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SOC Prose
Received an email (the third of its kind) today:
------
Dear SoCians,
Due to popular demand we have extended the deadline of the Prose and Poetry Writing Competition to the 15th of April.
The cash prizes are as follows:
1st prize: $50
2nd prize: $30
3rd prize: $20
[truncated]
------Let me put it gently: "Due to popular demand" fools nobody. Not when: a) the deadline has been extended twice b) the super-coveted top prize is worth only $50 and c) the topic is on wireless computing (scintillating I'm sure) and SOC life (rah rah).
C'mon! Have more exciting topics than that! I have suggestions: "The Passion of the SOCian", "How SOC increased my S.Q*", "What's a Mandelbrot set got to do with Bash?" and "How to keep in shape in SOC".
*Sexuality Quotient
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
A "Hair-Razing" Hour
Today is Haircut Day.
I've been getting tired of my old haircut lately and was trying to summon up enough courage to go for a hairstyle change. Today was the day. After inspecting my limited choices in Century Square, I finally picked Monsoon over SuperCuts (I think the Sri Nada uncle is miffed at me) because well, it was slightly cheaper. Fine. I'm a cheapskate. But $40 bucks for a cut is not in the works just yet. Not until I command an awesome paycheck or become a gong gong (the male equivalent of tai tai).
My Fish-Out-of-Water act started almost the moment I stepped up to the reception counter. I think I must have shocked the nail polish out of the attendant when I mentioned "creative director" and "no appointment" in the same breath. Actually I fumbled at the term "creative director", since it sounded more like a hotshot executive in Microsoft rather than a hairdresser at the local mall. But the point was, after the attendant finished her mental snickering, she politely told me that the creative director was out for lunch, which I gather is a polite way of saying "no appointment no cut, so sod off". I know these things okay? I Not Stupid.
Anyhow, I was led to this designer seat and a piece of cloth was handed to me. It took me 3 attempts at wearing it before I realized that it was a robe rather than a half body sarong that the Sri Nada uncles are found of using. I think the attendant is still chuckling at me. After I managed to struggle into the robe like a Neantherdal ape, a female hairdresser, I'm sorry - Senior Hairstylist, cracked her knuckles, wielded her deadly weapons and strutted over to mess with my hair. Literally. The first thing she did was to stab her fingers into my hair to give me the just-woke-up-sexy look (except I looked just-got-mugged-desperate instead). We then had a brief exchange where I let her know my expectations. After 3 minutes, we had an agreement. It was established that I, the typical fashion idiot geek, should just sit there and let the pros do their jobs.
The session itself was pretty uneventful and almost pleasant since I dozed on and off. Short of being prodded along to the wash basin twice for a shampoo and rinse, I basically nodded off in the designer chair. I can't understand the female compulsion to bond with their hairdressers. I either a) sit there and worry that the scissors will slip and embed itself in my exposed jugular or b) sit there and worry that the shaver will pull a Mike Tyson and chomp off the tip of my ear or c) doze. If I'd tried to be friendly with the hairstylist, she'd probably shave me botak just to warn me off.
The unveiling was pretty shocking to me. Without any styling, the haircut looked decent enough. Not too similar to my old ubergeek hairdo but not startling enough to make me a geek ah beng. But man, when the haistylist applied the clay (I goofed up here when I asked if she was using wax and received a you-can't-tell-the-difference-between-wax-and-clay?! look {in the comfort of my own domain in front of my laptop, I can now say: Bite Me} ) to make certain parts spike, my hairdo immediately looked like something you'd see on a model. The mismatch with my face was, needless to say, hilarious. I swear her hands wobbled with suppressed mirth when she was styling my hair.
After the cut, it was a test of courage to actually walk around Century Square as if the almost-funky hairstyle was not new and alien to me. It's sort of like walking around in neon underwear and see-through pants, if you get my drift.
Alas, the spikes flattened themselves by the time I got home, leading to my dad to yell "$20 for that?! How come you don't go to that barber shop across the road!" and to ask the heavens why his son is so loose with money. Maybe I should send him to the hairstylists as revenge.
I've been getting tired of my old haircut lately and was trying to summon up enough courage to go for a hairstyle change. Today was the day. After inspecting my limited choices in Century Square, I finally picked Monsoon over SuperCuts (I think the Sri Nada uncle is miffed at me) because well, it was slightly cheaper. Fine. I'm a cheapskate. But $40 bucks for a cut is not in the works just yet. Not until I command an awesome paycheck or become a gong gong (the male equivalent of tai tai).
My Fish-Out-of-Water act started almost the moment I stepped up to the reception counter. I think I must have shocked the nail polish out of the attendant when I mentioned "creative director" and "no appointment" in the same breath. Actually I fumbled at the term "creative director", since it sounded more like a hotshot executive in Microsoft rather than a hairdresser at the local mall. But the point was, after the attendant finished her mental snickering, she politely told me that the creative director was out for lunch, which I gather is a polite way of saying "no appointment no cut, so sod off". I know these things okay? I Not Stupid.
Anyhow, I was led to this designer seat and a piece of cloth was handed to me. It took me 3 attempts at wearing it before I realized that it was a robe rather than a half body sarong that the Sri Nada uncles are found of using. I think the attendant is still chuckling at me. After I managed to struggle into the robe like a Neantherdal ape, a female hairdresser, I'm sorry - Senior Hairstylist, cracked her knuckles, wielded her deadly weapons and strutted over to mess with my hair. Literally. The first thing she did was to stab her fingers into my hair to give me the just-woke-up-sexy look (except I looked just-got-mugged-desperate instead). We then had a brief exchange where I let her know my expectations. After 3 minutes, we had an agreement. It was established that I, the typical fashion idiot geek, should just sit there and let the pros do their jobs.
The session itself was pretty uneventful and almost pleasant since I dozed on and off. Short of being prodded along to the wash basin twice for a shampoo and rinse, I basically nodded off in the designer chair. I can't understand the female compulsion to bond with their hairdressers. I either a) sit there and worry that the scissors will slip and embed itself in my exposed jugular or b) sit there and worry that the shaver will pull a Mike Tyson and chomp off the tip of my ear or c) doze. If I'd tried to be friendly with the hairstylist, she'd probably shave me botak just to warn me off.
The unveiling was pretty shocking to me. Without any styling, the haircut looked decent enough. Not too similar to my old ubergeek hairdo but not startling enough to make me a geek ah beng. But man, when the haistylist applied the clay (I goofed up here when I asked if she was using wax and received a you-can't-tell-the-difference-between-wax-and-clay?! look {in the comfort of my own domain in front of my laptop, I can now say: Bite Me} ) to make certain parts spike, my hairdo immediately looked like something you'd see on a model. The mismatch with my face was, needless to say, hilarious. I swear her hands wobbled with suppressed mirth when she was styling my hair.
After the cut, it was a test of courage to actually walk around Century Square as if the almost-funky hairstyle was not new and alien to me. It's sort of like walking around in neon underwear and see-through pants, if you get my drift.
Alas, the spikes flattened themselves by the time I got home, leading to my dad to yell "$20 for that?! How come you don't go to that barber shop across the road!" and to ask the heavens why his son is so loose with money. Maybe I should send him to the hairstylists as revenge.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Uses of Lah
English lesson today was fun... we learnt the various uses of "lah" in Colloquial Singapore English (okay fine... Singlish).
There's the impositional form: "Ha nah... very yan dao already lah."
There's the propositional form: "You go and die lah!"
There's the persuasive form: "Eat this... else you faint lah." (rising intonation)
This means if I ask a question: "Want to go watch a movie with me?" "Not free lah." can actually mean 3 things depending on how one intonates (is there such a word?) "lah". It could be the eat-shit-and-die lah, of-course-cannot lah, and i'm-trying-to-convince-you lah.
Amazing. I use lahs and lehs everyday and never notice such subtleties. This applies to the hors also. Think "don't do that hor!" and "not like that hor?" and "you did that? hor hor!".
Man... learners of Singlish have it tough! I guess this sorts of explains why most ang mohs sound unnatural when they attempt to append lahs and lehs behind their sentences. Something's just not right lor. Get my drift hor? Quite easy to understand actually leh, so don't pull a long face lah!
Interesting link: Calculate your life expectancy here! I'm a walking wreck, and will live till only 65. Disgraceful I hear, in this day and age. Right right... will get on my exercise regime next year lah. I swear.
There's the impositional form: "Ha nah... very yan dao already lah."
There's the propositional form: "You go and die lah!"
There's the persuasive form: "Eat this... else you faint lah." (rising intonation)
This means if I ask a question: "Want to go watch a movie with me?" "Not free lah." can actually mean 3 things depending on how one intonates (is there such a word?) "lah". It could be the eat-shit-and-die lah, of-course-cannot lah, and i'm-trying-to-convince-you lah.
Amazing. I use lahs and lehs everyday and never notice such subtleties. This applies to the hors also. Think "don't do that hor!" and "not like that hor?" and "you did that? hor hor!".
Man... learners of Singlish have it tough! I guess this sorts of explains why most ang mohs sound unnatural when they attempt to append lahs and lehs behind their sentences. Something's just not right lor. Get my drift hor? Quite easy to understand actually leh, so don't pull a long face lah!
Interesting link: Calculate your life expectancy here! I'm a walking wreck, and will live till only 65. Disgraceful I hear, in this day and age. Right right... will get on my exercise regime next year lah. I swear.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
New Blog On the Block
I've come out of the closet.
After all these years, I have finally found the courage.
I'm going to let the whole world know. I can't deny it any longer.
Yes. I'm a closet-writer-who-hasn't-been-writing-and-who-has-decided-to-upload-his-works.
Find it at Short Stories Project. More like "story" currently, but I'll add to it later. The reformatting is a pain...
Hope nobody was expecting any ground shattering relevations like me being the PM's illegitmate son who has recently decided to wrestle control of Singapore away from his dastardly father.
After all these years, I have finally found the courage.
I'm going to let the whole world know. I can't deny it any longer.
Yes. I'm a closet-writer-who-hasn't-been-writing-and-who-has-decided-to-upload-his-works.
Find it at Short Stories Project. More like "story" currently, but I'll add to it later. The reformatting is a pain...
