boring plot. If you love dogs enough, go ahead. Watch this. If you're a parent struggling with work load love, marriage and children (or dogs), watch this. You will solace in familiarity. But for teenagers like you and I, please avoid this at all cost. The only only only redemption is how realistic it is. (note how much I crave for realistic plots usually) but this one is totally out of the league. As of all that I remember, this is the worst ever film I ever watched in a cinema. (except those which freak me out, but that is thrilling in a different way). Plot my feelings while watching and you get a straight horizontal line. No thrill, no excitement.

Now, note how this film is rated comedy. Because there is no other way to genre sort it. Action? No way. Romance, not exactly. I was expecting to laugh, but no. All they had were half baked comic relief which aren't even funny. There is something wrong with the humor and it is drier and the Sahara desert (which is really really dry). There is nothing to laugh at really, except how miserable and pathetic this film is.

Like I said, granted doggy fans should check out this film. But at your own risk. To me, it is so horrible to the extent that writing a review does make me cringe. (yes, because it is actually painfully boring to watch and even to recall).

1/10. From me. At most.

Pungent

Two buckets filled with paint are lying at my balcony now. the sliding doors are wide open and the air is free to flow. Diffusion! Damn that diffusion which cause my nose (and head) to be in such chaotic agony! The pungent paint is killing me from the inside out. I can't even bear the thought of eating my lunch in my room. Can you imagine me clenching my fist and gritting my teeth in agony just to sit here and type this post! I slept in again. Did those twelve hour sleep, feel so refreshed. If not for the paint, I would have had a bonus two hour sleep. And I would wake up at three. As I was wiggling in bed I just happened to considered all that unhealthy paint molecules infiltrating my lungs.

I don't want next week to come. Thinking about it is such a stupid move because it fills me with such uncertainty. Ever since day one, all national exams somehow favored me. They gave me grades and marks always higher than what I expect. Psle, O'levels. I never studied much for them but I got quite decent results. O'levels especially was quite a joke. But now it's elder brother is here for revenge. Aww. Please don't expect much people. I have half a mind to repeat actually. Like I said. Not many things survive relativity, let alone results! Will I survive? Or will my last minute attempt fail me. I could have done better, I could have actually studied consistently but I choose to squeeze two years of work (everything) after prelims (where I crashed and burned) into the one or two months before A'levels. And then, the next week after that is where I say sayonara halcyon days. Not good, so not good.

Suddenly ambivalence strikes me. There are things which I look forward to. I have a hard time imagining myself without my hair (which is quite long now), and suddenly I am starting to imagine life inside the Army. Though I know it will not be a bed of roses, and things will be tough but I just thought I'd like life without the freedom of choice for awhile. But still, some part of me, still dreads it. Maybe this is the legendary "rationalization of fears".

The unusual nights

I got to say that I am definitely starting to treasure everyday more and more. The "live day by day" or the cliche " live everyday like it's your last day alive" kind of mentality have been subconsciously taking effect. My days are numbered. These nights are odd, and I spend them practicing the piano instead. I'm making improvements just to lose everything in two weeks. One week from now, I will be thrown into bliss or pandemonium where a myriad of emotions will confront me. To flee or not, is not the question. Because there is no freedom of choice here, which I suppose, is not a good thing to have now.

The weekly "Lost" episodes are something I look forward to. I don't know what is it and why people say it's "not very good". It doesn't get the hype like Prison Break or Heroes here (am I missing something), but I feel the plot is very well thought of. I've been watching Japanese drama too, and so I could suddenly feel the relativity sink in. Now, now, I mentioned I was watching Absolute Boyfriend (Zettai Kareshi). I just finished 11 episodes in a couple days. Not that it was good, but I was bored.

A pretty lame plot which was highly predictable. I was watching more to guess if my predictions came true and to get that temporary feel good " see I told you so " feeling. And indeed, what I predicted came true-the ending that is. Very highly unrealistic even when you the science fiction part aside. The plot is naive, and shallow and it amazes me how it gets rated pretty high from my sources. (IMO, highly overrated). The protagonist, Riiko is just a two dimensional character. Why? Because she is ironically more robot than her flawless perfect robot lover.

How human can a robot be? Not much. Inversely, the human characters in the show seem all robotic. All programmed to fit under the ultimate plot jigsaw puzzle, to exist to satisfy the plot devices which eventually led the story from point A to point B. The love between the robot and the human was at times convincing but still, rather shallow. The protagonist portrays irrational stupid behavior at times, which I think is rather insulting if I was a girl. She finds her self being tossed between two guys. One real, and the other, unreal. The former is her ex-boss. Charming, nice and a gentleman. Always aloof but charismatic and "I believe in my dream" kind. Most importantly of all, he was very animated. On the other hand, we have the flawless robot. Seemingly "hot", muscular, and does only favorable things. This showed great and stark contrast. The producers were so obviously going to stick her in between both of them.

So you see, she was about to choose the Mr.Real when some crisis (plot devices 0.o) cropped up and wanted to scrap Mr.Robot. (to delete his memories and scrap him ultimately). She slips into that " After all I love Mr.Robot more " and then the show leaps into that desperate rush to save the day scene, abandoning Mr Real and their flight to Paris. Then suddenly there was tempoeral resolution. It seemed like it was going to be a happy ending of Mr Robot and Miss Fickle but no. I was smart because there was another 30 minutes of program time left with the series finale.

And indeed. Mr Robot had a faulty main processor that eventually caused him to die. He leaves Miss fickle/irrational with a memory card which contain his self filmed last words. (I even predicted this). The show slips into that emotional dramatic flashback with Miss Fickle tearing and I believe this is where our dear audience cries but no, I was laughing because I was spot right. Then despite Miss Fickle being irresponsible towards Mr Real and how he stood her up (in fact it happened many times in the series, and always for the robot), they both happily go to Paris together. Whether they developed feelings, no one know but we can assume yes. Miss Fickle was seen affectionately holding on to the memory card at the last air port scene.

Well. This is it. Japanese drama for you. Ever since young I've always realized that anime or drama alike seem to have a need to explain everyone into a good person. They have this obligation to explain why the originally good characters turn into bad characters.(usually we just see them all nasty and bad) As if there are no one inherently sinister. They try to get people to believing that "everyone is nice" kind of paradigm. It appears how the person who is always sabotaging everything and making things difficult also turns out to be a nice guy as well, how perfect. That is why we call it drama.

Superficial. Everything about this series is superficial. Plot, characters and of all, the ending. These dramas just seek to make you feel happy and sad at the right time and people who watch without much thinking slip into the producer's trap. Think of it, the correct mood, the correct words the actors say and the correct tears and the correct music can be it pleasantly sorrowful and painful to watch. Our empathy program starts to work excessively and then we become emotionally involved. But no, if we're thinking straight, suddenly everything will become naive and ridiculous at some point.

I thought of all the negative sides of the series only at the series finale because the story was haphazard. It doesn't seem to crescendo towards a climax. There is almost no build up of anything. It's like just a monotone, tap tap tap tap finish kind of sequence. Despite all that, it was a consoling one step above "staring into the mid air". Maybe I'm not girl so I cannot appreciate the eye candy.

I watch shows for intellectuality,profoundness and the right emotional involvement. It's just disturbing how things are so shallow. Nice for the moment, but bad for health. Just like fast food. Cheap, taste good but unhealthy.

//end criticism.

The things I liked

I have been blogging pretty long post these days. The last introspective one was about a thousand three hundred words. For most people, amongst the blogs they visit, I'd probably be ranked number one in terms of volume and quantity. Quality, however, is a different story all together.

