The shine

Everytime my sr class meets up for a gathering I marvel at how a ragtag bunch of teenagers can stay together for over one and a half years despite only spending three months formally together. I marvel at how 13 unique identities meld together to form a single one. I marvel at the dynamism within the group, the rich relationships each individual has with each other individual, I marvel at how the alpha-females interact with the alpha-males, how the different parties of the core body link up together, and how the weird shady characters who like to lurk away from the group get counteracted upon by other weird shady characters who like to lurk further away from the group.

The group is disintegrating. Quantity of time spent together has decreased: a dinner plus a drink, 1.5 hours. Quality? Nothing's changed much, and that's precisely the point. For there is absolutely no way a group, any group, of friends can stick together on memories and memories alone: you need present, common experiences , like being in the same class together, for relations to develop; the lack of it would just lead to the gradual evaporation of communal feelings. The crystals of memories will stay, but the only thing you can do with crystals is look at them.

It was nice still though, the dinner. Nice restaurant, nice catching up with each other (or rather, hearing them catch up with each other, since I am usually one of the shady characters). The thing with the group is its diversity. We've got people in poly in all sorts of courses, we've got jc students, we've got an undergrad and a sailor and heck, even a couple of shady characters. This supplies alot of conversation ammunition, and it was nice exchanging bits and pieces of the different realms everyone was or is in now.

I really miss those days. Sigh. Im such a sucker for the past. But the past was good, really good. I remember those days I laughed for an hour straight in chinese lessons, those days where we skipped lessons together to go play bowling or something, all the fun tutors we had and all the fun we had during class discussions and all. The group was a group in which I could really exert my personality, because it contrasted so sharply with the rest at the same time it reinforced the diversity and dynamism of interaction within the group. Given a choice, I'd pick disjointed diversity over enjoyable uniformity anytime.

To find someone you can click with is hard enough; to find a group of people which you can eventually blend in, casting your own colors in a tapestry of identities--that is something isnt it.

The group has exceeded my estimate of when it would cease to come together anymore, but we are going to break up eventually. Till that day happens, I'll enjoy those fine dining/chit-chat/lounge sessions, I'd enjoy my time as a shady character. I would, in fact, continue washing those crystals and keep them up for display.

Product, child, or orphan.

It takes time to get acquainted with one’s style, especially if it is one that is very different from the norm. The foundation of relationships—friendships or otherwise—are usually made over this period of time as the parties involved fine-tune themselves to the humour, the manner of thought, the values system, the nuances of each other.

The resultant product, the emergent style shared by the parties, would more often than not be something unique. Like a child, it would contain genes from all parties involved, genes that would meet each other, fuse with each other, and on occasion conflict with each other. And it is through this very experience of engagement, tension, collision, co-operation, fusion, that local genes form a community which is not only greater than the sum of its part, but holistically dissimilar as well.

Like a child, the resultant product would stay with its parents in the years to come, remaining a primary determinant of a family’s happiness until the moment where love, love of friends or love of a partner, dissipates into nothingness. Should that occasion arise, it appears likely the parents would pack their bags and leave the house in separate ways, and it appears likely they would overlook the fact that there would be a child standing at the doorway watching them go with large brown eyes, himself in complete ignorance of the fact that his closest kin are now the other orphans on the streets.

- The Whale’s Book of Art, pg 600, Chapter II: Evolution?

Not easy

Scouting parties very frequently find themselves in a state of immobility despite the fact that they are by their very nature one of the most mobile section of an army. Restricted by commands from superiors who cannot have more perfect information than they themselves, bound up through and through with communicative issues, they are, more often than not, forced to make decisions which are at odds with their own rationality.

Sourcing around for travel packages at people's complex is a pretty fun thing to do. With over 12 different firms over there the newbie, as my friend and I are, finds himself very quickly overwhelmed with information. That's the fun part actually, the processing of information: selecting the place, the mode of transport, the airway, choosing between a packaged tour or free-and-easy style, determining the best compromise between cost and value, comparing overall value-for-money, the last being the most terribly satisfying of course.