Hope nobody was expecting any ground shattering relevations like me being the PM's illegitmate son who has recently decided to wrestle control of Singapore away from his dastardly father.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Credit Card Fees
Banks nowadays have no integrity. My family received the bill for the membership fee today for our DBS credit card. Not being enamored of that evil thing (it drains my money faster than Superman can change into his ugly tightsuit), my first reaction was to snip it into two and send it back to them using their postage prepaid envelope (no sense wasting it right?).
My mom, being older and infinitely wiser (and more infinitely thick-skinned I must admit), called up customer service instead and told them she wanted to cancel the cards. When that didn't result in "Oh-but-whyyyy!? We can waive the fee you know???", she point blank asked the operator to waive the renewal fee. Like I said, brave.
Needless to say, this led to the expected "Oh-of-course!!! We can waive the fee!!!!" reaction. I've heard that they even waive interest on 1-month late payments, if you can pull off this I-am-the-Imperial-Dowager trick. If I tried it, I'd probably get slapped down and billed a $50 phonecall.
No ethics, some banks. I guess the big book left out a clause:
My mom, being older and infinitely wiser (and more infinitely thick-skinned I must admit), called up customer service instead and told them she wanted to cancel the cards. When that didn't result in "Oh-but-whyyyy!? We can waive the fee you know???", she point blank asked the operator to waive the renewal fee. Like I said, brave.
Needless to say, this led to the expected "Oh-of-course!!! We can waive the fee!!!!" reaction. I've heard that they even waive interest on 1-month late payments, if you can pull off this I-am-the-Imperial-Dowager trick. If I tried it, I'd probably get slapped down and billed a $50 phonecall.
No ethics, some banks. I guess the big book left out a clause:
The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth
But They Shall Pay Their Credit Card Membership Fees While They Are At It
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Randomly, He Wrote
1) Yesterday, I encountered my first non-Qwerty keyboard. Pathetic, I know. I've led a sheltered life. The laptop belonged to Olivier, project mate from France, and looked like this:
Before I realized that it wasn't the standard keyboard we see everyday, I'd already typed in ",ysoc;co,p;nus;sg;!~zeb,qil" in the address bar rather than "mysoc.comp.nus.edu.sg/~webmail". The result was pretty hilarious. Went on to type out an email, at the end of which I felt like a monkey with two left hands. I guess I can't retire to France in future...
2) Worthless rhetorical question of the day: Did you know that Google comes in a Klingon version, a l337 version, an Elmer Fudd version, a Pig Latin version and a Bork version (Muppets: Bork, Bork, Bork!)? I'm not sure you needed to know that, granted it tickles me to do a n0rM4L s34rCh.
3) Mr. Miyagi and Mr. Brown attempted to redefine the sexy kitten look. Unfortunately, they ended up looking like totally whacked IMH patients on the loose. I have a sneaky feeling they were aiming to do that, which makes this the first documented case of Organized Blogger Movement to Suan Sex Kittens. You have been warned- visit on an empty stomach. I think the original sex kitten Sadako (or Samara, since she has immigrated to a foreign well) has something to say to that:
4) Check out this hilarious short movie by Wolf River Pictures, titled Pillowfight. Truly a gem.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Solitaire, PCs and Stoopidididity
This article (free, not like $trait$ Time$) reports on the call for Solitaire to be removed from North Carolina's offices PCs. The crux of this debate is whether non-work relating computing should be allowed in a firm. Some companies swear by giving their employees freedom to exercise their creativity, even it involves shopping at eBay or gambling at an online high stakes poker game. Others, not surprisingly, flat out think that this idea should go the way of the dinosaur.
It's my guess that Singapore will be facing such problems in the years to come. Personally, Solitaire doesn't hold my attention for long. Not when there's this and other small, responsive emulators that can be hidden away within a matter of split seconds (alt-tab!). Solitaire is so outdated.
In related news, this new relevation from UK has pretty much doomed my aspirations to ubergeekdom, as it appears I have stunted levels of literacy and math. It's Solitaire I tell you. There's a conspiracy to lower the IQ of all PC users, school kids included, so Microsoft can take over the world.
Follow the Slashdot discussion on Solitare and stoopid keeds liek mi.
It's my guess that Singapore will be facing such problems in the years to come. Personally, Solitaire doesn't hold my attention for long. Not when there's this and other small, responsive emulators that can be hidden away within a matter of split seconds (alt-tab!). Solitaire is so outdated.
In related news, this new relevation from UK has pretty much doomed my aspirations to ubergeekdom, as it appears I have stunted levels of literacy and math. It's Solitaire I tell you. There's a conspiracy to lower the IQ of all PC users, school kids included, so Microsoft can take over the world.
Follow the Slashdot discussion on Solitare and stoopid keeds liek mi.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
The Outing I Skipped
I have been plagued with tonnes of work this week and last week. If a picture says a thousand words, then this would be it:
from lutc
As a result of this ghastly amount of work, I've:
a) Failed to look for Nasi Lemak Instant Mix for an overseas friend (if it exists)
b) Failed to log on to War of Conquest, resulting in our kingdom being carved into as many pieces as a Christmas turkey
c) Missed a Primary school outing, which I think was attended by four friends... the rest never will hear the end of it.
d) Become one with my laptop. Honest.
5 more papers to go before the exams begin. Makes me weak-kneed just to think of it.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
An Interminable Wait
The worst part so far regarding HYP project selection is the wait. I've read through a long list of projects topics (I don't care what the admin people say. 1/2 of those were written in Greek), set up appointments, visited professors, experienced feelings that range from abject terror and total shock to i-don't-know-what-just-happened blurness, wrote emails to sell myself.
Now this.
The Wait. Having decided that I'll go about this responsibly, I sent off my first email to a professor and resisted the temptation to send out more emails to others. This means that I will not be accepted by more than one professor at a time, since I think that those who mass mail a whole bunch of professors at a time to ensure better chances of acceptance are selfish retards. Not being a selfish retard however, means that I continue to wait for one single professor to say Yea/Nay before making my next move. If Nay, I shall become one of those selfish retards previously described- ethics be damned.
Why the long wait you ask? Heck I'm not sure too. Who can be a better choice other than this young, brilliant, hansem, eloquent, lively, hardworking, well-read, courteous, motivated, humorous, self-aware and ambitious lad who wants to retire by 35? Stop laughing/puking/choking/rolling on the floor. I'm trying to make a point here, in case any prof stumbles across this blog (in which case I think I'll never get a HYP project). Here's my point:
Will HYP for FREE*
* Conditions apply:
1) Project topic must be in English. Psuedo-English or any other variant in disguise will be rejected. Profs with topics like "Porting Trimaran to the Virtex II Pro Platform FPGA" need not apply.
2) Filipino maid services not provided. Will not make, serve or treat kopi or tea, tidy your typhoon-hit office, clean your toilet, empty your trashcan, wash your laundry.
3) Will expect lots of flattery and a spectacular grade in exchange for free brainwork
The HYPE (Honours Year Project Epic) #2
Now this.
The Wait. Having decided that I'll go about this responsibly, I sent off my first email to a professor and resisted the temptation to send out more emails to others. This means that I will not be accepted by more than one professor at a time, since I think that those who mass mail a whole bunch of professors at a time to ensure better chances of acceptance are selfish retards. Not being a selfish retard however, means that I continue to wait for one single professor to say Yea/Nay before making my next move. If Nay, I shall become one of those selfish retards previously described- ethics be damned.
Why the long wait you ask? Heck I'm not sure too. Who can be a better choice other than this young, brilliant, hansem, eloquent, lively, hardworking, well-read, courteous, motivated, humorous, self-aware and ambitious lad who wants to retire by 35? Stop laughing/puking/choking/rolling on the floor. I'm trying to make a point here, in case any prof stumbles across this blog (in which case I think I'll never get a HYP project). Here's my point:
Will HYP for FREE*
* Conditions apply:
1) Project topic must be in English. Psuedo-English or any other variant in disguise will be rejected. Profs with topics like "Porting Trimaran to the Virtex II Pro Platform FPGA" need not apply.
2) Filipino maid services not provided. Will not make, serve or treat kopi or tea, tidy your typhoon-hit office, clean your toilet, empty your trashcan, wash your laundry.
3) Will expect lots of flattery and a spectacular grade in exchange for free brainwork
The HYPE (Honours Year Project Epic) #2
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Begone, Undesirable Graphics
A lot of hanky panky has been going on behind Singapore's relatively quiet comics scene. Even though I seldom frequent comics stores, I like to think that my sharp eyes would have noticed X-rated comics on the shelves those few times I am there. Or maybe these sacred tomes are specially kept behind the counter, reserved for ah peks and other longtime customers who have promising chee-ko-pek potential. In Taiwan on the other hand, these comics and other Undesirable Magazines can be found in common magazine stalls by the roadside. Not that I checked them out. Really. Ahem.
I wonder though, who actually checks the comics for "healthy content". Must be a really fab job, flipping through endless supplies of comics to check for Undesirable Content. What counts as Undesirable Content anyway? Certain Japanese manga have perfectly legal drawings (meaning no fornication) but openly portray socially unacceptable behaviour like homosexual love (metaphysical kind ok?) and maybe gay parties (without the AIDS-causing orgies) as well. Wonder if those make the cut. What about double entendres? Or maybe those Undesirable Comics are never subtle and can make even the most jaded censorship officer swoon. Maybe I should go on an investigative trip to the neighbourhood comics shop...
In another vein, I think MDA should also start censoring the front covers of certain genres of romance novels. The images on some of them will probably make even the most brazen of ah peks blush. The women always seem to be in a state of dishabille, and are either spineless or boneless (possibly both) so that they have to drape themselves over the Arnold Schwarzenegger lookalikes. When you can't beat them, ban them I say! Afterall, they promote Loose Morals amongst women, and even more importantly, totally destroy the self-confidence of men. How many of us actually look like we can lift a horse and eat it too?
What to do with these shameless covers? Longmire to the rescue!
I wonder though, who actually checks the comics for "healthy content". Must be a really fab job, flipping through endless supplies of comics to check for Undesirable Content. What counts as Undesirable Content anyway? Certain Japanese manga have perfectly legal drawings (meaning no fornication) but openly portray socially unacceptable behaviour like homosexual love (metaphysical kind ok?) and maybe gay parties (without the AIDS-causing orgies) as well. Wonder if those make the cut. What about double entendres? Or maybe those Undesirable Comics are never subtle and can make even the most jaded censorship officer swoon. Maybe I should go on an investigative trip to the neighbourhood comics shop...
