怎么办。我脑海里看到的，是在雨中的奔跑。
Running. Running. Tears warm my face comfortingly. The rhythm of my footsteps assuring. It is a release fuelled by heartache. I can't see where I'm going, or have any direction in mind. Scenes flash through my head, but I have no idea where I am. I wear a dress, soaked fabric cling to my legs. My exposed arms shivering, I can feel the wrinkles in my toes.
世界依然的巡转，城市依然的流动。雨中，车子来来往往，街上无人横行。
唯有我；跑着，跑着。没人看，没人理。
舒。
Monday, December 29, 2014
Saturday, December 06, 2014
In this society, there is only one right answer. And that is "Yes"
I've always grappled with the concept of saying "No". It was so simple, yet so complicated. It is such an easy answer to give, then such a difficult answer to accept. Later on, I would learn it to be a difficult reply too.
I loathe dressing up and going for whatever. It used to be because I did not have the appropriate clothes for the occasion. Then it was because of the awkwardness in that artificial skin we donned for the event. Now, even as I learn to be an actor, I still find myself uneasy breathing in a mood deliberately hung up by someone else. (Yes, it wouldn't be that bad if I could tune the air myself.)
A friend once told me, "If you do not have a valid reason, you'll have to go". Indeed. It was either "Yes", or "Yes, but", never a simple, straightforward, easy "No".
I always thought people were weird in asking why not. Then I realised even they don't know what they are asking. They've fallen into the norm, and can't see the others outside of it.
And of course there are those who know when they ask why not. Though their ability to weave around the norm would have already accepted my easy "No".
Fortunately or unfortunately for me, this is the way society will remain. The norm is too entrenched, and it is tough for a fabric to be weaved if weaknesses are to be just allowed. It isn't exactly respecting a choice, but more like keeping things together. Humans connect easier than we realise, in the same way we disconnect easier than we would admit. But a connection once made, at most fades. It doesn't go away, wanted or unwanted.
Wonder, what do those born in the norm see?
I loathe dressing up and going for whatever. It used to be because I did not have the appropriate clothes for the occasion. Then it was because of the awkwardness in that artificial skin we donned for the event. Now, even as I learn to be an actor, I still find myself uneasy breathing in a mood deliberately hung up by someone else. (Yes, it wouldn't be that bad if I could tune the air myself.)
A friend once told me, "If you do not have a valid reason, you'll have to go". Indeed. It was either "Yes", or "Yes, but", never a simple, straightforward, easy "No".
I always thought people were weird in asking why not. Then I realised even they don't know what they are asking. They've fallen into the norm, and can't see the others outside of it.
And of course there are those who know when they ask why not. Though their ability to weave around the norm would have already accepted my easy "No".
Fortunately or unfortunately for me, this is the way society will remain. The norm is too entrenched, and it is tough for a fabric to be weaved if weaknesses are to be just allowed. It isn't exactly respecting a choice, but more like keeping things together. Humans connect easier than we realise, in the same way we disconnect easier than we would admit. But a connection once made, at most fades. It doesn't go away, wanted or unwanted.
Wonder, what do those born in the norm see?
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Travelling, a wanderer
This November, I've made two trips.
One on a seeking adventure through large cities and small towns, and another on a wandering stroll in a somewhat familiar place. I have mitigated the extremes in a sense, with extensive research and fact-finding before the trip to Japan, where I do not speak the language, and choosing a blank itinerary for Hong Kong, where I can get by sufficiently with speech.
Familiarity helps. Knowledge is necessary. It helps keep the eyes open, and prevents the senses from being overwhelmed.
We become conscious of ourselves in a foreign environment, suddenly realising how we are we, and how they are they. We need to first have an inkling of what others are like, so we can put these observations aside. Establish a basic reference, from which to enrich, shift, or obliterate altogether. That saves the effort of onerously building one in an unfamiliar city, where limited resources should be conserved.
Knowledge, must be packed for travels.
One on a seeking adventure through large cities and small towns, and another on a wandering stroll in a somewhat familiar place. I have mitigated the extremes in a sense, with extensive research and fact-finding before the trip to Japan, where I do not speak the language, and choosing a blank itinerary for Hong Kong, where I can get by sufficiently with speech.