Strikes me how nice it is to work in a small firm, a small office. It makes you quirky. One female correspondent, when told how much our budget was (400, 500) replied: that means 900, and I thought that was pretty funny because of its offhandedness. When glared at by me she responded in kind, staring back at me in classical mockery.

It's no surprise I guess. In that kind of environment, where you've got over a dozen competitors in sight when you step out of your own office, you would either be extremely busy or extremely free. Either way it makes you feel like letting loose and just..be funny when the opportunity presents itself, this particular time in the form of 2 funny, young, one plump one lean, but both equally keen, quirky males.

Oh well, that is that. Oh yes, ate tu tu kueh for the first time since my grandmother moved out. Homemade shark's fin soup too, a bargain buy at $2.50, and it was good and real because my family makes it too-- it's not as hard, or expensive, as it might sound because all you need is corn starch, chicken, salt and all that kind of things and there you go. Yea, I guess it's really nice to just own a small shop and make and sell things for the rest of your life. No worries, and you can be quirky too.

Things havent gone well over the past few days. Been going out but they've all been aimless outings. I dont understand how girls can shop for 3 minutes and not feel tired.

Nothing's been accomplished so far. FM multiplayer isnt up and running despite much pre-season hype, travel arrangements havent been finalized--and available spaces are running out fast. And there's still econs s and SAT lurking around the corner, though I'd expect them to be failed ventures because A levels itself was a failed venture. Small comfort can be found in age of empires III though. Very disorientating at first but have developed own strategy already, and that's the point of gaming for me-- to come out with something that fits your style and see it work through. (Playing French musket rush in case you'd be interested, though rush is a misnomer considering the time I need to pump out enough of them; it's the equivalent of the 12-zealot rush for protoss, something one may be more inclined to describe as an early flood. In any case, do add CharmingWhale to your eso account, especially if you dont think that's a misnomer for me) Then again, it isnt much of a success too because not enough people I know are playing the game to make it a truly exhilarating venture.

Well, there's still 5 more weeks to go anyway, and we'll see how things pick up from here.

Tehehe

The weather is getting cooler already, as we head toward a merry december.

It is in pleasant weather like this that I like cuddling my pillow and hugging my bolster very tightly.

My pillow, by the way, has a very nice scent, and things could only get better. =)

I was just browsing through the December issue of national geography (we don’t subscribe to it, but it was lying around for some reason. Things always lie around for various reasons), when I came across some stuffs.

One of the key practices of the Eightfold Path is meditation. Though the technique from sect to sect—alone or in groups, facing a wall or fellow mediators, eyes closed or slightly open, in silence or chanting phrases—many types begin by paying close attention to your own breathing. There is nothing mystical or other-worldly about it, no levitation, no out-of-body experience. With each in and out breath, your awareness becomes more refined, more focused.

Breathing in…you become aware of the sensations of your body, and of your most distracting organ, your mind. Breathing out…you experience a release of body tension, and you struggle to bring your wandering mind back to your breath. In…the air tickles the tip of your nose. Out…the pain in your knee subsides, the mind still meanders. In…Shouldn’t I be doing something more useful with this time? Out…Who’s the ‘I’ in the last thought? With ever more subtlety eventually you come to understand, sometimes painfully, sometimes joyfully, what the Buddha realized. “We are what we think,” he said…

While many Europeans and Americans are drawn to the ornate and complex rituals of Tibetan and Japanese Zen Buddhism, others seem to prefer the simplicity of Southeast Asia’s Theravada Buddhism. From that tradition, I practice vipassana, “insight” or “mindfulness” meditation. This has not brought me enlightenment—yet—but it has helped bring into sharper focus some fo the questions I grapple with: Who am I? Why am I here? How can I achieve lasting happiness?
-- Nat Geo 0512, page 97-98.

I caught some
photos too.

The larger point is, there’s so many things in life which go by unnoticed isn’t there. If the issue hadn’t been lying around for some reason (I will look into the matter soon enough) I wouldn’t have read the article on Buddhism and felt inspired, I wouldn’t have come across those tremendously beautiful photos and computer graphics national geographic is in part reputed for; how many issues, now, have gone past me, and you, unnoticed?