In another vein, I think MDA should also start censoring the front covers of certain genres of romance novels. The images on some of them will probably make even the most brazen of ah peks blush. The women always seem to be in a state of dishabille, and are either spineless or boneless (possibly both) so that they have to drape themselves over the Arnold Schwarzenegger lookalikes. When you can't beat them, ban them I say! Afterall, they promote Loose Morals amongst women, and even more importantly, totally destroy the self-confidence of men. How many of us actually look like we can lift a horse and eat it too?
What to do with these shameless covers? Longmire to the rescue!
Monday, March 14, 2005
19 Cars. 50 Years. 1 Passion. 1 Blogger Puking.
How disgusting is the latest Mercedes-Benz TV commercial? It lures you in with warm, fuzzy images of a devoted couple who have driven the same Merc for over 30 years and the Danish Ambulance Service which has relied on their Mercedes-Benz vehicles on 12,500 emergency cases.
Then when you're expecting something along the same vein in the local context, the commercial introduces the Khoo family. It helpfully informs you that the Khoos have accumulated 19 cars (all Mercs? The writeup doesn't state it clearly) over 50 years. "19 Cars. 50 Years. One Passion." as they put it. Let me clue the car makers in: 19 cars doth not 1 passion nor faithfulness maketh. If a man has 19 wives, does that mean he's faithful to them!? If a woman has 19 boyfriends, do we say she has 1 passion?! (We'll ignore sex for today, since you obviously cannot copulate with cars.... .... .... right?) If I had 19 pairs of shoes, then "passion" is just an euphemism for fetish. Having 19 cars does not signify a passion for cars; it represents an opulent lunacy.
"Kay Hong's mother recounts how she would get all dressed up for an evening drive, only to have his father make a hasty U-turn if dark clouds appeared on the horizon."
Make that an opulent and lunatic obsession. And as if this obsession wasn't enough, the commercial goes on to show you a smug fellow (presumably a Khoo) driving off in his swanky vehicle. How disgusting is that. If they had to make something in the local context, why not use buses? I can always take a few shots of bus 95 heading to NUS during peak hours. Then they can have a smarmy catchphrase like "8 am. 100 students. 1 overloaded Merc bus which STILL manages to make it to NUS." Much better right? At least it'll reflect everyday life...
Articles of Evidence taken off the commercial posted on the Mercedes Benz website:
Then when you're expecting something along the same vein in the local context, the commercial introduces the Khoo family. It helpfully informs you that the Khoos have accumulated 19 cars (all Mercs? The writeup doesn't state it clearly) over 50 years. "19 Cars. 50 Years. One Passion." as they put it. Let me clue the car makers in: 19 cars doth not 1 passion nor faithfulness maketh. If a man has 19 wives, does that mean he's faithful to them!? If a woman has 19 boyfriends, do we say she has 1 passion?! (We'll ignore sex for today, since you obviously cannot copulate with cars.... .... .... right?) If I had 19 pairs of shoes, then "passion" is just an euphemism for fetish. Having 19 cars does not signify a passion for cars; it represents an opulent lunacy.
"Kay Hong's mother recounts how she would get all dressed up for an evening drive, only to have his father make a hasty U-turn if dark clouds appeared on the horizon."
Make that an opulent and lunatic obsession. And as if this obsession wasn't enough, the commercial goes on to show you a smug fellow (presumably a Khoo) driving off in his swanky vehicle. How disgusting is that. If they had to make something in the local context, why not use buses? I can always take a few shots of bus 95 heading to NUS during peak hours. Then they can have a smarmy catchphrase like "8 am. 100 students. 1 overloaded Merc bus which STILL manages to make it to NUS." Much better right? At least it'll reflect everyday life...
Articles of Evidence taken off the commercial posted on the Mercedes Benz website:
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Great Singapore Gay Epidemic
Dr. Balaji recently fired the first salvo in attempting to root out the source of Singapore's AIDS problem, and a significant cause is the homosexual community and their sex parties which used to be held in conjunction with National Day.
Mr. Brown, Mr. Miyagi and Cowboy Caleb then ridiculed the report and Dr. Balaji's hypothesis, which was in fact provided by an unnamed epidemiologist who no doubt remained anonymous lest the gay community corner him and infect him with AIDS. In addition, the trio also attempted to help clarify matters a bit.
(A) AIDS is spread by gays breathing on people (watch out, unnamed epidemiologist)
(B) Journalism has risen to new heights due to gays (sarcasm ok?). I'm sorry, journalism may have risen to new heights due to gays. (Just a hypothesis)
(C) The war in Iraq is caused by homosexuals (I think they hid the WMDs as well... hypothesis, you understand)
I'm sure if I'd wandered into more blogs, I'd found more sins than that.
Not to be outdone, $trait$ Time$ has returned fire, and shown why it was once the Best Asia Pacific Rim News Paper. Today's report has more sources who will collaborate with Dr. Balaji. There's Sam, David and Unknown Hong Kong Guy. If you check out Fridae.com (won't link there, in case I get blamed for promoting homosexuality, and thus AIDS. I don't want people to die because of me ok?), you might find these three going by the aliases Sam, Frodo and Gollum instead. Journalism has become really easy nowadays, with the proliferation of unnamed sources. It must be considered very hip nowdays to contribute to $trait$ Time$ without disclosing names. When you pay for the online version, you can even access 7 whole days of newspaper articles about Tom, Dick and Harry!
But then again, reading the things some people say, I think it's now understandable why some would remain anonymous.
[excerpt from $trait$ Time$]
But family life educator Koh Su Yin said: 'By having the parties, we are sending the message to young people that such a lifestyle is okay. It also desensitises and normalises a behaviour which would be construed intuitively as unnatural.
'We would not want young people to be attracted to the gay lifestyle as it undermines the basic family value of committed love, the importance of marriage and the stability of a family that constitutes mother- and father-love.'
Not everyone will have the audacity to paint all young people silly, stupid, naive and unopinionated AND imply that it's fine for old people to be attracted to the gay lifestyle in the same breath. Bravo Ms. Koh. Next time, parliament should make it a point to ban something if they want to teach young people a lesson. Don't want them to jaywalk? Ban cars so it is not considered jaywalking. Don't want them to take drugs? Ban all medicine in Singapore. Don't want them to be childless? Ban singlehood and exile the singles. Don't want locals to enter the casino? Ban them from Sentosa lor. Don't want people to dirty the streets? Ban the sale of chewing gum. Oh wait. Already kena banned. Forgot. Anyway, if we do that, we can be sure that brainless young people who think with their genitalia will not be intuitively desensitised. So simple, this policy-making business. I can do it also.
But of course, I must remain anonymous. So don't be surprised if you see "Cap'n Intrepid" appearing in the $trait$ Time$.
Mr. Brown, Mr. Miyagi and Cowboy Caleb then ridiculed the report and Dr. Balaji's hypothesis, which was in fact provided by an unnamed epidemiologist who no doubt remained anonymous lest the gay community corner him and infect him with AIDS. In addition, the trio also attempted to help clarify matters a bit.
(A) AIDS is spread by gays breathing on people (watch out, unnamed epidemiologist)
(B) Journalism has risen to new heights due to gays (sarcasm ok?). I'm sorry, journalism may have risen to new heights due to gays. (Just a hypothesis)
(C) The war in Iraq is caused by homosexuals (I think they hid the WMDs as well... hypothesis, you understand)
I'm sure if I'd wandered into more blogs, I'd found more sins than that.
Not to be outdone, $trait$ Time$ has returned fire, and shown why it was once the Best Asia Pacific Rim News Paper. Today's report has more sources who will collaborate with Dr. Balaji. There's Sam, David and Unknown Hong Kong Guy. If you check out Fridae.com (won't link there, in case I get blamed for promoting homosexuality, and thus AIDS. I don't want people to die because of me ok?), you might find these three going by the aliases Sam, Frodo and Gollum instead. Journalism has become really easy nowadays, with the proliferation of unnamed sources. It must be considered very hip nowdays to contribute to $trait$ Time$ without disclosing names. When you pay for the online version, you can even access 7 whole days of newspaper articles about Tom, Dick and Harry!
But then again, reading the things some people say, I think it's now understandable why some would remain anonymous.
[excerpt from $trait$ Time$]
But family life educator Koh Su Yin said: 'By having the parties, we are sending the message to young people that such a lifestyle is okay. It also desensitises and normalises a behaviour which would be construed intuitively as unnatural.
'We would not want young people to be attracted to the gay lifestyle as it undermines the basic family value of committed love, the importance of marriage and the stability of a family that constitutes mother- and father-love.'
Not everyone will have the audacity to paint all young people silly, stupid, naive and unopinionated AND imply that it's fine for old people to be attracted to the gay lifestyle in the same breath. Bravo Ms. Koh. Next time, parliament should make it a point to ban something if they want to teach young people a lesson. Don't want them to jaywalk? Ban cars so it is not considered jaywalking. Don't want them to take drugs? Ban all medicine in Singapore. Don't want them to be childless? Ban singlehood and exile the singles. Don't want locals to enter the casino? Ban them from Sentosa lor. Don't want people to dirty the streets? Ban the sale of chewing gum. Oh wait. Already kena banned. Forgot. Anyway, if we do that, we can be sure that brainless young people who think with their genitalia will not be intuitively desensitised. So simple, this policy-making business. I can do it also.
But of course, I must remain anonymous. So don't be surprised if you see "Cap'n Intrepid" appearing in the $trait$ Time$.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Youth Creativity
The government is going to encourage creativity in Singaporean youths by dedicating a plot of land in Orchard to them. This area will be larger than the current Youth Park (Never heard of that? Apathetic youth, you.), and "youth all over the world and tourists will say it's a must-see sight in Singapore". To do that, the government "will get views of the young on what they want to see there and activities they want conducted there". Then "designers, architects and businessmen" will step in and "ensure that this place is commercially viable, exciting, interesting and ultimately contribute to the overall attractions that Orchard Road will have".