Out of curiosity and boredom, I peeked into the blogs of people whom I lost contact with. Quite a number of people whom I was close to, but nope, I don't even breathe one word to them nowadays . Because I believe that people come and go. Your greatest friend at one point of time will become a stranger eventually unless the conditions allow for perpetual friendship. Otherwise, all will be gone. I don't recognize my very good buddy in Primary Six when we crossed paths one day along Bukit Timah. I have him on MSN but we never got pass the barrier of ten phrases. I remember going to his house to play many many times, but no, I never could recognize his face even if we met along the streets. And even if I did, would I say hi? No, I'd bet not.

Secondary school days make me cringe whenever I think about it. There are no beautiful memories to savor. I hated growing up along with all the things I realized. I was a competent slacker. I loathed school, never wanted to study, almost retained in Sec 3. I was always getting into trouble everywhere, and at the end, I graduated without a cca. Sec 2, they pushed me to Rugby. I skipped trainings so often that I could barely chalk up 50 percent attendance after much grace and medical excuse. Then rugby closed down. I was pushed to video club, I found them too lame. There weren't exactly much " technology" involved. It was just as superficial as camwhore. But no, no matter how much I blamed these reasons, the only reason was because I wanted to be at home to watch the next episode of the current anime I was watching.

A geek I was, Anime. I plowed my way through dozens of series to the extent that I could actually survive in Japan if I was being thrown there. Till today I can watch Drama without subtitles. I can understand about more than half of a Japanese song. I am quite vague about this but I think I actually liked someone online whom I never met. And twice. Then I played cards. I played the trading card games where you find people loitering outside the mrt stations. Yea, you might have seen me. It was a fun, addictive games. I spend my weekends joining competitions and a huge fortune on buying and selling. What a loser-ish way to spend my life. Really.

And the next-in was the age of Dota, where it swept Singapore. Most males in school at that time were infected with this syndrome. I played a lot then, day and night. And my ego was as lofty high and I could never have endured someone putting me down without giving him a big tight slap or a whole paragraph signed of with passionate sarcasm. And I think it was during that period where I was so addicted to badminton. I played like on average six times a week or more. I had two official trainings which are external and I had two coaches at one point of time. I played high intermediate recreational badminton with "uncles" whom I met at the sports complex. They usually invite me back to play with them which is nice because everything is accessible and free. (though I'm not very sure, about the chronological order of all the things I've mentioned, they probably co-existed sometimes).

This is how I moved on. Junior College. And now my fascination with piano and classical music.It seems so random how I move along to things. If someone was once passionate about soccer he might find himself hooked to tennis down the road because they are fundamentally both sports. As for me, from a geek, to sports, to music. And that does not include my lower secondary days where I actually had interest in computers to read up on programming. (but yes, I don't remember anything). People seemed to think I was good at computers during that period because I used the computer for so many hours. It wasn't very fashionable some like 5-6 years back to stay online perpetually so I guess I tried to make myself seem more "serious" rather than just goofing around watching anime or playing games.

Since there is no pattern, we cannot extrapolate. I shall just cling to whatever I am doing right now tightly because I want it to remain this way. Many people have told me that I will not change anymore. When I ask them why. They say because my scary determination and loyalty to the piano is frightening. I'm really scared of that someday it is naturally being taken away from me. If they understood how drastically I could change, yea, maybe they would sympathize. If change is the only constant, what is constant then?

I pretty much wished I could have put better use to the power rangers and beyblade days. As a child I had fascinations with tamiya cars (sorry if you're from a different generation). but yes, I completed Pokemon like more than ten times on several versions. I sit there and play for four hours just like how I go on the piano nowadays. Maybe times have changed, but perhaps, perhaps, I am starting to feel that I am fundamentally the same as the person I was when I was nine or ten.

Simply, when I like something. it's either all out or nothing.

Annoying

Why do people have to come paint my house now, they are standing at my window with some lame retarded elevator kind of thingy and they are making a whole lot of noise. Plus they have a beeper that beeps (super annoying!) at some 140 beats per minute at f#. Super annoying! I can't even watch my show in peace.

Incompetent Part 2

I just watched a video documentary on youtube which sparkled many thoughts in my already swirling head.

People with autism or various neurological disorders sometimes may possess great phenomenal talent or incredible affinity for something) and these people are known to have the Savant Syndrome. In this case, (or video) musical genius Derek Paravincini is one. [video link:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kwjDLHX92w]. This man in his middle twenties is BLIND, and suffers disorders. He cannot count to ten, and struggle with the basic stuff that we all find easy. YET he can remember every single piece of music, and is able to reproduce it on the piano. You might mistake him for another prodigy hoax (some blind person goes up stage and play a badly messed Fantasie Impromptu, sounds familiar), but nope. this is the real deal. He has some technical competency to play The Flight of the bumblebee. He pulls off many stunts.

1) He could reproduce a highly complex musical piece having it heard only once.
2) Neurological study (from brain sensors) somewhat showed that he sensed every single wrong note in audio being played to him with deliberate mistakes. (yes, every single one showed a sudden sparkle of brain activity showing that he realized it)
3) He accompanies a violinist with spontaneous improvisation which is a flawless and creative.
4) He could compliment an orchestra by simulating the sounds he heard from ALL the instruments with arpeggios which go up and forth with different notes to express everything he heard. What a feat!
5) He could identify a clashing 10 note being banged on a chord and reproduce it at ease.
6) He remembers everything he hears.

I actually feel a tinge of envy when I was watching, while of course clapping my hands and stomping my feet in excitement. Shock, awe. Because it actually speaks and haunts me just like any other thing. I'm supposed to play for Worship this Friday and not only I am incompetent and inexperienced, this is the first ever time I'm exposed to chords and playing an accompaniment. The reason why I say suppose to is because have half a mind to back out. At most, I am a classical person (note: I did not say pianist here) who learns by reading rigid scores and plays note to note while syncing the left hand and right hand together through meticulous practice and repetition. Surely I am not supposed to know when the chord is supposed to just change out of nowhere.

The flimsy piece of paper or the pseudo score is something like lyrics with some alphabets written on it. It is actually the full instruction manual to playing something like that. This is no easy feat for me. Because the instruction manual had forgotten to say something like "genius not included. sold separately ". Initially I thought that the words are put in line with where the chord changes but I was in for a big surprise. No, they change accordingly sometimes to when they are supposed to change. And when is that? There is really no explanation that anyone can give me except "when they feel like it changed". Is this something that everyone has, and I'm just missing out something here?

And yes. Playing melodies by ear. I can't freaking do that. Why, because I am a semi genius as Jasmine put it. I can mistake A flat for A sometimes and I only get tones right like 80% of the time. This shows I am not born with something legendary known as perfect pitch. Mozart transcribed orchestrated piece (spanning more than an hour) note for note after having heard it once. And so why so I struggle with the simplest of worship songs. Incompetency?

Now, people say I'm gifted when I run on the keyboard only after two years. I have shocked most people whom have heard this two years thing of mine. La Campanella is difficult really, even considered virtuosic by virtuosos and so I certainly do require a certain amount of talent to play these. Even Chopin Etudes are no easy feat though I don't play them exactly up to a desired standard YET. But still, I always believed you either have it, or you don't. Not freaking only having half of the whole biscuit.