Familiarity helps. Knowledge is necessary. It helps keep the eyes open, and prevents the senses from being overwhelmed.
We become conscious of ourselves in a foreign environment, suddenly realising how we are we, and how they are they. We need to first have an inkling of what others are like, so we can put these observations aside. Establish a basic reference, from which to enrich, shift, or obliterate altogether. That saves the effort of onerously building one in an unfamiliar city, where limited resources should be conserved.
Knowledge, must be packed for travels.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Us
One of us found the concept of portable barbeque. One of us needed company. One of us called for a meeting of the three of us.
We decided we would find a spot on Mount Faber, and went up the one-way road, and up and up and up, and then road started going down, and then down, and Mount Faber was over.
So we thought we would try out Bishan Park, and we went onto what we thought was CTE. And Toa Payoh went by. Then one of us opened the pack of Doritos. And it didn't matter where we were heading.
Out at Adam road, we decided we would do it at my place, and we were to reach before the Doritos ran out.
We ended up setting up the pit along the stairs. Sausages were to be fried instead.
End of food, we packed up and went back to the car for a drink. Parking lasted till 10.30pm, after all.
And we talked.
They left at midnight, on a Thursday night.
All because I needed company. That night, they wished only for me to sleep well, again.
Us.
We decided we would find a spot on Mount Faber, and went up the one-way road, and up and up and up, and then road started going down, and then down, and Mount Faber was over.
So we thought we would try out Bishan Park, and we went onto what we thought was CTE. And Toa Payoh went by. Then one of us opened the pack of Doritos. And it didn't matter where we were heading.
Out at Adam road, we decided we would do it at my place, and we were to reach before the Doritos ran out.
We ended up setting up the pit along the stairs. Sausages were to be fried instead.
End of food, we packed up and went back to the car for a drink. Parking lasted till 10.30pm, after all.
And we talked.
They left at midnight, on a Thursday night.
All because I needed company. That night, they wished only for me to sleep well, again.
Us.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Yes, you need a degree
Society needs university graduates. People need degrees. But not in the way the Singaporean government has made it out to be.
A university education should be about learning. Not blind pragmatism. It's true that school should be about skills for the work place, but the definition of those skills should not be limited to the same narrow field as the occupation.
It has been said that only 10% of what we learn in school is applicable in the work place. University takes up only four of 16 years in a typical JC student's study path. Then wouldn't the government's syllabus for the first 12 years be largely useless? Of course not! It is up to the individual to apply, however, whenever, whatever. Mathematics principles can be used in communication, geography cases in algorithm, history in strategy.
The classification of knowledge was never cast in stone firstly: computer, I.T., maths, physics, sociology, communication for example.
University opens minds. It puts you on the shoulders of giants. It illuminates the dance of ideas between the heads of many. It opens your eyes to see that thing you see every day differently. All before the brains of a typical undergraduate matures.
And for that, those who cannot bother with learning, should not bother with university.
A university education should be about learning. Not blind pragmatism. It's true that school should be about skills for the work place, but the definition of those skills should not be limited to the same narrow field as the occupation.
It has been said that only 10% of what we learn in school is applicable in the work place. University takes up only four of 16 years in a typical JC student's study path. Then wouldn't the government's syllabus for the first 12 years be largely useless? Of course not! It is up to the individual to apply, however, whenever, whatever. Mathematics principles can be used in communication, geography cases in algorithm, history in strategy.
The classification of knowledge was never cast in stone firstly: computer, I.T., maths, physics, sociology, communication for example.
University opens minds. It puts you on the shoulders of giants. It illuminates the dance of ideas between the heads of many. It opens your eyes to see that thing you see every day differently. All before the brains of a typical undergraduate matures.
And for that, those who cannot bother with learning, should not bother with university.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Running and motivation
I succumbed. I ran my first 8km (4x2km) in 10 years today. The familiar scents of the rubber track and freshly cut grass juxtaposed with the consciousness I'm no longer running as a student. Through the humdrum of pounding feet, a few thoughts dropped in:
1. Without an end, the same task gets dreadful
2. The nearer to the end, the further it looks
3. Focus on the task, the process, the environment, the end, the goal, anything but yourself. Being self-centred gives up hope, and welcomes negativity
4. Breaks, work. But too many breaks pull you back.
5. Know yourself to be able to achieve more.
6. Negotiate and compromise, but never give up hope.
I am ready for my first speaking engagement!