Since this area is smack in the middle of The Premier Tourist Revenue Generation Street, there must understandably be some limits. First, there should be no jumping off buildings like what this Bedok South Secondary youth did. You might injure your ankle, or worse, get your teacher into hot soup for not keeping an eye on you. Next, you also cannot taupok your peers. You might poke out their eyes, inflict grievous injury to their behinds, inadvertently (or purposely) molest them, cause them to asphyxiate. Even worse, you might cause irritated parents from a Premier JC In the Bishan-Ang Mo Kio Area to write blistering letters to the $trait$ Time$. We don't want that happening. Thirdly, you also cannot be foul-mouthed like a certain NMP. You cannot say "shit" and "rubbish" and other unparliamentary words, otherwise you risk getting spanked by the whip. This automatically means cannot spray paint foul words ok? Scrap that. No spray paint period. This is Premier Tourist Revenue Generation Street. Got an image to uphold.
Other than these (and the ten thousand rules we will add later), youths can feel free to be creative!
I think I'm considered a youth (because I'm still watched by PAPa), and it's my guess that this plot of land will turn out to be as lifeless as Speaker's Corner (Never heard of that? Pragmatic youth, you...). You don't set aside land for creativity. You don't plan for creativity. You don't make creativity the slave of commercial viability. You don't force creativity to conform to the charms of The Premier Tourist Revenue Generation Street. You don't market creativity like you would a tourist attraction. Creativity blossoms in a grain of sand, in a wild flower. Carefully engineered parks, plans, blueprints, or commercial viability often end up stifling that which it seeks to promote in the first place.
Links
Cheeky shows some creativity. Prime Time Morning Revamped and The Forum Incident. Wannabe Lawyer demonstrates how Uni life can weigh down creativity. Glad I'm not in Law afterall.
Since this area is smack in the middle of The Premier Tourist Revenue Generation Street, there must understandably be some limits. First, there should be no jumping off buildings like what this Bedok South Secondary youth did. You might injure your ankle, or worse, get your teacher into hot soup for not keeping an eye on you. Next, you also cannot taupok your peers. You might poke out their eyes, inflict grievous injury to their behinds, inadvertently (or purposely) molest them, cause them to asphyxiate. Even worse, you might cause irritated parents from a Premier JC In the Bishan-Ang Mo Kio Area to write blistering letters to the $trait$ Time$. We don't want that happening. Thirdly, you also cannot be foul-mouthed like a certain NMP. You cannot say "shit" and "rubbish" and other unparliamentary words, otherwise you risk getting spanked by the whip. This automatically means cannot spray paint foul words ok? Scrap that. No spray paint period. This is Premier Tourist Revenue Generation Street. Got an image to uphold.
Other than these (and the ten thousand rules we will add later), youths can feel free to be creative!
I think I'm considered a youth (because I'm still watched by PAPa), and it's my guess that this plot of land will turn out to be as lifeless as Speaker's Corner (Never heard of that? Pragmatic youth, you...). You don't set aside land for creativity. You don't plan for creativity. You don't make creativity the slave of commercial viability. You don't force creativity to conform to the charms of The Premier Tourist Revenue Generation Street. You don't market creativity like you would a tourist attraction. Creativity blossoms in a grain of sand, in a wild flower. Carefully engineered parks, plans, blueprints, or commercial viability often end up stifling that which it seeks to promote in the first place.
Links
Cheeky shows some creativity. Prime Time Morning Revamped and The Forum Incident. Wannabe Lawyer demonstrates how Uni life can weigh down creativity. Glad I'm not in Law afterall.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Internship Preparations v1.1
Internship interviews are just round the corner. Like any bloke, I get nervous at the prospect of facing a panel (note the resemblance to "penal") of interviewers. This year, since I've taken to blogging more seriously, I've decided to keep a running list of interview questions, with replies that will hopefully NOT make me blurt out in laughter during the actual interviews.
Anybody else has common questions? The list so far (the links work!):
1) What are your strengths?
1) What are your strengths?
- I am equally good at dissecting an algorithm as I am dissecting a poem. (I don't do both that well... so equally good might be contentious. Not a lie exactly. Mere technicality.)
- I am a fantastic mole who can spy and report on all company gossip. My last immediate boss loved me until I rat on him to the CEO.
- I can sit here and tell you what brand of underwear suits you, because I've been trained since Primary School to imagine all figures of authority naked. All of you are very sexy by the way.
- I am a very principled, punctual and motivated fast-learner who is driven to excel. (Dictionary: Principled - won't bring work home. Punctual - leaves office at the dot. Motivated: will jump ship at first better offer. Fast-learner: I ape others wholesale and call it learning. Driven to excel: will backstab for promotion.) (^)
2) What are your weaknesses?
- I have none. There are some rumours out there that I am Superman incarnate. That is incorrect. Sissy Superman is scared of Kryponite. No green stuff is going to get me down. (Add a confident smile here to charm them.)
- I like Barney the Dinosaur. I think he's cooler than the Teletubbies. But my nephew says I am stupid, because the Telebubbies can send Barney back to the jurassic age where he belongs. I told him that Barney is way stronger than that, and no singing tubs of lard will ever.... I'm sorry? I can go now? But I'm not done!
- I cannot lie to you guys. I have no weakness. Others will try to impress you with their amazing self-knowledge, or try to distract you by rewording strengths as weaknesses (I'm hardworking = I need to rebalance my social life). That's just bull. I'm straight with you guys. Just like Simon Cowell on American Idol. Props to me yah? (^)
3) Where do you see your place in the company three years down the road?
- I see myself usurping the current CEO of his post. The board of directors will pay me 4 times his salary.
- The office janitor. I'm humble that way, you see.
- Erm. Three years? I can't even plan three days down the road. This is a trick question right? (Hopeful look)
- I'll be your boss. So you'd better be nice to me now. I'll definitely remember it later.
- Prosecution witness, for the Commercial Affairs Department. (^)
4) Why do you think this company should hire you?
- Hey, not my loss, so chill. Call me when you finally realize the answer to that. (Saunter out of the room, Hugo Boss style.)
- Why not? Do you have something against Chinese males? (Expectant look/ Stare them down.)
- Because otherwise no one else will and I'll have to take up basking outside of Tampines MRT station. Because I'm a lousy entertainer, someone will call the police. The police will come and throw me into jail for illegal basking, and I'll have to go to court. I'll have to get my lawyer friends (and I got at least two, so don't play play) to represent me. Then I'll be acquited after some long trials. By then school will have started but I will have no money leftover for school fees. I'll have to bug the lecturers and administrators everyday so that I can remain in NUS, because I love school so damn much. (Deep breath) Now do you see why you have to hire me? (^)
Questions 5-7 taken off IDA scholarship application, of which I am interested, trying out for and do not stand a chance. Also known as "How to lose that scholarship."
5) What are your goals and how do you plan to achieve them?
- To have my World of Warcraft character reach level 99. I'll misuse company resources duing working hours to make sure I get there.
- To retire by age 35, using the E3 technique. That's extortion, espionage and embezzelment.
- To invent a worldwide network accessible by millions of intelligent machines, so that everyone can share information and- what? Have I heard of the Internet? No. Is it edible? (^)
6) What is the type of organization and work you would be interested in?
- Allow me to be succinct and specific: Microsoft; Billy's position will be fine. (^)
7) Share with us some events in your life where you had to make an important decision and how you arrived at that position and why?
- Well, December last year, I had to make a reeaaally tough choice. It was something that would have directly affected at least the next 2 years of my life! Should I get a PS2 or XBox? See, I like lots of games on PS2 but XBox seems to have better capabilities. I also had to take into consideration which firm will come out with the next generation of console! What a tough choice. In the end, I took a bus and arrived at Tampines Mall, and got a XBox instead of PS2, cuz I think the black body goes with the green logo very well! What do you think? (^)
Anybody else has common questions? The list so far (the links work!):
1) What are your strengths?
5) What are your goals and how do you plan to achieve them? *
6) What is the type of organization and work you would be interested in? *
7) Share with us some events in your life where you had to make an important decision and how you arrived at that position and why? *
6) What is the type of organization and work you would be interested in? *
7) Share with us some events in your life where you had to make an important decision and how you arrived at that position and why? *
* new to this version
# updated in this version
Click (^) to arrive back here
____________________________________________________
1) What are your strengths?
- I am equally good at dissecting an algorithm as I am dissecting a poem. (I don't do both that well... so equally good might be contentious. Not a lie exactly. Mere technicality.)
- I am a fantastic mole who can spy and report on all company gossip. My last immediate boss loved me until I rat on him to the CEO.
- I can sit here and tell you what brand of underwear suits you, because I've been trained since Primary School to imagine all figures of authority naked. All of you are very sexy by the way.
- I am a very principled, punctual and motivated fast-learner who is driven to excel. (Dictionary: Principled - won't bring work home. Punctual - leaves office at the dot. Motivated: will jump ship at first better offer. Fast-learner: I ape others wholesale and call it learning. Driven to excel: will backstab for promotion.) (^)
2) What are your weaknesses?
- I have none. There are some rumours out there that I am Superman incarnate. That is incorrect. Sissy Superman is scared of Kryponite. No green stuff is going to get me down. (Add a confident smile here to charm them.)
- I like Barney the Dinosaur. I think he's cooler than the Teletubbies. But my nephew says I am stupid, because the Telebubbies can send Barney back to the jurassic age where he belongs. I told him that Barney is way stronger than that, and no singing tubs of lard will ever.... I'm sorry? I can go now? But I'm not done!
- I cannot lie to you guys. I have no weakness. Others will try to impress you with their amazing self-knowledge, or try to distract you by rewording strengths as weaknesses (I'm hardworking = I need to rebalance my social life). That's just bull. I'm straight with you guys. Just like Simon Cowell on American Idol. Props to me yah? (^)
3) Where do you see your place in the company three years down the road?
- I see myself usurping the current CEO of his post. The board of directors will pay me 4 times his salary.
- The office janitor. I'm humble that way, you see.
- Erm. Three years? I can't even plan three days down the road. This is a trick question right? (Hopeful look)
- I'll be your boss. So you'd better be nice to me now. I'll definitely remember it later.
- Prosecution witness, for the Commercial Affairs Department. (^)
4) Why do you think this company should hire you?
- Hey, not my loss, so chill. Call me when you finally realize the answer to that. (Saunter out of the room, Hugo Boss style.)