I'm always wavering. Solely surviving on passion which is about to withstand the trials of time and isolation. Maybe two years down the road, I will be a new person. I will not meddle with fire anymore lest I get burn. I will not attempt any transcendental material. Maybe I will be flying kite somewhere (a less pressurizing hobby perhaps). Everything, in the name of a hobby. Why do I aspire to play Liszt's Feux Follets or Rachmaninoff Concertos someday. Why can people sit down and listen to a piece without feeling the inevitable fire to sit down and start learning the piece? So even if I had managed to finish all Chopin etudes and Liszt transcendentals maybe by age twenty five so what. I will never be there because I started too late. Maybe even if I started early I might not have enough "raw material". Evgeny Kissin started piano at age two, and at one a half years he was already humming Beethoven's Rage over the lost penny which he heard his sister playing. At age two, I was even incompetent at sucking my own thumb.

Maybe the battle here is with myself. not to compete too much with what I aspire to be. I did not exactly intend treat whatever so seriously but when it comes to passion I can go a little overboard. Obsessive. or too serious. This is what it means to me. Many people have told me to go, go and serve. But it is not the unwillingness but the incompetency. Really. Look how I struggle with simple chords and my lacking aural abilities. I think, even in what I think I'm good at, I'm only good at half of it. and because of it, I'm assumed to inherently possess everything.

Now, now. When I was younger. I remember there was this tuition class where I went to. I was maybe six, seven at that time. Maybe slightly older. The head of the tuition teacher, during the parent-teacher session had made a remark that got me thinking at that tender age and I still remember it till today. He said " Oh Mr and mrs so and so, your son is very easy going. Happy go lucky. " and he smiled. An Indian man I still remember. And that point, I was thinking " is it really good to be happy go lucky". Till today, many people still perceive me this way but if you get to know me better you will realize how difficult I am as a person. My lofty standards for things which aren't supposed to be so high. Though I may appear languid, heck-care, nonchalant or whatever you name it. I think I am starting to develop a perfectionist character. Moving forward, yet putting enough friction between willingness and unwillingness to generate enough heat for conflict. Till today. I just think that sleeping in class, not handing homework does not make one nonchalant, not perfectionist, or worst, immature. I just happen to see things very differently, every time. I wonder why.

Somehow I feel that whatever I am feeling now is just the urge to create emotional drama. Life is surprisingly and disturbingly peaceful nowadays. I have to provoke myself at even the tiniest of things to invoke a kind of emotional satisfaction. When you introspect, you reflect under the moonlight, under the effect that melancholic ambiance of the night, is where somehow you feel at ease. You feel soothed, and relaxed by feeling sad. I don't know, I always get that feeling. Comparing myself with prodigies make me feel sad. Inspired, but sad. Not many things survive relativity, let alone people.

The stupidest thing of all. I can feel inspired one moment, then discouraged the next and this repeats about ten or so times a day. I really cannot endure this sinusoidal torment.

Incompetent

So what now. I can't play by ear, nor transpose nor play chords to a song or what the crap. Incompetency at it's best. So what does flying fingers on revolutionary etude mean anyway. I'm just a machine. Bite the bullet or give up.

I'm Ineffectively bilingual

Just returned by Synod Youth leaders Camp. A pretty much a fatigue inducing camp. I survived today with barely about three hours of sleep! (take my insomnia variation as a form of jet lag, or worst). A very informative camp, which lasted one night and two days (not much of a camp eh). The time table suffered from a lack of games, and a plethora of workshops and sermons which pretty much were the point of the leadership camp.

The ride to Bethel's was really an awkward ride in the Glory chinese bus. There was a weird resonance of sounds which made conversations seem twisted when one concentrates and listens. multi-conversations going on at a same time! can't really get much sleep in the bus eh!

We finally arrived. A stone grey-black monument high and lofty greeted us. Bravo! It was the gate-like thingy where the bus zoomed past! A new territory we entered! And then we arrived in a considerably large empty space which was supposedly the car park. Along the sides were a patch of green grass (assumed to be for recreational/flora and fauna 's sake), a mini basketball court, a decent size children's playground, and some monkey bars. It looked so empty, open, vast, and gigantic. The church building was coated with a nice stained glass finish, all colorfully transparent-opaque and radiantly glamorous.

Some of us could not resist the patch of grass for some random Frisbee throwing, but I stayed away as usual, admiring the fences along the church whereby slightly beneath the elevated land were landed properties. The canteen was pretty small, several tables and that was mainly it. Chicken rice we devoured and filled out pathetic empty stomachs and soon enough we got ourselves "registered" (in fact, more of attendance house keeping). Soon enough, the starting ceremony begun, and then greeted with sermon number one. The time table was intimidating. Only one hour of night games amidst the multifarious "stone and stare" sessions (of course with useful information diffusion though!) that at some point of time I worried if my butt could withstand the strain of having sit through many many hours of sermon/workshop!

The games were barely passable. And that alone, is really an overstatement. One game involved several sacrifices putting their hand into a freezing hot pail of water. Cold I mean. I tried dipping merely one fingernail in and believe me the ice smelt of Antarctica. Amazing how they manage to keep their hands in the pot of doom for such a long period of time. Everyone cheered, some stared with eyes that pop out in disbelief. It was the game of "endurance". And then I suddenly could empathize how people have been suffering in silence from my cold jokes. Cold is certainly not good, and I will reinforce my point soon enough later .

Another game involved three people blowing a balloon till it bursts. I don't really find it fun. I think sadistic people were involved in the planning of this game (or creation). mainly because all you do is hear girls shriek out in their soprano voices at highest possible frequency. I think that was the torture, not the exploding balloons (which were seriously unhealthy noise to the ear!). Not a game about guts, but a game about going through the motion, and boring every single person on both teams. But no, these sacrificial balloons were not a game, in fact they were the prelude to the real game. Great! An amazing tuck of war between two train of girls using a piece of cloth. We did not have anyone from the World wrestling federation, so obviously we lost. However, not because of strength (which seems to be overly emphasized by the station ironically named, "strength station"), but because the cloth slipped off our team's fingers. So, another bad game.

The next game they had installed was bible quiz. Name all 66 books of the bible chronologically with the aid of a bible in front of you. the most contradictory stuff I have ever seen, let alone game. Well, kudos to their effort because they actually did print out stuff for us to write on despite how minute that might be. Also a random bible quiz which I never really took part in. I was at the other section helping out at the 66 books of the bible chronologically thing.

Last but not least, we had this game of emotional charades. Given a line, a volunteer is supposed to say that line, portraying one emotion out of the sixty something random emotions given on a piece of emotional menu given to us by the facilitators. The only game which could have been decent if not for the continuous but random explosions of bursting balloons which had the entire annex hall engulfed. That was the minor, the major involved people pulling a piece of cloth across the already very confined annex hall. The shout, whines, wails and even the idle chatter of the righteously sian people played their own part in making these charades diminish into an inaudible level.

A night of disappointment, albeit the good effort. I hardly took part actually. The post game disorganization led the groups into circles playing their own choice of "motion in the circle" games which includes who what huh. You might not believe it but that was the amazingly most fun part of the night. Wow, really, until I got forfeited.

I had to complain about the already miserable time slot for games, but I think the lack of creativity in the games were exigent enough for me to dedicate some time to write about. Actually it wasn't the creativity. Soaking your hand in ice cold water is an awesome amazing fabulous wonderful creative idea, (whoever who thought of it), but apparently it isn't really very fun. Just one example, figure the rest your self. It wasn't really stations anyway, more of just a haphazard mass of people in Brownian motion in an confined area.