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Flood
In that instant, so many things rushed through my mind.
I really want to, but are you that person to?
I really want to, but are you that person to?
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
That, is my great uncle
He has eight children and 13 grandchildren, together with their partners, and his wife of 60 years, all by his bedside on the morning of 11 May 2014. 30 people, including the domestic help, crowded into the upgraded three-room flat, all holding him the center of their world those two days.
He has awesome grandchildren, awesome children, an amazing wife, a beautiful family. They gave him a leg rub when he groaned, the children crowded around to tell him it was Chinese New Year and he must be happy, they told each other to do stuff for him, and they did. No complaints, no whining, no fear, no resistance.
The adults talk to anyone and everyone. They talk to the children, they talk to their mother, they talk to friends. They laugh at each other, with each other and for each other.
The children jump on top of each other and play. The boy with the smirk and swagger and bleached blonde hair eagerly brings out a set of chess to play with ah boy. They all joke and jab at each other. Then scramble over to pick up their things and head over to the coffin to wave goodbye before following their parents home.
Familiar, comfortable and naturally so. This is family.
He has a beautiful family.
That is my granduncle.
He has awesome grandchildren, awesome children, an amazing wife, a beautiful family. They gave him a leg rub when he groaned, the children crowded around to tell him it was Chinese New Year and he must be happy, they told each other to do stuff for him, and they did. No complaints, no whining, no fear, no resistance.
The adults talk to anyone and everyone. They talk to the children, they talk to their mother, they talk to friends. They laugh at each other, with each other and for each other.
The children jump on top of each other and play. The boy with the smirk and swagger and bleached blonde hair eagerly brings out a set of chess to play with ah boy. They all joke and jab at each other. Then scramble over to pick up their things and head over to the coffin to wave goodbye before following their parents home.
Familiar, comfortable and naturally so. This is family.
He has a beautiful family.
That is my granduncle.
Sunday, March 02, 2014
Shoes
Beautiful
red shoes. Lovely cherry red. Centre of attention. Object of envy.
Alas, a pebble. Bites, nibbles, grinds, scratches, claws.
Endurance, ever possible. What's more, comfortable supporting cushions, beautiful assuring mother.
Endurance, starts dwindling. Cushions harden, protecting pebble. Still, beautiful assuring mother.
Stop, check. Bleeding, blistering feet. Pain, exhaustion, weariness.
Yet, beautiful red shoes, lovely cherry red.
Alas, a pebble. Bites, nibbles, grinds, scratches, claws.
Endurance, ever possible. What's more, comfortable supporting cushions, beautiful assuring mother.
Endurance, starts dwindling. Cushions harden, protecting pebble. Still, beautiful assuring mother.
Stop, check. Bleeding, blistering feet. Pain, exhaustion, weariness.
Yet, beautiful red shoes, lovely cherry red.
Sunday, February 09, 2014
原来我们比彼此意识的还要相同
我们，都固执。
坚持自己的想法，坚持自己的作风，坚持自己的理念，坚持自己爱的方式。
只是成长的环境不同，所以经历的事情不一样。结果，处事方式和看法不一。
原来我们比彼此意识的还要相同
坚持自己的想法，坚持自己的作风，坚持自己的理念，坚持自己爱的方式。
只是成长的环境不同，所以经历的事情不一样。结果，处事方式和看法不一。
原来我们比彼此意识的还要相同
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Wednesday, October 02, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Monday, November 19, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
The pen is mightier than the sword
They say the pen is mightier then the sword. And so it is, with the English language. It cuts through to the heart without shedding a drop of blood. Yet, as it sends you into the thick of the action, it can't quite pack the nuances in human emotions. It is swift, it is concise, it hits the bull's eye.
Perhaps too quickly. It is a stripped down language, hardly bringing with it the burdens of usage. It is like the rolling stone that collects no moss. Easily moving from one place to another without changing too much. It is light, it is unladen, it doesn't stop to carry what else you have to give it. It is carefree.