- Why not? Do you have something against Chinese males? (Expectant look/ Stare them down.)
- Because otherwise no one else will and I'll have to take up basking outside of Tampines MRT station. Because I'm a lousy entertainer, someone will call the police. The police will come and throw me into jail for illegal basking, and I'll have to go to court. I'll have to get my lawyer friends (and I got at least two, so don't play play) to represent me. Then I'll be acquited after some long trials. By then school will have started but I will have no money leftover for school fees. I'll have to bug the lecturers and administrators everyday so that I can remain in NUS, because I love school so damn much. (Deep breath) Now do you see why you have to hire me? (^)
Questions 5-7 taken off IDA scholarship application, of which I am interested, trying out for and do not stand a chance. Also known as "How to lose that scholarship."
5) What are your goals and how do you plan to achieve them?
- To have my World of Warcraft character reach level 99. I'll misuse company resources duing working hours to make sure I get there.
- To retire by age 35, using the E3 technique. That's extortion, espionage and embezzelment.
- To invent a worldwide network accessible by millions of intelligent machines, so that everyone can share information and- what? Have I heard of the Internet? No. Is it edible? (^)
6) What is the type of organization and work you would be interested in?
- Allow me to be succinct and specific: Microsoft; Billy's position will be fine. (^)
7) Share with us some events in your life where you had to make an important decision and how you arrived at that position and why?
- Well, December last year, I had to make a reeaaally tough choice. It was something that would have directly affected at least the next 2 years of my life! Should I get a PS2 or XBox? See, I like lots of games on PS2 but XBox seems to have better capabilities. I also had to take into consideration which firm will come out with the next generation of console! What a tough choice. In the end, I took a bus and arrived at Tampines Mall, and got a XBox instead of PS2, cuz I think the black body goes with the green logo very well! What do you think? (^)
Version History:
1.0 ----- 7th March 2005
1.1 ----- 10th March 2005
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
And So It Begins
The heavy door slides open at the gentlest touch, with nary a sound but a muted whoosh. The hallowed hall of SOC1 Level 5 remains reverently hushed, but a slight, very slight, tightening of the atmosphere can be felt, whispering on our skin. It is almost as if the building has clenched in anticipation, and the frenetic dust motes have ceased their collective dance to observe the next few moments, enraptured and expectantly perched on their vantage position in the air. Noise emanating from the traffic in the outside world mutes. Breezes calm. Leaves settle. Heartbeats still.
Silence.
In this one perfect moment, but for a fraction of a second, life appears to beckon. Against all odds and expectations, it offers us everything we have ever dreamt of. Everything.
In this one perfect moment, we dare to believe, to desire, to reach out and grasp. We yearn for, we ponder, we cherish, we remember the aspirations made long ago. Some have been forgotten; some are repressed but secretly caressed during private moments in the still of the darkest nights: the glowing embers of an eternal flame.
In this one perfect moment, we desire, more than anything, for more.
Silence.
We cross the threshold and the door slides close with yet another whoosh. The building exhales, and the dust motes, released from their spell, dance upon the air once more, delicate with nimble feet. Life resumes. Traffic, breezes, leaves, heartbeats, air-conditioners, people throb with activity. We greet the professor, exchange platitudes and take our seats. We smile, we laugh, we talk. And at the back of my mind, I know. In spite of ourselves and fractured plans, the simplest of actions- opening a door on a afternoon, stepping into a room full of books- can shimmer for one brief but perfect moment, and be sufficient sustenance for a lifetime.
And so it begins.
This entry is the first in the series titled "The HYPE", short for The Honours Year Project Epic. Future entries will be less arty farty. I promise.
Silence.
In this one perfect moment, but for a fraction of a second, life appears to beckon. Against all odds and expectations, it offers us everything we have ever dreamt of. Everything.
In this one perfect moment, we dare to believe, to desire, to reach out and grasp. We yearn for, we ponder, we cherish, we remember the aspirations made long ago. Some have been forgotten; some are repressed but secretly caressed during private moments in the still of the darkest nights: the glowing embers of an eternal flame.
In this one perfect moment, we desire, more than anything, for more.
Silence.
We cross the threshold and the door slides close with yet another whoosh. The building exhales, and the dust motes, released from their spell, dance upon the air once more, delicate with nimble feet. Life resumes. Traffic, breezes, leaves, heartbeats, air-conditioners, people throb with activity. We greet the professor, exchange platitudes and take our seats. We smile, we laugh, we talk. And at the back of my mind, I know. In spite of ourselves and fractured plans, the simplest of actions- opening a door on a afternoon, stepping into a room full of books- can shimmer for one brief but perfect moment, and be sufficient sustenance for a lifetime.
And so it begins.
This entry is the first in the series titled "The HYPE", short for The Honours Year Project Epic. Future entries will be less arty farty. I promise.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Employment Oscars
Yesterday, NUS released their employment statistics for the last batch of graduates. For those not in the know, this is an annual exercise in muscle flexing by each University. The lowdown is that the top earners from NUS last year were Medicine and Law students, while engineering students got a huge percentage of jobs. The banking and finance sectors employed more NUS students, while it was also reported that NUS students earn a starting average of 2.37K a month.
Did anyone else notice that there was no mention of IT/ IS students? It doesn't matter that IDA is pumping millions of dollars into a 24 hrs threat monitoring centre. IT/ IS students will still have to slug it out in the employment market.
Like what one project mate would say, "This time bird liao".
It all started this morning, when I chanced upon Mr Brown's blog entry which linked to Singapore Serf's blog entry. This was the precursor to at least 15 minutes of depression. After these two cheery entries, I read the papers and came across the statistics. Some of their combined cheeriness must have rubbed off me. Then one Medicine friend (He was gloating by the way. IT/ IS students who want his email and/or location so that you can execute revenge can drop me a line.) asked how many First Class honors from my course were there last year. A quick check revealed only 7. Talk about endangered species...
Also saw the honours year projects for next year. I emailed a request that the adminstrators post a version in English, thank you very much. Don't quite think their peals of laughter have subsided yet. Fitting Theory to Organizational Security Information?! A Reconfigurable Transport Service for Converged Networks?! A Visual Tool of Statecharts for Reactive System Modelling?! Visualisation Tools for Reflective Learning?! For pity sakes...
All these lead me to wonder where I will be in two years' time. I could be in Mumbai, trying to edge myself into their lucrative outsourcing scene. I could be in China, because everyone says it's a market that is oh-so-hot. Or I could be standing next to Tampines MRT station, basking and generally making an ass of myself.
Really bird liao.
Did anyone else notice that there was no mention of IT/ IS students? It doesn't matter that IDA is pumping millions of dollars into a 24 hrs threat monitoring centre. IT/ IS students will still have to slug it out in the employment market.
Like what one project mate would say, "This time bird liao".
It all started this morning, when I chanced upon Mr Brown's blog entry which linked to Singapore Serf's blog entry. This was the precursor to at least 15 minutes of depression. After these two cheery entries, I read the papers and came across the statistics. Some of their combined cheeriness must have rubbed off me. Then one Medicine friend (He was gloating by the way. IT/ IS students who want his email and/or location so that you can execute revenge can drop me a line.) asked how many First Class honors from my course were there last year. A quick check revealed only 7. Talk about endangered species...
Also saw the honours year projects for next year. I emailed a request that the adminstrators post a version in English, thank you very much. Don't quite think their peals of laughter have subsided yet. Fitting Theory to Organizational Security Information?! A Reconfigurable Transport Service for Converged Networks?! A Visual Tool of Statecharts for Reactive System Modelling?! Visualisation Tools for Reflective Learning?! For pity sakes...
All these lead me to wonder where I will be in two years' time. I could be in Mumbai, trying to edge myself into their lucrative outsourcing scene. I could be in China, because everyone says it's a market that is oh-so-hot. Or I could be standing next to Tampines MRT station, basking and generally making an ass of myself.
Really bird liao.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Something for Pianos
Recently caught the trailer for Spanglish, which featured Five for Fighting's 100 Years. That was it. I fell for the movie, hook, line and sinker.
Nevermind that the general concensus was that the movie sucked. Nevermind that Adam Sandler in a low-key and heartwarming family comedy (with a moral to boot?!) is as unlikely as presidents having phone sex (Oops. Been there, done that.). Nevermind that the beautiful Tea Leoni paired with Sandler brings to mind Beauty and the Beast. Nevermind that the beautiful and somewhat tragic Spanish immigrant maid role reeks of stereotyping. Nevermind all that. The trailer music has lovely piano interludes. And therefore I shall watch the movie, love it, and spam the Academy with millions of nomination suggestions when Oscars time comes next year. Incidentally, the song has pretty meaningful lyrics. Nevermind that though.
If you know the extent of my musical talent, you'll know that my piano skills are limited to banging discordant notes. Tickle the ivories? Not me. I bash them till they either beg for mercy or fall down and die. My secondary school ECA conductor has told ("told" is an euphemism, boys and girls, for scold until no night no day, no finish no end) me in plain enough terms that I am tone deaf and therefore utterly useless to society. Yes. It's sad, but the abuse I had to take in my childhood was real. I wonder if that monkey is still torturing AHS's harmonica orchestra. The old coot... I still have dreams of decapitating him with my cymbal ala a musical Kill Bill.
My traumatized childhood and general "musical-cannot-make-it"ness notwithstanding, I still swoon when songs with lovely piano interludes start playing. Other than 100 Years, I've also been known to enter a fugue state when listening to Martina McBride's Valentine, Marc Cohn's Walking in Memphis, Richard Marx's Right Here Waiting, Tim McGraw's version of Tiny Dancer and Brian Adams' Everything I Do, I Do It For You. Anyone who is going to impugn my manhood can just go ahead and try.
If you do it using a piano, I'll even add you to my list!
Nevermind that the general concensus was that the movie sucked. Nevermind that Adam Sandler in a low-key and heartwarming family comedy (with a moral to boot?!) is as unlikely as presidents having phone sex (Oops. Been there, done that.). Nevermind that the beautiful Tea Leoni paired with Sandler brings to mind Beauty and the Beast. Nevermind that the beautiful and somewhat tragic Spanish immigrant maid role reeks of stereotyping. Nevermind all that. The trailer music has lovely piano interludes. And therefore I shall watch the movie, love it, and spam the Academy with millions of nomination suggestions when Oscars time comes next year. Incidentally, the song has pretty meaningful lyrics. Nevermind that though.