Well, enough said. I guess most energy were lost to either freezing in cold water or sound energy released. So the rest of the night was dedicated to supper and sleep. What everyone was in dire need of. We proceeded to the bunks and it was so amazing to see a piano in the room! Oh wow I was delighted for once but then as I pressed the keys, the keys sunk like titanic of no return. It was an old yamaha piano, not even three quarters the size of a respectable upright. Opening the lid, it was nothing but a messy hammering faulty mechanism that will not respond. Oh wow, so much for the temptation.

The night was young at one in the morning. I tossed right and left only to be greeted by a fully clad in red (and red sleeping bag) Jonathan Goh Wen Quan who was laying motionless in a very spooky context. The paleness in the fantasized "bewitching hour" or the hour or twilight gave me creeps and chills oscillated my spine. I turned around, in deep remorse, and never turned back again.

The handphone clock strikes three and by then, Cinderella's shoes are now owed with interest, but I had a problem with jet lag-ish insomnia. I decided to unleash my bible and memorize the 66 bible books in order. Which I managed to, except some sections gave me some difficulties. It was a temporal memorization which is stored in my cache so do not expect me to fluently (or by any means, successfully!), recite all of them to you anytime soon.

I only managed to fall asleep at four, and I woke up at six to shower. Waking up early as never a motivation only until I saw two delicious grand piano waiting for me (in unlocked sanctuaries) for me to try when no one is looking (or awake). I'm not very sure if it's ethical but I suppose I don't have one ton fingers which will damage their hammers and render them titantic! Not going into detail but the grand piano was apparently not in good condition (upper registers!). Aww. And I never got to try the one in the main hall.

Shower, with gelid ice cold blizzard snow flakes. The shower tap was an ice beam, and icicle shot of water was really something I really do not need 6am in the morning. of course, the worst part was the cubicle had no space to put towels nor clothes! So much for complaining, I actually only spent a grand total of about 6 minutes and 43.2 seconds in there.

So the day approached. One hour of devotion, (which was manageable), then it was one and a half hours of workshop on how to counsel. Don't want to go into the details but it was fairly engaging initially but it went from good to bad, then to worst as time dragged on and the content got a little repetitive. Most of the stuff are simple, too simple to be true. In fact, they are so basic that most people know them. But I guess a little reorganization would help! So finally, we staggered into the 1 hour lunch break. The heavy breakfast (fried fat in Styrofoam), was too much for my stomach to handle without much rest (sleep!) so I skipped lunch all together. I landed myself in the annex cry room's sofa, pretty much drooling myself away to lalaland.

Accomplishment? I got up like right on time to get out, washed my face, get some coffee and head back for Worship and another round of two hour workshop. I don't want to go into the details but I was urged to go up and get some public counseling by the doctor in psychology.Haphazard confusing and rather awkward it became, and some people actually felt it was too fake. Well, it was partially true to those who are curious. Other than that, I don't really know myself.

So well, everyone was limping out of the sanctuary after the fourth hour of workshop we have not including devotion and worship which were all consecutively planned. The next installed was a one and a half hour bilingual sermon. I braced myself, still feeling awkwardness from that public "awkward" exposure. But well, everyone's head drifted to and fro. The information presented were meaningful and decent at worst but the fatigue was overwhelming. The earliest anyone could possibly have slept was one midnight and I suppose most people woke up in the middle wondering where the symphony of snores were coming from. (or it was sure the blizzard outside). Restlessness engulfed the sanctuary, but the message still was quite valid, clear and spoke to some of us at certain points, despite all the fatigue. I was still listening, at least keeping myself awake by doodling on the paper of notes (whoops). Turning our heads back would bring a devastating realization that many people were kidnapped by aliens! Wohoo! they went home! Oh wow.

So we stayed, closing ceremony and clean up. followed. I learn alot, but I have yet to digest and unwrap everything learn from fatigue.

And yes. The worship presented were of gradual vertigo intensities. The first of which, had really powerful drums. I feel that they have something against the dear innocent audience's ear drums! Because they were gonging and clashing like chinese new year lion dance and the songs sung were as strange as cheese tofu with strawberry, longans and some french fries. And worst still, when I was almost fainting from one song which was defying the safe decibel standards, they lyrics had " make it louder ". Maybe I do have Pentium one ear drum after all.

The best, Glory Chinese had the best worship of all with just the grand piano and the guitar, singing hymns and melodious chinese songs without abusing the drums and the ear drums! But the worst part was they somehow assumed that people could read chinese without the all so necessary lengendary han yu pin ying below the "oh i forgot how to read that again" character. Believe it or not, I struggled with the simplest of words.

Says something.

Not effectively bilingual.

Forgive my incomplete cadence.

I don't know anymore

Maybe it's time to sleep. but...

I realize I have three weeks more, exactly. And worst still, they have to be so nice to enlist me just before everyone goes for March Holidays. Yes, the moment whereby all of you will rejoice and celebrate your upcoming one week of freedom will be the moment I begin my enslavement for two years. I am only able to console myself that it is far worst to have enjoyed one week of "playing" and to go in right after that. I shall bite the bullet. I feel more mentally prepared already, and time does help.

Today I started watching a new show. It was to curb my cold turkey on Lost. A Japanese drama entitled "Absolute Boyfriend". Another one of the "fall in love with Robot" kind of plot. Pretty cheesy and the theme usually gets repeated in variations. Superficially, another funny, comedic type of plot, but deeper we will realize that human love is weak. (which is dramatically emphasized by " we can fall in love with electrical appliances that look like human). Sigh. I don't really want to comment much. My lifelessness has been accentuated by the fact that I just finished five episodes today and it was just like no time lost at all.

Sometimes, I wonder where things are going. The draconian impracticality of matters at hand makes it hard to commit to anything, big or small. The fog of the future does really blind, and there are no bearings to sail to. The fact that there is no future to look at makes it all surreal and at the same time, enchanting to a certain extent. No stress, no commitments and anything because there is not much of a future in my liberty nor the liberty of my future. The next two years is where I will probably change, whether I like it or not, for the good or the bad. However, I would say that life now is imbued with relaxation because the "live day by day" mindset makes it all easier. The situation whereby we usually cajole ourselves into believing that the freedom of choice is actually an affliction, rather than a privilege. There is no time, no choice or anything.

Tomorrow is Synod Camp, and I am looking forward to it. Following which, I have some time to clear up stuff. Finish my G flat major etude and Liebestraum. Hopefully play them for people. And also the other stuff which I promised to learn. And then off I go. No hopes, no future, no pride, no nothing. There goes everything including my hair. but wait, this is too early a moment to say my last words!

Embrace the ephemeral, the remaining of the halcyon days.

Out of twelve

The sun converts my house into an oven. Oh wow. I hate noon. I should stay awake all night and then sleep all noon because I hate the heat, which sucks all will to do anything. And that includes practice. (despite the aircon full blast).

I saw a few buns of good looking bread downstairs, and in my intense midnight hunger (and craving for some supper), I had half a mind to steal someone else's breakfast for tomorrow. How evil! But I did not! I think if I had prepared from nice looking nice smelling bread for myself the next morning and it goes missing (and into another man's stomach), my anger valves will totally snap out of control.

Suffering from Lost withdrawal symptoms. Suddenly when I want to stay up late (whoops), there's nothing to do. I managed to wake up 9am the other morning so I suppose my cycle is still quite under control. It's displaced back to normal slightly, and I need a little extra effort (and a push!) to go back to normal). The ant invasion ceased because of something my maid did (still have no idea). It suddenly feels like a privilege to be able to leave a full cup of ribena on my desk untouched. HEHE

Today I finally manage to record two of my etudes. Tried and rerecorded only as far as my patience allowed. mostly only two or three tries on each.