Or perhaps it is because I have already crafted my writing as such. Sharpening the arrowhead to shoot through any bull's eye that might stand in the way. Knowing not just to hit at the mark, but to pierce through it. And perhaps because of this I made my arrow not to be thick and clumsy. It has to be lean and deft.
Perhaps one too many times of resting the arrow on the crossbow, I have unknowingly left a resting mark that only this arrow fits. Any others, I miss my mark.
Perhaps. Maybe after all, in the English language, this was how it was meant to be.
Perhaps too quickly. It is a stripped down language, hardly bringing with it the burdens of usage. It is like the rolling stone that collects no moss. Easily moving from one place to another without changing too much. It is light, it is unladen, it doesn't stop to carry what else you have to give it. It is carefree.
Or perhaps it is because I have already crafted my writing as such. Sharpening the arrowhead to shoot through any bull's eye that might stand in the way. Knowing not just to hit at the mark, but to pierce through it. And perhaps because of this I made my arrow not to be thick and clumsy. It has to be lean and deft.
Perhaps one too many times of resting the arrow on the crossbow, I have unknowingly left a resting mark that only this arrow fits. Any others, I miss my mark.
Perhaps. Maybe after all, in the English language, this was how it was meant to be.
Friday, January 06, 2012
Flash
I heard something really scary today and suddenly I didn't want to think. My mind darted to and fro, back and forth, refusing to linger for more than a moment, and then suddenly it stopped. Void. Bewildered.
Lord, make no bad happen. And so I proclaim in Jesus' name.
Amen.
Lord, make no bad happen. And so I proclaim in Jesus' name.
Amen.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
One year on
Hey Eggy, guess what? HUGE things happened on Thursday. The lifeblood of the MRT went down. Marina Bay to Braddell in both directions. It was all over the news, every one talked and ranted about it. Only people denying the severity is SMRT.
Then of course, there I was, feverish the whole day, trying to find an opportunity to slip home earlier. But everything had to fall in line nicely right in front of me. When I finally had the go ahead to tap my access card out, our first world country's public transport system crashed.
One year on, both events I had first person encounter in made front page headlines. What a way to remember you.
Just to let you know, which you already do, everyone here at home misses you.
Then of course, there I was, feverish the whole day, trying to find an opportunity to slip home earlier. But everything had to fall in line nicely right in front of me. When I finally had the go ahead to tap my access card out, our first world country's public transport system crashed.
One year on, both events I had first person encounter in made front page headlines. What a way to remember you.
Just to let you know, which you already do, everyone here at home misses you.
Saturday, December 03, 2011
What makes a teacher
I remember ever telling this MP how important it was for secondary school students to like their teacher, and very literally, I saw my words fall flat off her.
It might seem like it's pandering to the immaturity of adolescence, but how many actually realise that secondary school students liking their teacher has nothing to do with superficial popularity. It's simply about being a good teacher.
By the nature of the job, a person is institutionalised as a teacher when he or she is certified to be better versed in the syllabus than the receivers of the education. But it does not mean that the students are innately dependent on you because of that. I myself had deliberately slept through every biology lesson in secondary four, and did the learning independently at home. (But I started the self-studying late and only managed an A2. Bleah.)
Teaching is not just about delivering the syllabus, it is also about being a mentor to the students who have been entrusted to you. It's really not about calling their parents when they didn't do their homework (seriously, this is secondary school), neither is it about yelling and thinking they are hopeless at the slightest issue, nor is it about talking down and expecting to be accorded respect because of your position. Also, it is not about becoming one of them.
It's about being that guiding light they can turn to.
If we were to just pause and reflect on our school days, I think it wouldn't be difficult for us to point out what about that teacher makes us naturally want to sit up and listen.
It's the teacher's genuine heart to nurture you.
Knowing the syllabus is a given; that is what you are trained and paid to do. Being a mentor, is what so many in the teaching profession have neglected.
Sixteen turning seventeen is a chaotic age of curiosity and uncertainty. Students are very quickly moving into a different phase in life, and everything to them is simultaneously possible and unreachable. Can you imagine how much the teacher who sees them more often than their parents can influence! Even more so when you are with at-risk children, how pivotal you can be to stop problems before they take root.