If you know the extent of my musical talent, you'll know that my piano skills are limited to banging discordant notes. Tickle the ivories? Not me. I bash them till they either beg for mercy or fall down and die. My secondary school ECA conductor has told ("told" is an euphemism, boys and girls, for scold until no night no day, no finish no end) me in plain enough terms that I am tone deaf and therefore utterly useless to society. Yes. It's sad, but the abuse I had to take in my childhood was real. I wonder if that monkey is still torturing AHS's harmonica orchestra. The old coot... I still have dreams of decapitating him with my cymbal ala a musical Kill Bill.
My traumatized childhood and general "musical-cannot-make-it"ness notwithstanding, I still swoon when songs with lovely piano interludes start playing. Other than 100 Years, I've also been known to enter a fugue state when listening to Martina McBride's Valentine, Marc Cohn's Walking in Memphis, Richard Marx's Right Here Waiting, Tim McGraw's version of Tiny Dancer and Brian Adams' Everything I Do, I Do It For You. Anyone who is going to impugn my manhood can just go ahead and try.
If you do it using a piano, I'll even add you to my list!
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Virtually yours
The New York Times and Straits Times carried an article on the latest line of girlfriends to hit the market. A virtual one. Her name is Vivienne Rose, and she will ride on your 3G handphone for US$6 a month. That's only the service subscription fee. If you want more of her, you'll have to fork out more money for 3G airtime and virtual gifts. If you're good enough, eventually you'll get marry her in a virtual ceremony, and get nagged by a virtual mother-in-law who will call you up (presumably you'll also pay airtime to get nagged). Eventually, the company will have a virtual harem of girlfriends to cater to your every whim and fancy, which can range from S&M to same-gender adventures.
The idea of Vivienne spooks me out totally. What kind of a girlfriend is she, that she can appear to anybody who pays (not just men too, mind you), on 3G cellphones around the world? Why does her name resemble Julia Roberts' hooker character on Pretty Woman? Why am I limited to only 1 hour with her a day? Is it so that she can divide her time between other guys (technically speaking, divide her processing power)? The company wants to promote Vivienne as a "practice round" before real relationships. How exactly will women feel if they discover their boyfriends have paid to engage in a virtual relationship? Perhaps a trio of ladies will sit down one day to gossip, and discover that all three of their boyfriends had an ex named Vivienne Rose. These six people will then be linked in a virtual debauchery of sorts. How weird is that?
Now, if some guys are really desperate enough to sign up for a virtual girlfriend, allow me to list some cheaper alternatives:
a) Inflatables. Don't snicker- at least they're touchable and low maintenance. If you give them gifts like chocolates (and they won't whine if you don't), you'll still end up keeping the gifts yourself. How cool is that.
b) Tamagotchi. Who says they're passe? They may not have the looks, but hey, at least your lady friends won't ever find out that you've paid money for a virtual girlfriend. Spare yourself the humiliation.
c) A book. Seriously. Occupy your hands holding a book. They'll have less time to wander to naughty places. And it enriches your mind too. Notice I did not say magazines, so FHM, Maxim and Penthouse all don't count.
d) A night out with the guys. You can ogle at pretty ladies and drink yourselves silly, then reminisce over NS days. Those guys will tell you how silly Vivienne Rose is. They da men! Resist when they try to shanghai you for a trip down to Geylang.
e) If all else fails, whip out that little black appointment book and opt for a good old fashion, low-tech date with a good old fashioned girl.
The idea of Vivienne spooks me out totally. What kind of a girlfriend is she, that she can appear to anybody who pays (not just men too, mind you), on 3G cellphones around the world? Why does her name resemble Julia Roberts' hooker character on Pretty Woman? Why am I limited to only 1 hour with her a day? Is it so that she can divide her time between other guys (technically speaking, divide her processing power)? The company wants to promote Vivienne as a "practice round" before real relationships. How exactly will women feel if they discover their boyfriends have paid to engage in a virtual relationship? Perhaps a trio of ladies will sit down one day to gossip, and discover that all three of their boyfriends had an ex named Vivienne Rose. These six people will then be linked in a virtual debauchery of sorts. How weird is that?
Now, if some guys are really desperate enough to sign up for a virtual girlfriend, allow me to list some cheaper alternatives:
a) Inflatables. Don't snicker- at least they're touchable and low maintenance. If you give them gifts like chocolates (and they won't whine if you don't), you'll still end up keeping the gifts yourself. How cool is that.
b) Tamagotchi. Who says they're passe? They may not have the looks, but hey, at least your lady friends won't ever find out that you've paid money for a virtual girlfriend. Spare yourself the humiliation.
c) A book. Seriously. Occupy your hands holding a book. They'll have less time to wander to naughty places. And it enriches your mind too. Notice I did not say magazines, so FHM, Maxim and Penthouse all don't count.
d) A night out with the guys. You can ogle at pretty ladies and drink yourselves silly, then reminisce over NS days. Those guys will tell you how silly Vivienne Rose is. They da men! Resist when they try to shanghai you for a trip down to Geylang.
e) If all else fails, whip out that little black appointment book and opt for a good old fashion, low-tech date with a good old fashioned girl.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Snapshot #1
How readers landed here via search engines. Don't mind if I poke fun!
Yahoo: enlightened despot
Google: year of the rooster-horse (Rooster-horse? Some mutated Griffin maybe...)
Yahoo: the enlightened despot
Google: Badminton matches bittorrent
Google: "five P's of strategy" (Pilfer, pillage, plunder, plague and procrastinate?)
Google: "Chuan-pi" network
Google: famous proofs
Google: tutte's theorem dna
Google: zhang wenjie (oooooh. I have myself a stalker! Sweet...)
Google: taufik blessings download mp3 (ahem. no illegal stuff here. ahem.)
Google: nus aup fine (Somebody needs a lawyer...)
Google: nus student union aup
Google: "keeping your contacts up to date"
Google: enlightened despot
Google: SMU poster girl
Google: karaoke wannabe stereotypes
AOL Search: enlightened despot
Google: 蔣友常 (My ploy worked I guess...)
Google: "cap'n intrepid" (oooooh. Another stalker!)
Google: Mourinho personality bloomberg (I'm not going to even try to make sense of this.)
Friday, March 04, 2005
Closer to Modern Love
I watched Closer with my lady today. Being in possession of extraordinary talent, I can sum up the film in one short sentence, using only 6 words in 10 syllables:
There. I challenge those who have caught the movie to beat my summary. Make sure you retain the element of adultery and/or lying and/ or dirty talk and/ or manic, indiscriminate sex that I've cleverly associated with the word monkey.
On a more serious note, Closer is a movie that highlights the isolation in today's dysfunctional society. It doesn't attempt to whitewash or present an haughty, art-house air that will ensure eternal devotion from reviewers like Ong Sor Fern (Incidentally, she will also give Brad Pitt's naked torso 5 stars. Peter Jackson had to recreate Middle Earth in Lord of the Rings, Wolfgang Petersen only had to make Brad Pitt strip in the farce that is Troy.). The plot is marginally sophisticated, and the dialogue is earthy and rancous 75% of the time. But it succeeds spendidly in presenting four deeply flawed characters who will drive psychiatrists delirious with joy. While no viewers can ultimately root for any of them, they become the conduit through which modern relationships are deconstructed in the film. The lack of trust, love, commitment and decency that is laid out jars the senses. Selfishness, deceit, spinelessness, unfaithfulness all become "the currency of the world".
What I particularly enjoyed though was Natalie Porter's character, Alice. Porter doesn't light up the screen like Julia Roberts does, but her role of a deceptive ingenue was so well written and subtle that I didn't appreciate it until long after the credits rolled. Her identity is shrouded in mystery, and viewers later realize that not even her name is real. "Alice" was stolen off a memorial plate - she is actually a person who died in the rescue of another. Her appearance radically changes, and her chosen profession is by turns a wanderer, a muse, a stripper, a waitress. Her opening words, "Hello, stranger.", define the movie from beginning to end. Her saucy strut taunts you to label her, though she clearly knows that all that you have come to believe of her has been based on a facade. When the credits roll, even the viewers are strangers to the film. Seeking a resolution and finding none, realizing that so much that we accepted as the movie's reality were actually lies, we can't help but feel the bite of isolation even more. (I can see that look on your face... You think computing students can't be arty farty too??)
This reminds me of a poem by Matthew Arnold, titled To Marguerite and prominently alluded to in John Fowles' The French Lieutenant's Woman:
So maybe- just maybe- the monkey sex had something to it afterall.
"Two cheating couples having monkey sex."
There. I challenge those who have caught the movie to beat my summary. Make sure you retain the element of adultery and/or lying and/ or dirty talk and/ or manic, indiscriminate sex that I've cleverly associated with the word monkey.
On a more serious note, Closer is a movie that highlights the isolation in today's dysfunctional society. It doesn't attempt to whitewash or present an haughty, art-house air that will ensure eternal devotion from reviewers like Ong Sor Fern (Incidentally, she will also give Brad Pitt's naked torso 5 stars. Peter Jackson had to recreate Middle Earth in Lord of the Rings, Wolfgang Petersen only had to make Brad Pitt strip in the farce that is Troy.). The plot is marginally sophisticated, and the dialogue is earthy and rancous 75% of the time. But it succeeds spendidly in presenting four deeply flawed characters who will drive psychiatrists delirious with joy. While no viewers can ultimately root for any of them, they become the conduit through which modern relationships are deconstructed in the film. The lack of trust, love, commitment and decency that is laid out jars the senses. Selfishness, deceit, spinelessness, unfaithfulness all become "the currency of the world".
What I particularly enjoyed though was Natalie Porter's character, Alice. Porter doesn't light up the screen like Julia Roberts does, but her role of a deceptive ingenue was so well written and subtle that I didn't appreciate it until long after the credits rolled. Her identity is shrouded in mystery, and viewers later realize that not even her name is real. "Alice" was stolen off a memorial plate - she is actually a person who died in the rescue of another. Her appearance radically changes, and her chosen profession is by turns a wanderer, a muse, a stripper, a waitress. Her opening words, "Hello, stranger.", define the movie from beginning to end. Her saucy strut taunts you to label her, though she clearly knows that all that you have come to believe of her has been based on a facade. When the credits roll, even the viewers are strangers to the film. Seeking a resolution and finding none, realizing that so much that we accepted as the movie's reality were actually lies, we can't help but feel the bite of isolation even more. (I can see that look on your face... You think computing students can't be arty farty too??)