Chopin's Opus 10 Nr 12. (revolutionary)
For some reason, I am 30 seconds slower than the average professional and about 50 seconds slower than the recording breaking professional. I feel so depressed. I guess it's still slow, not at it's full glory yet. I still need to practice more. Anyway, for layman sake, this etude is for the left hand. (technical exercises). I hate recording this piece because my concentration always wavers in the middle.






Opus 10 Nr 4

Nicknamed the "torrent". I actually struggled really bad with this piece like some half a year plus back, but now I spent 3 weeks relearning it and now it's up and running again. If you notice I have a metronome plugged into my left ear while playing this piece. I set it at around 160-165BPM (whereby the fast professionals play at usually 180BPM).




I actually aim to complete chopin's opus 10. Because they are not only musical masterpieces but important exercises/benchmark of technique. out of twelve, two down. Ten more to go. I'm doing the G flat Black Key etude now. I actually aim to finish it and have it running in three weeks! (i'm just done memorizing half in a few days!)

Very non-relevant post to the people who come here to read about me whining about not being able to sleep.

I'm just not posting on facebook because I suddenly don't like the idea of my video alerting (the standard "ty posted a video" thing) thousand and one people whom I'm not familiar with/lost touch with/don't even know.

Monsoon Badminton

The first time I actually did something productive and healthy in the morning. Well, I was invited to some social badminton by Leon's dad, Uncle Norman to play with them at Clementi Sports hall. Clementi (not the composer) is somewhere I find it unfamiliar and so I got Ronald to come with me also partly because I was shy and me and him were on a pending "when want go play badminton thing". And so we went. The courts were under renovation and apparently under some senior citizen scheme they could book the courts (for free!). And because of that, the security auntie actually chased us away. But with some rigorous debate, Uncle Norman managed to make some agreements so that we could play. Damn, I thought we looked like senior citizens! (0.o)

Been approximately two years since I actually picked up the racket and played. Only once in awhile, occasions don't exactly count, outdoor playing not counted as well. Well, I would say the conditions was pretty fine, albeit the nasty occasional wind. I call it the aircon or the monsoon. Either way, the upper portions of the indoor court was actually outdoor! The courts were just at about the entrance (open entrance in fact), and so the winds could surge in! Well, the billowing winds actually redirected the birdie's path more than once. I struggled with rust. Pure Iron rust. I was happy enough to retrieve much of my lob and drop shots but the rest are still, quite shabby. I can barely net, let alone do a skillful cross net. The worst is when your reflexes go down so much. It's a bad experience when your body defies your logic. Like "it's going there" (brain auto-targeting into opponent's temporal empty space). then "poof" OUT or into the net. Imagine a video game, I was playing the same character, just with all that stat points removed. For most of the day I teamed with Ronald. The game was the same, the court was the same, the just several levels down to what I used to play, a very sad experience, but still amidst that, I had a lot fun. It's been awhile I felt the joy of badminton. Back then, I played till the point of mental and physical saturation (aka, point of burn out). I disliked badminton for awhile, and then now the fire is burning again. Though I don't think I will ever start to go all "chiongster" and "hardcore". Even regaining my old self was a questionable goal, and even that, is not really good enough. Just barely intermediate recreational level.

(so now anyone want to jio me for badminton?)

Back to the real world. It's still early. Ronald may be coming over to run later. Maybe. I suddenly feel the guilt for being a couch potato relieved. This is where everything becomes so guilt free and where I start to douse myself with a myriad of soft sweet fattening drinks (Ronald says my house is liquid paradise). (viscous cycle!) I agree because my fridge is never running out of stock of the packet/can drinks. I can drink the entire day. Maybe few years down the road, I will need kidney dialysis.

After all that healthy exercise this morning, it's finally time to exercise my fingers!

The discovery

I slept for some 20 minutes. Then I woke up because I felt as if I had enough sleep. Thats it! Rejuvenated equally as one would have in one night's of sleep. No, I am bound to get tired very soon. But just sometimes are not meant to be-sleeping early.

I realized that most things are either easy or impossible. Doing the right things with the right way may increase the odds but ultimately if something isn't easy it is still impossible. There really isn't any "so-so" situation. When you do something and there is an non-negligible failure rate you know that it is still impossible. Flying is also easy or impossible. Easy to a bird, but difficult to a dog. Somethings are predetermined. Our human arms will never take us into the sky. The fact that we do it once sometimes, does not really mean it has turned from impossible to easy. Easy is when you do it right all the time-somewhere I want to be.

It sucks when you wake up one day to find that the thing you have been building over the past few months have been nothing but fake. you set high standards for yourself. you try jumping across the barrier but then you fall miserably with a miserable thud on to the ground some thousand floors beneath. When you misjudge your own ability, or underrate your own talent. That is when the wavering confidence will come in and torment you. Because that sucks. Really. It's gone.

I realize a particular someone has been actually badmouthing me. But I am not at all baffled because I know the mechanisms of jealousy,pride, mild hatred, and maybe overwhelming immaturity at work. And because of that, I will not confront. Surprisingly, I do understand.

Sometimes I am thankful when people just don't like me and we both know it so it's so much simpler than putting up a facade.

Scherzo

Not a lot effort, but the right effort. Here's a tiny story:

An old Zen master used to work in the temple gardens every morning. And every morning he would see a young novice rush through the garden in the direction of the meditation hall. On day the old master stopped the novice and asked him: “Where are you going in such a hurry?” I am going to the meditation hall in order to sit in meditation for the next twelve hours”. The old master seemed bewildered. “Why are you meditating so much?” “So that I get enlightened” the young monk replied. “Ah!” said the old master.

The next day, as the young monk once again rushed through the garden he noticed the old Zen master sitting in the grass by a large pile of bricks. He had a piece of sand paper in one of his hands, a brick in the other, and was vigorously sanding the brick. The young monk could not contain his curiosity, and stopped to ask the old man: “What are you doing, reverend master?” I am polishing bricks. And I intend to do it for twelve hours every day.” “Yes, I can see that” said the young monk, “but why?”

The master gave the novice a sly look and said in a whisper: “So that I can make a mirror!”

I like this story somehow. I guess the morale of the story is very straightforward and self explanatory.

Well. Back to the real world, the sun was blazing and irritatingly scorching today. The sun was relentlessly evil. We played tennis with the older, (much more skillful) bunch of people. Initially I was quite hyped up but halfway through I realized the sun had made me perspire so much that I constantly have perspiration on my face! And then of all times, in the midst of all that sweaty pandemonium I actually hit ball two levels down into an inaccessible car park. I walked several thousand miles to get there, and I suddenly discovered a stairway back up which took less than 2 minutes to get back to the courts (albeit all that stinky smell and whitish disgusting liquid spilled all over the ground which I highly suspect to be dried paint). By the time I got up, I totally had no mood to play. A bad headache was starting to emerge and it was annoying. Certainly not life threatening, but, it was pretty annoying. So much that I sat out for the next hour or so. And so I did not play much. What a wasted day!

And so now, I am left with a month. My approach. Playfully. Like a scherzo.

Valentine

I had a date today and it can be found on my calender. My predictions did come true. I slept in, and indeed, I wiggled in bed. And before I knew it, I was already at the Valentine event at church. It was pretty much a lot of fun, and the talk was funny though cheesy at some points. Saw a lot new faces, or the faces "you see at these events but not regularly". But still, it's friendship day, albeit all the implications behind the traditional meaning of "valentine".