It is true that a lot of this is contingent on the student's own attitude. But even the best student with the most commendable attitude would not choose a mentor who cares only about the textbook. Elitist, authoritarian and downright naive teachers are, needless to say, out of the question.
Conversely, it is also true that there are too many students out there who gave up on their studies because their teachers first gave up on them.
Granted, there are many teachers who wholeheartedly want to groom the students in their care, and I give them my most heartfelt salute. And for the few I have had the great fortune to have met, thank you for teaching me what I really need in life.
But having been taught for 18 years, and having accessed the staff room for 3 months, and increasingly knowing more who teach, I am finding myself meeting a majority who misinterpret the teaching vocation. And I really shudder when I look at them and wonder "Will this by the teacher of my kids?"
Perhaps we all need to stop and ask ourselves, are you who you want to teach your children?
It might seem like it's pandering to the immaturity of adolescence, but how many actually realise that secondary school students liking their teacher has nothing to do with superficial popularity. It's simply about being a good teacher.
By the nature of the job, a person is institutionalised as a teacher when he or she is certified to be better versed in the syllabus than the receivers of the education. But it does not mean that the students are innately dependent on you because of that. I myself had deliberately slept through every biology lesson in secondary four, and did the learning independently at home. (But I started the self-studying late and only managed an A2. Bleah.)
Teaching is not just about delivering the syllabus, it is also about being a mentor to the students who have been entrusted to you. It's really not about calling their parents when they didn't do their homework (seriously, this is secondary school), neither is it about yelling and thinking they are hopeless at the slightest issue, nor is it about talking down and expecting to be accorded respect because of your position. Also, it is not about becoming one of them.
It's about being that guiding light they can turn to.
If we were to just pause and reflect on our school days, I think it wouldn't be difficult for us to point out what about that teacher makes us naturally want to sit up and listen.
It's the teacher's genuine heart to nurture you.
Knowing the syllabus is a given; that is what you are trained and paid to do. Being a mentor, is what so many in the teaching profession have neglected.
Sixteen turning seventeen is a chaotic age of curiosity and uncertainty. Students are very quickly moving into a different phase in life, and everything to them is simultaneously possible and unreachable. Can you imagine how much the teacher who sees them more often than their parents can influence! Even more so when you are with at-risk children, how pivotal you can be to stop problems before they take root.
It is true that a lot of this is contingent on the student's own attitude. But even the best student with the most commendable attitude would not choose a mentor who cares only about the textbook. Elitist, authoritarian and downright naive teachers are, needless to say, out of the question.
Conversely, it is also true that there are too many students out there who gave up on their studies because their teachers first gave up on them.
Granted, there are many teachers who wholeheartedly want to groom the students in their care, and I give them my most heartfelt salute. And for the few I have had the great fortune to have met, thank you for teaching me what I really need in life.
But having been taught for 18 years, and having accessed the staff room for 3 months, and increasingly knowing more who teach, I am finding myself meeting a majority who misinterpret the teaching vocation. And I really shudder when I look at them and wonder "Will this by the teacher of my kids?"
Perhaps we all need to stop and ask ourselves, are you who you want to teach your children?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
What makes the city different?
How is it that if you were to be plucked from where you were and placed somewhere in Singapore, you would instantly know if you were in the city or in the heartlands?
Is it because of the people, the buildings, or the roads?
What makes the city so instantly distinguishable from the suburban heartlands?
Is it the people who are more often dressed in smart collars and shoes? Is it the fast walking pace down the busy streets?
Or maybe it is the buildings that are taller than your eyes can see? Or the glass and steel that make every building shine through the skies?
Could it be the roads that wind into every conceivable space? Or the cars that flow through in an endless stream?
But, do not the people rushing in the city first come from the heartlands? Are not the buildings all climbing higher and higher? Do not the roads grow even thinner, longer and denser as we stretch out into the heartlands?
How could it be that we can immediately identify?
How is it that we just know?
Maybe, it's not any of those.
Maybe, it's us.
Maybe, because we are home.
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