This reminds me of a poem by Matthew Arnold, titled To Marguerite and prominently alluded to in John Fowles' The French Lieutenant's Woman:
Yes: in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown.
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
We mortal millions live alone.
The islands feel the enclasping flow,
And then their endless bounds they know.
But when the moon their hollow lights,
And they are swept by balms of spring,
And in their glens, on starry nights,
The nightingales divinely sing;
And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
Across the sounds and channels pour;
O then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent!
For surely once, they feel, we were
Parts of a single continent.
Now round us spreads the watery plain--
O might our marges meet again!
Who order'd that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd?
Who renders vain their deep desire?--
A God, a God their severence ruled;
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.
With echoing straits between us thrown.
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
We mortal millions live alone.
The islands feel the enclasping flow,
And then their endless bounds they know.
But when the moon their hollow lights,
And they are swept by balms of spring,
And in their glens, on starry nights,
The nightingales divinely sing;
And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
Across the sounds and channels pour;
O then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent!
For surely once, they feel, we were
Parts of a single continent.
Now round us spreads the watery plain--
O might our marges meet again!
Who order'd that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd?
Who renders vain their deep desire?--
A God, a God their severence ruled;
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.
So maybe- just maybe- the monkey sex had something to it afterall.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Star obsessions
Zoe Tay has given birth lately. I know her son's birthdate, time of birth and weight at birth. I know her son's name (What kind of a name is "Brayden" anyway? Donkeys bray. So that makes Brayden a compound word for a den/ lair/ burrow of donkeys. How odd.), what milk formula he'll be drinking, and for how long he'll feed on breast milk instead. If I find myself inclined to do so, I can watch Channel 8 and learn what pram he'll use, what diapers will fit him best and what brand of toys he'll play with, because Zoe has her own pregnancy programme. I am convinced that when Brayden grows up, I'll know what brand of underwear he buys, what his feet size is, what his IQ level is, who is the hairdresser who trims his hair, and maybe even how high his sperm count is.
It would appear we are a nation which loves their celebrities. Little Brayden, being no more than 2 weeks old, has already received as much media coverage as the 2005 Budget. I have nothing against the tot, mind you, and neither am I a Zoe-hater. It's just that I find it unreasonable that her pregnancy should warrant so much attention. Even babies who belong to the exclusive 2.1 babies club that our government put on a pedestal don't receive so much attention. Neither do the first babies born on the Lunar and International New Year respectively grab so much limelight. From all the coverage he has received, you'd have thought that Brayden is a blue-skinned mutant who has six arms and five legs.
And has anyone else caught the slimming ads on TV? "Get a slimmer looking tummy!" (Which, by the way, is ridiculous as promises go. Why should the tummy merely look slimmer? Maybe the pills must be accompanied by a violent inhalation of air to work. And even then only for as long as you can hold your breath.) Who do they have for endorsement? Fann Wong, Christopher Lee and Michelle Chong. Honestly, they couldn't have picked skinnier celebrities if they tried. These three look like they could use some weight gain medicine instead of slimming pills. If anything however, the trio's acting skills are really fantastic. Anyone who can start off skinny as chopsticks and say that they've lost soooo many inches off their waist with a straight face, on national TV, deserves an Oscar award. Hilary babe and Foxx, move over for the stars of Caldecott Hill. Maybe they'll have time to attend the ceremony when they're not busy shooting commercials and lying through their pretty little teeth.
If Channel 5 and Channel 8 are pay-to-view channels, I wonder how many Singaporeans will actually pay for them and support local "stars". Sometimes, I really think that their celebrity status is intricately engineered. This makes Mediacorp and SPH the next major social engineers after the gov-coff coff-'ment. Scary.
It would appear we are a nation which loves their celebrities. Little Brayden, being no more than 2 weeks old, has already received as much media coverage as the 2005 Budget. I have nothing against the tot, mind you, and neither am I a Zoe-hater. It's just that I find it unreasonable that her pregnancy should warrant so much attention. Even babies who belong to the exclusive 2.1 babies club that our government put on a pedestal don't receive so much attention. Neither do the first babies born on the Lunar and International New Year respectively grab so much limelight. From all the coverage he has received, you'd have thought that Brayden is a blue-skinned mutant who has six arms and five legs.
And has anyone else caught the slimming ads on TV? "Get a slimmer looking tummy!" (Which, by the way, is ridiculous as promises go. Why should the tummy merely look slimmer? Maybe the pills must be accompanied by a violent inhalation of air to work. And even then only for as long as you can hold your breath.) Who do they have for endorsement? Fann Wong, Christopher Lee and Michelle Chong. Honestly, they couldn't have picked skinnier celebrities if they tried. These three look like they could use some weight gain medicine instead of slimming pills. If anything however, the trio's acting skills are really fantastic. Anyone who can start off skinny as chopsticks and say that they've lost soooo many inches off their waist with a straight face, on national TV, deserves an Oscar award. Hilary babe and Foxx, move over for the stars of Caldecott Hill. Maybe they'll have time to attend the ceremony when they're not busy shooting commercials and lying through their pretty little teeth.
If Channel 5 and Channel 8 are pay-to-view channels, I wonder how many Singaporeans will actually pay for them and support local "stars". Sometimes, I really think that their celebrity status is intricately engineered. This makes Mediacorp and SPH the next major social engineers after the gov-coff coff-'ment. Scary.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, Trains and Kiasuism
Today, I was treated to a running commentary on a microcosm of Singapore's education system. It all began during English tutorial.
It all started during attendance taking for English tutorial rather. The tutor skipped my name, and being the easily purturbed type, I immediately attempted to inform him that he missed me out. (No, it's not that I have a constant craving for attention, and will therefore wilt if I am not noticed. Rather, this tutorial, held in the Arts campus, requires me to execute a mad dash across NUS. Since I risk life and limb to run pell mell down the stairs of SOC1 to catch the shuttle bus, I'll be damned if I let any one mark me absent.) The tutor immediately looked up and informed me that he already knows my name and face. With a half smile/smirk (smilrk), he further remarked that some of our test scripts were already graded. *smilrk smilrk* Now if you know about the debacle about the karaokers from hell, you'd know that I wasn't exactly brimming with confidence for the test. His remark therefore sent me into a tizzy. Does he know me because I am such a hansem boy? Or does he know me because my name is common? Or does he know me because he had an enjoyable few minutes grading my sorry script, while laughing his head off? Or does he know me because he realizes that I am a linguistic and historic genius, and thoroughly personified the axiom "the pen is mightier than the sword"? You get the picture. Combined with the fact that NUS loves to play with our brains, and make the common test week The Week for declaring satisfactory/ unsatisfactory option, these 30 words from the tutor caused about 300 scenarios ranging from doomsday to worldwide renown to flash through my brain. Declaring the option for this English module is definitely the safer thing to do- I am afterall a computing student in artsie's clothing.
How so? For example, when the topic of discussion (monologue is more appropriate perhaps) veered towards Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis and linguistic determinism, I immediately thought of how true that was in the coding world. In my opinion, one's coding language largely determines how one analyzes algorithms and large systems on the whole. C aficionados will think procedural and garbage collection, Java enthusiasts will think classes and objects, while VBScriptors will think drag and drop because they are lazy lazy lazy. In general, programmers will tend to think about problems and possible ways to tackle them in their preferred coding or "native" language. Those über gods will be able to switch effortlessly between many languages, and thus, gain a perspective that lesser humans like me will never possess. So who says Whorfism only pertains to English? Unfortunately, I can imagine the uproar this will cause had I volunteered this nugget of information in class. I will be labeled as G-E-E-K and forever relegated to The Uncool Graveyard, even if I don my most l33t t-shirt that proudly states that my 127.0.0.1 is the sweetest place on earth. Oh well, that's the way the code polymorphs I'm afraid. No one cares about computing people until some system crashes, or something apocalyptic happens. We're invisible until tragedy stikes.
So, back to being a computing student in artsie's clothing. I was considering whether or not to take a risk and continute reading this module as a graded one. Being a typical Singaporean afterall, I am kiasu, kiasee and kia-everything-including-CAP-drops. To take up modules from a different faculty and do well in them means you're well-rounded, well-read and blardy smart and intimidating. To take up modules from a totally different faculty and do badly in them means you are stupid, foolish and begging for academic suicide. Your CAP will plummet, friends will laugh, pat your back and think "One less contender for first class" and you will forever think back on how glorious your CAP would've been had you played it safe. Well, what about learning for learning's sake you ask? Grades are transcient afterall, while knowledge is eternal (until you get Alzeheimer's anyway). That is a very nice theory I say. It is best uttered by people who have been there and done that. It is something better savored in retrospect. Therefore, you'll excuse me while I be kiasu, kiasee and kia-everything-including-CAP-drops now and say that grades don't matter when I'm working in future.
On the train back, while mugging for tomorrow's biology test (which incidentally, sucks harder than a malnourished baby who's just tasted milk for the first time), I eavesdropped on the conversation of the lady next to me. Eavesdropped, that is, if you ignore the fact that she was loud enough for commuters on the next MRT to hear. She made 4 calls in total. 3 of them started with "Have you heard my daughter's disaster news?". You'd think that with such a drama-mama-papa-grandmama opening, her daughter has gotten herself knocked-up, expelled from school, mugged, swept away in a tsunami or kidnapped by terrorists. Nah... Rather, teachers from the primary school her daughter attends had recently finished grading English test scripts. The performance was dismal, and the teacher for her class announced the names of the two boys who failed, but withheld the identity of the girl who failed (talk about gender discrimination). Therefore, the young primary 5 girl is currently "scared to death" and "shivering at home". What's more, the lady almost gleefully retorted, "Class B had 2 failures, Class C had 3 failures, Class D had 16 failures, Class E had 17 failures and - it gets better- Class F had only 5 passes!". Why was she gleeful? Because she was going to "knock some sense into the teacher". She "cannot see the point of failing everyone across the grade", and told her daughter "that it's okay as long as she has tried her best". (Some murmurs ensue here about who the odious teacher is, but I missed it as the MRT lady announced Simei in her sepulchral tone.) That alone would have been amusing, and capable of striking a chord in me. The 4th call however, was to her daughter. Her conversation here was hilarious. Apparently, Mrs. Irately Kiasu has forgotten all about her best effort advice, and reverted back to the mother hen speech that went "Aiyo... like that how? I will talk to your teacher. They cannot do this to you all. It's very unfair to you. How can set such a difficult paper?" What a gem. Forget about best effort, daughter. Mother will hum dum your teacher for you. Show her my muscles. She'll move away to Peru to hide from my fury and wrath.