Had tennis at approaching midnight again. And then when we were on the cab back home. My mum's message came in.

(rephrased..)
Mum:Dad is asleep. take a taxi or bus home.
Me:Oh we are on a boat by the canal.
Mum:Whatever
(exact same message!)

Proves my mum has some sense of humor!

Read an article yesterday. "Agile wings, not muscular legs" shows how we should keep in mind that most things these days are about efficiency and technique rather than brute force. the brain outsmarts everything, and it is the crucial first step to start introspecting "am I doing the right thing". Super effective here, is not only super effective (like how it is in pokemon back there), but it might be the only way. I think this applies to playing the piano. Many a times I try to grind it through, "muscle" it through. Get it all into my muscle memory without ever thinking if it's the most possible efficient movement possible. Maybe it's time for me to start thinking more. This applies to many other things. Instead of muscling it through, many a times we just need to find another way. Just like only wings can overcome gravity, not that extra pounds of muscles on your thighs. I like this analogy very much.

Okay, pertaining to a previous post. Jasmine just commented that she doesn't know if Mozart's K330 is in C major or C minor. Oh well. but sadly besides the other Mozart that my brother is playing for his examination, I hardly listen to any Mozart and that is really sad. Somehow I feel that being inclined towards Bach or Mozart, or Baroque works shows more "sophisticated listening". What I am inclined towards is Ear Candy, which is flashy virtuosic pieces like Liszt or Chopin which makes it very pleasing to the ear but have no musical depth. I feel guilty, really.

The intensity of things will take a huge step up in the days to come. More dreadful things draw closer, which I even refuse to talk about. (Not like it will change anything.)

And yes. I finally realize I'm pirated free. The reason why most people actually infringe copyright laws is because of the music they download. But now that I don't, I'm actually not infringing any copyright laws. So right now I have the right to go BOO at the the pirates (of the swimming pool?) and even the Wii games I have are original. Not bootleg! Hooray! Yes I know, cheap thrill.

Sometimes I do wish I have bigger hands. Surprisingly, much more than many other things.

And found, at last

I've finally watched all the Lost episodes which are available. To date, episode 5 of season 5. All 70 episodes. Yes. Though I did not had the liberty, and the time, to actually digest all that pandemonium throughout the series.

Here begins my review of it.(albeit a very unprofessional one). For people who never seen the series, maybe you can read, but you may not understand.

If there had to be major plus point about Lost is that it is able to keep the viewers very engaged in all that drama. The sociology involved is mild relative to the scientific/mystic/arcane phenomenons which strike the island continually. A myriad of mysteries, some which gets solved and some don't. But my gut feeling says that the writers do have a complete picture to the entire story.

Very innocently, this a story of random people from all walks of life meeting on a deserted island, surviving a plane crush. However, four seasons down the road. We discover that the story has extended it's arm to a full fledged time travel theory. Some information I've read suspect four dimensional characters in the series. Throughout, there are characters with an uncanny arcane yet distinct ability to communicate with the incommunicable. Namely, "the island", of the "dead people". The semi main characters do get eliminated along the way, which suggests that this isn't just a heroic endeavor by our team of suave and beautiful heroes waiting to save the day. I have to admit I'm becoming a huge fan of the plot, aka the scientific stuff which are slowly being introduced. The fantasy of time travel, which is substantiated by a very solid scientific theory (albeit fiction), being so real.

The characters are an interesting bunch. John Locke is one mystifying character but sometimes I can hate him so much. He is always doing things unpredictable, completely counter intuitive, and even killing innocent people and backs it up with " I'm supposed to do so ". Early in the series, he referred the death of one of his people as "the sacrifice the island demanded". Despite all that arcane talk, he does really "sacrifice himself" if he would be required. The man that would do anything to satisfy his curiosity. He keeps me guessing all the time. But it gets very annoying sometimes when he does things which show frailness or whatsoever. I really don't comprehend enough. I guess that is another even more mystifying "lost inducing" part of the series.

Michael, the man who killed two of his people just to rescue his son from the "others" who kidnapped him. A typical father who would do anything to save his son. Parental love at it's best. I beg to differ because I feel that he portrays plain and empirical selfishness. A construction worker at the real world, while the mother of his son, does not see future prospects out of his condition. Being unemployed, being a useless bump, I ain't feeling very favorable of his " give me back my son " sorry state because he does not deserve it. Weak, and wussy. Always chasing after his son despite not knowing anything about him and his only reason is "because I'm his father".

In my humble opinion, Kate, Sawyer and the rest are all boring characters. Predictable. Jack can something be a jackass but he is good natured. He does have the image of a democratic leader, and he has leadership qualities marked over all his actions and words. (only until John Locke rebelled against him). Ben Linus is another well carved character. The brains who does manipulate people at every possible corner and finds himself always having what he wants. A sly, possible villain. but no one is actually bad, everyone is always righteous and doing the right thing in his own perspective. Thats why the world is so complex, and difficult to comprehend because sometimes the writer shows a character murdering, and then the next moment he is helping someone who is about to die. You don't really know who the bad guy is. (though after awhile, most characters do become predictable). And when they do, they bring in new characters.

The only downside of the show is that we have to put up with flashbacks/developments of characters we find ubber boring. Hurley for example, was one pain in the neck. Some characters don't really entertain so much to fill that one hour episode because they aren't naturally going to continue the moving plot. Whenever it was the episode of any of the regulars, it would be a decently fun episode because the plot is actually moving along. Inversely, some episodes seem like a total filler. (by the way, mostly every episodes have flashbacks of one character and develops the character. By season four, the style was changed)

Ultimately I still find it a very captivating series. Something worth following and something worth getting hyped up about. I think it beats Heroes hands down (I start to realize that the people writing the Heroes plot aren't that clever). Heroes is known to be cool without a solid plot, always running around in haphazard directions and thus explains why so many people say it sucks to the core. Prison break was good was it lasted. still nice in my opinion. But lost, actually does surpass these two shows.

The coming valentine

I'm not going to type much. I have a blister on the index finger on my left hand. It hurts to type.

Tomorrow is Valentine's day but I guess the programme of the day says "wake up at 1pm. wiggle in bed, then head to church for the event. after that, have a simple dinner, then wiggle back into bed.". the 19th valentine day single. Should I pop a champagne? HAHA

Making some sense

Yes, yes. The first thing you would read is me ranting about trying to fall asleep. I really suspect I have insomnia or one of it's variants. But no. I just turn back to see my semi filled cup of milo infested with ants! So cute! I highly suspect I should get a better phone with a better camera because it doesn't give a good view of the ants. They look like part of the decoration of the cup. Just when I was about to say ants dislike milo when my half filled cup was left totally untouched (maybe not?). I'd like to think that I did not consume my dear tiny little black friend when I took a sip some twenty minutes ago. Ants are attracted to sweet things, maybe thats why I find ants crawling on my body! AH-ha.

Now back to my original rant. I realize I have a lot thought in my head before I go to bed. Everything I try to sleep, I get more refreshed instead. The standard procedure goes like this. One tiny pulse of vertigo hits me, then I'm like 'yay so am I allowed to sleep now' (sad that we don't really have full control over our body!). I go lie in my bed, in fervent hopes that I get to dreamland soon. But no, instead. I get more refreshed! So what the heck is going on!