Anyway, the photos in the magazine are really really impressive. They make you want to be that polar bear mother who digs holes for her cubs in the snow, they make you want to be part of the rescue mission in disaster-hit areas, they make you want to be a prehistoric monster and play catching with other prehistoric giants. They transport you to a reality which you know exists, or once existed, somewhere out there. And that’s the beauty of photos isn’t it, the way they contain both imagination and reality.

As a last note, if you don’t fancy playing catching with prehistoric monsters, you can always eat them up, though it still means you’ve got to play catching first. Allright allright not very funny.

Run

There are times when, lying on your bed with a blanket of music, you feel as though your current life doesn’t matter.

Transported to another world, you start to view the worries in your life in detached insignificance. You start to feel as though grades don’t matter anymore. In fact you feel pathetic when you start thinking about them. You feel pathetic that you’ve ever placed such unwarranted troubles and attention on them, disregarding many other things and people in the process.

Trapped in another universe, you start to ride along the waves. You wish you could play catching with your friends in the midst of falling autumn leaves, you wish you could throw snowballs at them. You wish you could lie with him, or her, on the grass in fields and groves far away, you wish you could be together by the fireplace every night. You wish you could have some time alone too, you wish you could have a nice sleep. You wish for old times to return, and you wish to continue being trapped.

At the same time, the alternative reality you would experience could not be more real. The walls, the ceiling, the borders of your world, are real, the blanket of music as warm as it gets. You live within your own mind, and your own imagination is real.

What isn’t real is what lies outside your door. The tragedy of it all comes when you open it, and realize that that’s not true, and that’s when you start to face the music of a different kind.

But I'll still be quite handsome

I think it's more or less settled already, and it's time to grace the notion of biting the dust.

So, what do we have here now? From a medium fish in a medium pond to a large fish in a small pond, to finally, by day's end, just another fish in the ocean gracing the sunset.

It might be premature to say this now, but come this march, if im not satisfied with my results, Im going to go on a 3-month hibernation period. Which means no msn, no leisure smses, none of that kind of things, and only the very occasional outing to gather food and possibly some candles. It's time to start doing reflections not on the x or y axis, but on the t axis soon, where t stands for twilight.

The fullback's run

Just to prove that Im not someone who is hypocritical over exam grade predictions, I'll be over-enthusiastic now and tell you lit was good.

It's amazing how an additional hour of sleep (from 4hrs to 5) gives life to your mental prowess. In fact if I had known this earlier I would have slept 6 hours the night before gp and history, even if that would have come at the expense of one whole unit (out of 6). I looked at the questions and the ideas appeared without much prompting, the quotes flowed smoothly, and all in all I thought my handwriting was rather nice.

I did whatever I could have possibly done for the paper. I studied for it, I paid close attention to the questions to make sure I didnt go off-track, I simplified all arguments, I controlled myself and eliminated those points that were very tempting for me to try articulate, but which would always end up pulling me down. I even slept 5 hours for it. The team worked hard to gain possession of the ball, the through-pass was well executed, placing the ball just outside the box, out of the reach of the last line of defence but also well out of reach of the keepeer; the run was timed to perfection, the first touch to set it to the stronger foot (that would be my left, if you want to know) graceful, the technique in the shot immaculate, and all that remains to be seen is the keeper's own reflexes.

Anway, the point really is that I produced the best quality strikes I could possibly have given under the given conditions. The caveat here is that I said the same thing after prelims too, and I didnt do too fantastic then, so Im not thinking too much into this now. All in all of course, it's better to feel good after a paper then to feel worse, and that is that.

Oh well. Time to go on the defensive now, as econs goes on the counter-attack tmr.

And by the way, just to tell you, I like koping exam foolscap paper.

Haiku

Silent prayers go
Unanswered when beasts stay in
Caves with no candles.

Update

I took maths at A levels so that I would have a cushion to fall back on in the event any 1 of my humanities fail to perform to standard, since it's significantly harder to score for econs, history and lit. I now find myself in a situation where I would need one of my humanities to cover up for my maths. Things dont look rosy consequently.