Honestly, are parents nowadays so concerned about grades that they lose sight of the fact that a primary 5 student will hardly become the Loser of the Singapore by failing one English test? (I told you this is easier said in retrospect, so get off my case and don't say "You also mah!?".) Are they naive enough to think that it's okay to fail because almost everybody else is failing? Many firms have no compunctions about weeding out weaker employees. If you are not one of those who make the cut, then it's goodbye for you. Rather than blaming the system or the teacher, they should challenge their children to rise up to the occasion. Don't expect the whole world to sympathise because you belong to a majority of losers. Nobody will. They will rejoice, and work harder to avoid being lumped together with losers. Get that, Ms. Irately Kiasu? This hansem boy must now go back to studying lest he faces the same prospect of failing his super sucky biology test.
It all started during attendance taking for English tutorial rather. The tutor skipped my name, and being the easily purturbed type, I immediately attempted to inform him that he missed me out. (No, it's not that I have a constant craving for attention, and will therefore wilt if I am not noticed. Rather, this tutorial, held in the Arts campus, requires me to execute a mad dash across NUS. Since I risk life and limb to run pell mell down the stairs of SOC1 to catch the shuttle bus, I'll be damned if I let any one mark me absent.) The tutor immediately looked up and informed me that he already knows my name and face. With a half smile/smirk (smilrk), he further remarked that some of our test scripts were already graded. *smilrk smilrk* Now if you know about the debacle about the karaokers from hell, you'd know that I wasn't exactly brimming with confidence for the test. His remark therefore sent me into a tizzy. Does he know me because I am such a hansem boy? Or does he know me because my name is common? Or does he know me because he had an enjoyable few minutes grading my sorry script, while laughing his head off? Or does he know me because he realizes that I am a linguistic and historic genius, and thoroughly personified the axiom "the pen is mightier than the sword"? You get the picture. Combined with the fact that NUS loves to play with our brains, and make the common test week The Week for declaring satisfactory/ unsatisfactory option, these 30 words from the tutor caused about 300 scenarios ranging from doomsday to worldwide renown to flash through my brain. Declaring the option for this English module is definitely the safer thing to do- I am afterall a computing student in artsie's clothing.
How so? For example, when the topic of discussion (monologue is more appropriate perhaps) veered towards Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis and linguistic determinism, I immediately thought of how true that was in the coding world. In my opinion, one's coding language largely determines how one analyzes algorithms and large systems on the whole. C aficionados will think procedural and garbage collection, Java enthusiasts will think classes and objects, while VBScriptors will think drag and drop because they are lazy lazy lazy. In general, programmers will tend to think about problems and possible ways to tackle them in their preferred coding or "native" language. Those über gods will be able to switch effortlessly between many languages, and thus, gain a perspective that lesser humans like me will never possess. So who says Whorfism only pertains to English? Unfortunately, I can imagine the uproar this will cause had I volunteered this nugget of information in class. I will be labeled as G-E-E-K and forever relegated to The Uncool Graveyard, even if I don my most l33t t-shirt that proudly states that my 127.0.0.1 is the sweetest place on earth. Oh well, that's the way the code polymorphs I'm afraid. No one cares about computing people until some system crashes, or something apocalyptic happens. We're invisible until tragedy stikes.
So, back to being a computing student in artsie's clothing. I was considering whether or not to take a risk and continute reading this module as a graded one. Being a typical Singaporean afterall, I am kiasu, kiasee and kia-everything-including-CAP-drops. To take up modules from a different faculty and do well in them means you're well-rounded, well-read and blardy smart and intimidating. To take up modules from a totally different faculty and do badly in them means you are stupid, foolish and begging for academic suicide. Your CAP will plummet, friends will laugh, pat your back and think "One less contender for first class" and you will forever think back on how glorious your CAP would've been had you played it safe. Well, what about learning for learning's sake you ask? Grades are transcient afterall, while knowledge is eternal (until you get Alzeheimer's anyway). That is a very nice theory I say. It is best uttered by people who have been there and done that. It is something better savored in retrospect. Therefore, you'll excuse me while I be kiasu, kiasee and kia-everything-including-CAP-drops now and say that grades don't matter when I'm working in future.
On the train back, while mugging for tomorrow's biology test (which incidentally, sucks harder than a malnourished baby who's just tasted milk for the first time), I eavesdropped on the conversation of the lady next to me. Eavesdropped, that is, if you ignore the fact that she was loud enough for commuters on the next MRT to hear. She made 4 calls in total. 3 of them started with "Have you heard my daughter's disaster news?". You'd think that with such a drama-mama-papa-grandmama opening, her daughter has gotten herself knocked-up, expelled from school, mugged, swept away in a tsunami or kidnapped by terrorists. Nah... Rather, teachers from the primary school her daughter attends had recently finished grading English test scripts. The performance was dismal, and the teacher for her class announced the names of the two boys who failed, but withheld the identity of the girl who failed (talk about gender discrimination). Therefore, the young primary 5 girl is currently "scared to death" and "shivering at home". What's more, the lady almost gleefully retorted, "Class B had 2 failures, Class C had 3 failures, Class D had 16 failures, Class E had 17 failures and - it gets better- Class F had only 5 passes!". Why was she gleeful? Because she was going to "knock some sense into the teacher". She "cannot see the point of failing everyone across the grade", and told her daughter "that it's okay as long as she has tried her best". (Some murmurs ensue here about who the odious teacher is, but I missed it as the MRT lady announced Simei in her sepulchral tone.) That alone would have been amusing, and capable of striking a chord in me. The 4th call however, was to her daughter. Her conversation here was hilarious. Apparently, Mrs. Irately Kiasu has forgotten all about her best effort advice, and reverted back to the mother hen speech that went "Aiyo... like that how? I will talk to your teacher. They cannot do this to you all. It's very unfair to you. How can set such a difficult paper?" What a gem. Forget about best effort, daughter. Mother will hum dum your teacher for you. Show her my muscles. She'll move away to Peru to hide from my fury and wrath.
Honestly, are parents nowadays so concerned about grades that they lose sight of the fact that a primary 5 student will hardly become the Loser of the Singapore by failing one English test? (I told you this is easier said in retrospect, so get off my case and don't say "You also mah!?".) Are they naive enough to think that it's okay to fail because almost everybody else is failing? Many firms have no compunctions about weeding out weaker employees. If you are not one of those who make the cut, then it's goodbye for you. Rather than blaming the system or the teacher, they should challenge their children to rise up to the occasion. Don't expect the whole world to sympathise because you belong to a majority of losers. Nobody will. They will rejoice, and work harder to avoid being lumped together with losers. Get that, Ms. Irately Kiasu? This hansem boy must now go back to studying lest he faces the same prospect of failing his super sucky biology test.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
On Religion and Society
The problem with most religions, is that they are non-exclusive with other religions. You cannot have faith in one religion, and claim that another is just as right or acceptable. The tenets of faith where applied to religions is non-negotiable in that sense. It is in this that religions like Christianity get lombarded with accusations of arrogance, because its self-definition is to the exclusion of all others. Believers of "tolerant" religions like Buddhism sometimes too, regard believers of other faiths with derision, nevermind that it could be against their faith to do so.
This context makes intelligent and informed discourse of theology and religion difficult to accomplish in a multiracial society. Some will feel that religious views should not be allowed in a public debate, because they hold no weight to non-believers. Others will feel that they have a right to express the concerns of their faith in light of new public debates like the construction of a casino, because the society must afterall solicit all views of citizens in order to be democratic or fair. Yet others feel that it is the mark of a "mature society" to be able to openly hold discussions on religious and race (Hullo, Jamie!), while others vehemently state that "Maturity does not depend on being able to say whatever one wants. It is measured by knowing how to say it, when to say it and who to say it to."
These issues, to me, have no hope of resolve. Like the very context of religion, each view is non-exclusive to another, and possess no grounds of negotiations. Does this mean that we are forever doomed to be an immature nation? I don't really think so. I believe that being able to debate on whether to allow discussions on human constructs like race and religion is the mark of a mature nation. Surely a less mature society will be more concerned with fiscal, economic orimmediate issues? Indonesians are rioting over fuel hikes. Iraqis are struggling to survive. Singaporeans are wondering whether they should talk about religion and race. If this is not the mark of a mature nation, it certainly is the mark of one that is taking the first step to being mature, regardless of the outcome of the debate.
This context makes intelligent and informed discourse of theology and religion difficult to accomplish in a multiracial society. Some will feel that religious views should not be allowed in a public debate, because they hold no weight to non-believers. Others will feel that they have a right to express the concerns of their faith in light of new public debates like the construction of a casino, because the society must afterall solicit all views of citizens in order to be democratic or fair. Yet others feel that it is the mark of a "mature society" to be able to openly hold discussions on religious and race (Hullo, Jamie!), while others vehemently state that "Maturity does not depend on being able to say whatever one wants. It is measured by knowing how to say it, when to say it and who to say it to."
These issues, to me, have no hope of resolve. Like the very context of religion, each view is non-exclusive to another, and possess no grounds of negotiations. Does this mean that we are forever doomed to be an immature nation? I don't really think so. I believe that being able to debate on whether to allow discussions on human constructs like race and religion is the mark of a mature nation. Surely a less mature society will be more concerned with fiscal, economic orimmediate issues? Indonesians are rioting over fuel hikes. Iraqis are struggling to survive. Singaporeans are wondering whether they should talk about religion and race. If this is not the mark of a mature nation, it certainly is the mark of one that is taking the first step to being mature, regardless of the outcome of the debate.