I think it was yesterday when I was about to get some practice when my little brother was practicing with my mum supervising him. My mum called me in to listen to his exam pieces. And so I did. I stood beside and my mum asked him to play something for me. He nodded, and begun. As soon as the first few notes were played my maid walked in and my mum started having a casual conversation with her. Now, at that point I found it unbearably rude and disrespectful even to a little 7 year old boy. And so I flared up at my mum, and she flared back at me. Now, any person would think I was in the wrong. People think I'm having my PMS (or maybe male variant of it). or maybe my emotional oscillations took it's maximum displacement again. But no. This is always overlooked. But no, this kind of etiquette. A form of musical respect, is lacking in many many people. And that is what I've realized. It's common to so many people that it becomes overlooked and levitates itself from the status of being a crime. And so I slammed the door behind. And as usual, everyone thinks I got worked up for nothing. And I believe she still doesn't freakin know her mistake. People don't realize it, even after I tell them. Sadly. And this is the second time I've ranted about this. Morale of the story, when people are playing, listen.

Amongst many people, I realize some people have really drastic reactions to the piano. Some abhor the piano, some detest it to various levels. Some are willing to listen once in awhile, but not willing to play at all. Even people who are throughly qualified aren't exactly very passionate about whatever they are doing. I wonder why is it that not many people know whether Mozart's K330 is in C major or C minor, and how many people have heard Beethoven's Emperor Concerto. And personally I feel that it's a crime have not heard Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto.

Okay I am going to be specific here. Few days ago, at the party. Joy asked me, why do I only listen to such stuff. I said, "I have all these, what else more do I need". Classical music is limitlessly. There are so many hidden gems out there which I have no discovered. Listening to all the Beethoven Piano Sonatas would take alone hours and hours, let alone all his Symphonies, his Quartets and so on, (which I haven't really listen to yet), and that alone is one composer. What about Haydn, Mozart, Bach, Scarlatti, Liszt, Chopin, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumman, Rachmaninoff, Scriabin, Tchaikovsky, Brahms , Ravel. I only have a mere few pieces from most of the composers listed here, and my whole classical playlist does span more than a mere few hours. I am here only as an advocate, not a freaking terrorist-style obsessed maniac.

(As a disclaimer, I by no means, have the intention of offending anybody, or any group of people. I come in peace, merely standing by my own stand, in a very passive tranquil manner. )

I miss the time in school not for tutorials and lectures but only one reason. It was because I had a friend there which I could talk to him about. Where we could discuss why the revolutionary etude is not a so darn hard etude after all, and we could talk about the concert we watched last night or whose interpretation was the darn best on youtube.

And people, these my friend, are PIECES, not songs.

Rhythm

...is the longest word without a vowel?

Recently I have received two contradicting responses pertaining to my blog. Joy said, " your blog is the most boring thing blah blah blah " and Jasmine asked me to keep blogging more because she likes to read. (FYI, I did not take chagrin to the former). But I do agree with the boring part because my life is getting pretty boring (Yes I know), and perhaps, right from the start, it has been boring all the while. A boring bald boar playing on a ball is such a bore. Take that! I know I know. all the artificial intelligence on my blog has vanished mysteriously, I start to post very nonsensical posts, things that do not have any profoundness in them. I start to write about the very mundane nature of my humdrum life. Pretty sad eh. I know I know. All attempts to make my life interesting will be nugatory. And all things that can go wrong will go wrong according to Murphy's Law. (See, I have just proven myself right!)

Anyway like any other day I struggled to get myself out of bed once again this bright and sunny Sunday morning. But I still manage to get to church in time for 1130 service. Ah well, I heard my YABC teacher is mad and is now looking for me. What happened to me, he asked. I'll just explain my sad and sorry state the next time. Yes, it's some kind of insomnia. (a self inflicted insomnia)

I know this is going to freak people out. There are ants crawling on my keyboard and boy they are so annoying. Because sometimes they crawl on my fingers. Well, there are a lot of dirt, food particles and maybe microscopic ant dung embedded between the keys. And that sucks because there is like no way to clean it (as far as I can think of). There ARE ants crawling IN an OUT of the keys. Ants, plural. And that alone is an understatement. But I reckon I could use some free labor or experiment if Ants do help to clean my keyboard. Maybe they will salvage the food they can from within, cleaning my keyboard during the process. And gosh I will be so thankful for that. But no, I don't think so. Whoops->three ants died alone in that word I believe.

I really have nothing much to say.

The yesterday

I'm weak and frail now from fatigue. Sleep was terrible last night somehow and I struggled to wake up again.

Yesterday I organized Tay Yong's birthday party, though inviting many people unrelated to him and none of his new primary one friends were actually involved, I'm sure he enjoyed himself with people from church instead. (which I still think it's a better idea). He received a myriad of presents, which kept him grinning from ear to ear. Of course, that's not the whole point. He really did enjoy himself. And I hope everyone else did as well.

3pm, the first people came. As predicted, they stuck to the Wii like glue. Not exactly a plethora of game choices, inversely, only one or two games were available from my miserable collection. Super Smash brothers brawl is a classic. I've been playing that for my parties since like primary school. (with that old lackluster Nintendo 64 ancient console), and then slowly we moved on to the sequel of the series Smash Brothers Melee on the GameCube and finally brawl on Wii. Yes, we're like a couple of years late, but who cares. They stuck to it like glue and I hope everyone had fun. I didn't really enjoy the game, basically because my Kirby B-attacks was restricted because I found the Up-Down controls of the Joystick of the Nun chuck very restricted.

By 5pm, the number of people started to grow. And there was a north south divide all of the sudden (or up down divide). Bryan Joan And Joy were somewhat repelled by the games (or something else) and took refuge at the third floor while some other little kiddos were playing the same game (smash bros) on one of the rooms on the third floor. Same game, but few years backdated. Soon, I found myself in the wandering nomadic clique which includes maybe me tim and dom and we were auto-roaming my house. Up down left right, thats how we endeavored. Slowly we found ourselves in the piano room where Glen was playing his pop tunes. Then Dominic started improvising Twinkle Twinkle little star and me tim and glen sang three different versions of it in unison. Bla bla black sheep, Twinle star and the ABC song with MIXED lyrics is so funny! But we got sick of it. Then we played the chromatic scale chase and who hits the middle C first whacks the other guy's hand. They figured they couldn't beat me. so they started to do glissandos and whack me, which is so lame!

Amidst the gaming and auto roaming some of us found ourselves at the park nearby hitting shuttlecocks. Been a long time since I picked up a racket and my skills are certainly rusty. The wind was evident, and the conditions weren't as how I use to know badminton as. (nice fine court with proper shoes, clothing and opponents). But it was still fun, somewhat. and the thing i like about parties in my house is because I can go home straight and hit the shower.

The 2nd wave of people who came from Jump arrived just in time for dinner. A series of mingling around and fellowship took place while some others were engaged in a "friendly" game of Wii tennis. (which was indeed quite fun, albeit all that unfamiliarity). As usual, the standard procedure took place when the time for cutting birthday cakes and singing birthday songs arrived. By then, some people have already left, disappeared. But there were still a substantial amount of people left.