GP was fine, but it couldve been better for sure. Questions were generally strange if you ask me, but there was one that stood out immediately-- the one on the pace of life. It's the kind of essay which, by virtue of the nature of its topic, cannot fail to sound sophisticated, philosophical even. Which makes me feel bad, really, because I was hardly in the state of mind to do it-- had slept late the night before, mind kept drawing up blanks throughout the course of writing. I normally get very passionate when it comes to issues of this sort but not so this time round, and all's the pity.

History was really rubbish, in part because I couldnt think clearly (im totally serious about the blank state of mind I was in throughout the 2 papers). But it isnt a significant factor to consider because Ive managed to hit bull's eye at point blank range times before in the past. The questions were rubbish. The rigours Ive been through 2 years of education trained me to be tough against tough questions, not tough against questions which were not, by default, argumentative in nature. Of the 3 essays I attempted 2 were "account for" type questions, and any hopes raised initially by the accessible content the questions seemingly required was soon sentenced to death near the end of my first essay: I realised then that I couldnt deliver the 2-paragraph killer blow that has been so integral in my writings for history, and to a much smaller extent, lit and gp essays. (Incidentally, Im rather proud of it because it's something that differentiates my style from any others) I couldnt find the crucial match winner for those 2 essays simply because I couldnt find anything in the questions to agree/disagree with, and I had to resort to rank-all-factors conclusions reminiscent of O level standards in the end.

Personally if you ask me, I would say most of the questions, and my essays along with them, are that kind which is designed for students to hit a C with considerable ease, and nothing much beyond that. To make no mention of the fact that the bar would now be higher since anyone who has studied adequately for the paper would easily score Cs too. One of the conditions for an A grade essay is originality, and I definitely cant find any of that in my run-of-the-mill answers. It's pretty much a paradox I guess, that I personally need tough questions with a focal point of argument to score well, not the straightforward kinds which require a different orientation of myself to give it a complex twist. Dont get me wrong though, answers to the latter can get very sophiscated--after all, they are the stuff which historians have been debating for centuries many times over. I just wasnt prepared. It all boils down to that I guess.

Anyway, dont worry, I'll be fine. I am always fine. In fact I will always be fine only.

Her angel's will

I was particularly touched today when one of my literature tutors gave me her own copy of C.S. Lewis: Heroes of the Faith. She said it’s to inspire me to continue pursuing my dream, and I must commend her choice: C.S Lewis was himself an atheist for the first half of his life, and a professor/scholar in literature for much of both halves.

I guess it’s high time I found myself a more personal role model. Wilde couldn’t be because, with all due respect, he was a dandy-gay, and even if he wasn’t his impact on me is not revolutionary in nature: with or without him I would still be someone who lives quite for pleasure and aesthetics. He merely reinforced my values, not introduce new ones. To be fair though, he has my utmost respect for being a tremendously funny guy. I couldn’t take any of the romantic poets either because I prefer seeing them as a collective whole, and I just don’t know larkin, hughes or auden, or any others, well enough to establish a personal connection with them. So I guess, Mr Lewis, it’s just you and me. (I will never fraternize with Christianity though!)

Well anyway, I flipped through the book on my trip home (the book is actually quite short and accessible, and 5 bus trips should do the job. Im not very given to reading on the bus though; daydreaming is more productive), and caught a particular stanza which I would, for some particular reason, now modify.

Yet what are endless times we share
If still my narrow self be there
And hope and fail and struggle still,
And break my will against her angel’s will?

--Adapted from C.S Lewis

Elsewhere, I just got this off a forwarded email. It’s by C.S Lewis too:

Our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind)which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite ofwhich we love the sinner - no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment.

I like this fellow already.

And we will go a long, long way together.

Spacing

When you're in love with a beautiful woman
you go it alone
When you're in love with a beautiful woman
you watch your friends
When you're in love with a beautiful woman you
                                   watch her eyes.
When you're in love with a beautiful woman you keep
                                                                               looking for lies.

- Last stanza of When you're in love with a beautiful woman , by Dr Hook.

Shared space

Shared laughter is to me one of the main ingredient of any successful relationship, if only by virtue of the fact that it is so hard to come by. Consequently I find it quite a pity the first moment of genuine laughter I shared with a particular tutor of mine came during a conversation that would very likely be our last.

Oh well, at least I've got something to take away from one year of forced apathy, vast distances, and empty spaces all around.