Then one of tay yong's new toys took everyone's attention. It was a physics toy. Something called a "Rolling ball" (!!) Two silver metallic poles parallel to each other had an equally metallic (same material) ball on it where it lies on a plane whereby it is slightly elevated at an angle. The ball has to reach the other end(slightly higher ground where by it is elevated AGAINST). by just opening the two poles. The ball does move with some momentum and the goal is for the ball to ride against gravity, adhering to the two poles by somekind of momentum and friction to reach the other end. The plane whereby all is suspended on is marked by planets starting from Mercury to Pluto (some planets are omitted) and intuitively the goal is to hit pluto. It was a very frustrating and excruciatingly painful test of hand eye coordination as well as the dexterity of force from our fingers. the micro details of the translations of minute energy and force OR the technique involved seem totally critical at some point of time as all of us sat in a circle figuring out how to get the BALL to pluto. At last, after a thousand of tries (no exaggeration here), Nicholas was the first to get there. And then after he mastered the technique he repeatedly owned the game by reaching there 6 other times. Trust me, it ain't any easy feat. My brothers both got there at some point of time. But i didn't bother to try. Because even if I knew how, I could never control the two poles to such a micro extent. I shudder thinking of that as I would vibrate in uneasiness and cold sweat.

By then only a handful of people were left (most disappeared while we were trying to set foot on pluto). A game of Wii baseball concluded the night.

Photos are already up on facebook. (my dad took). and people have been tagged. I know this is so not me. But anyway, being the unofficial "organizer", I hope it was somewhat like a success. At some points it got really boring, I know. Forgive me for that.

Void

Things do not get better when you just hope they get better.

This is what I felt happened over the past few moments.

1) Disappointment in myself for not being able to even do simple no brainer stuff
2) Afraid to face my fears
3) The guilt and disappointment in losing something which I shouldn't be losing
4) Lack of inspiration, motivation or whatsoever. Giving up at the face of difficulties

Failure in mitigation

Wasted was today. I accomplished nothing! ( just like any other day any common person would point out ). Not even the primary goal of like restoring my sleep time. Of all days, the obvious strategy to employ was to make use of Sunday-the day I have to wake up for service/Sunday School etc. And that would force me to wake up early, which theoretically would force me to sleep early that day. Coupled with a powerful alarm the next morning, I would be able to wake up at a normal time (like say 9am, or 10am for instance). But this just proves my theory all wrong! Once the body clock is set, I have freaking no idea how much joules of energy and juices of determination would it require me to restore all that in working order! Mitigation failure. (partly also caused by my reluctance to go to bed)

You know, I'm really starting to feel so loser whining about bed time like every time I start the post. (If you have so much to say, just go to bed! solves everything huh. shoot me anyway).

Sometimes, oh sometimes I do really wonder why does my counter not reflect the feedback I am getting. It seems like at every corner, someone will go "hey I read your blog". or something along those lines. Really freaky at times, but trust me, I have grown accustomed to that. Any point of time I click that publish button I should expect every single person on this planet to have the chance of knowing that piece of information. (Even if it's the remotest stranger). but the counter ain't really moving isn't it. (!!) or is it. Sometimes I wonder why other people have counts that tower over mine, while I get feedback from so many people who actually tell me that they read my blog. So is it working or not. That is the question. (Maybe it's just a conservative counter.)

Finally the twitching eye of vertigo and the first wave of the drowsy bed beckoning is here! (*hops around*). And something tells me I will spend my next week organizing a party (in vain).

Oh yes. Welcome to the world where I realize that I am actually Wii-tarded. (Whew, finally something tangible to blog about after some like hundred words of stalling. Better get started lest I fail the content section huh). My parents, Yang and I were at this game master shop at Bukit Panjang Plaza poised to purchase that Wii that Yang was going hyped up about (MacBook for the insane 265+2, and now an additional Wii which probably felt like desert to the main course anyway). We could have gotten it earlier but my mum actually lost her wallet. (record holder of "not losing wallets" for 42 years). It's my "lose a wallet and not get a nagging" ticket, really and I appreciate that.

So we got what we wanted in a couple of swift minutes plus another few draggy minutes of "how to set up a Wii" by the shopkeeper. (can't find another title!?) I was being complacent, with that "who doesn't know how to set up a Wii". Being a snob, I walked out of the shop and floated along till the console got into the bags and the bags onto my dad's arms. Ah-ha.

I pretended not to care once I reached home (or maybe I did not really care after all), heading for the computer first. (classic). I am not very particularly keen in that Super Smash Bros Brawl and Wii Sports. This reminds me of my younger days when I bought a game cube just to play Super Smash bros. And sadly, that was the only game I ever played on that console. Pity I don't really have the hots for many games. Most of them actually turn me off. The only thing I ever appreciated fully was Pokemon. Classic, it's like the best game ever.

Finally finally, here comes the Wii-tarded part. My whole family was staring at the screen of Korean graffiti transmitted over our poor 50 something inch television wondering how we are going to operate and get the game started. A hundreds of " Oh the disc put wrong side! ", " Oh maybe they gave us a faulty machine " it took us to realize that OH it was too late for my poor little brothers who have the 6 am morning call tomorrow to continue meddling. With broken hearts and disheartened souls, they kept everything back neatly into that box. Not that I did not want to be of any useful help, I couldn't because, well, I was being a snob and did not listen to the instructions. (which I still believe would not be much of use). Apparently, I think there is something wrong with something, and that something will only be unraveled tomorrow noon. No I'm too lazy to go meddling on that little gadget early in the morning. I want to play, but I'm just too lazy to set up. But for the first time in my life, I kind of stare at Korean words and somewhat I start to hate them. Not because they look Wii-tarded. But just because I don't understand them, and never will. So much for Wii, I still feel it's a need in abundance and a want in scarcity. The line I have drawn so clearly ages ago have just been dusted away. By wails and whines of my little brotherss, coupled with the seemingly impressive Wii-mote swinging little feature of the Wii which makes adults more compelled to buy them for the fact that they themselves are also intrigued by this little white box. A party game it is, and video games in a party ain't really the most sociable party anyway. But lest I unleash the good ol' Pandora's box, I shall just keep quiet from here, for I am negatively beyond Wii-tarded.

But I am inclined to believe that this white box will indeed start to grow gigantic ears and also a long nose in time to come. And great, look! they're already of the same colour!

I ain't against Wii. We ain't against Wii. But, somehow. I just don't like hopping on trends a year or more late. I think we'll be the last ever to buy a Wii. I've always wanted one, but was too lazy to persuade anyone to get one for me. Shows a lot for my determination to actually play those games. But still, I think it beats Ps3 and X box "2 Pie Radians" hands down because I really don't get the first person shooting shit all over the place. Vacuous games! Whoopsies again.

So Jan is over and we have no choice but to embrace Feb. It's not long good old holidays for some people tomorrow. People who are embarking on their short but seemingly perpetual hunt for the last and final boss of their basic education. It was fun recalling how things went on orientation day, but I think somehow whenever something turns into memories, no matter how stale, horrible or whatsoever will grow fonder with time. Just like wine. Where age is represented by nostalgia.

The vertigo wave just hit me another time. I shall become one with my blankets! YAY

Filler again

Filler post this will be. I am super sleepy because I woke up at 10:30 this morning just in time for 11:30 service. Aimed to wake up for Sunday School but it was beyond my mental capacity to walk 3 metres without falling dead on the ground due to lack of sleep. I tried so desperately to sleep last night to no avail and the first wave of drowsiness only came at 2am.

My brother is going to buy a Wii, (the little gadget which people are usually quite bored of by now) which leaves me one month and a few days to go merry on it. I have lots of things unaccomplished and I have this set amount of time to finish it. I'm starting to become more and more mentally prepared to go in. I am prepared my life will change, but change is temporary. Just go in and come out, just like a nightmare dentist visit.