Hello, I'm back. Sorry for the extremely long break from the blog, but post-exam academic matters have been overwhelming me. Project Work, Olympiads and all that stuff. Oh, and the next part of the story will be out some time later this week if the internet connection allows it to be posted anyway. While we are waiting for that, let me just inform you that the previous blog was a rather scientific joke. If you aren't aware of it by now, DHMO, i.e. 2 parts hydrogen, one part oxygen, happens to be water. And hope it did not cause wide spread panic.
Also, I collected all 95 Biennale badges. Like that is a remarkable achievement. I know I can exchange it for a nice TV or something, but 95 badges look nicer on my room wall than a large TV or surround system. But then again, entertainment does have its limits. So does aesthetic value. Now, I should get some nice Biennale masking tape and stick those all over my bed and that unsightful scratch on my laptop. Speaking of which, I'm not blogging on my laptop now, because of the bad wireless internet connection. So, I'm in the computer room. Not the most private of places but I don't blog privately anyway.
You notice i'm jumping from topic to topic, and that is because I'm trying to cover as much issues as i can in a short period of time. No well thought out humour here, unless it is unintentional which seldom occurs on normal blogs. Lastly, and most important issue i must cover now is the idea of privacy which i somehow reached in the last paragraph.
This is in fact an issue of national, if not global importance. I just read somewhere (is it "Time"?) that there is an irony in the online world. When we are writing, typing or just joining some group or the other online, we do not hesitate to reveal our most personal and deepest information, sometimes to the extent of writing personal secrets on blogs, which I don't do, of course. Partially because i refuse to allow my blog to become a place i rant and rave about how miserable life is (don't panic, this is just a figure of speech), and also because there are more humourous stuff to talk about, like "matters of national importance". About the matter of privacy, people just don't realise that anyone, literally any Tom, Dick and Harry, can read about you. Is that what we really want? Why are we then so reluctant to speak openly about ourselves in public when writing about this online is a technical equivalent？
I just checked the Internet and I found out that rumours had been going around that there is this new chemical called dihydogen monoxide in everything that we know, and it is potentially harmful. Here's the article I found...
Ban Dihydrogen Monoxide! The Invisible Killer
Dihydrogen monoxide is colorless, odorless, tasteless, and kills uncounted thousands of people every year. Most of these deaths are caused by accidental inhalation of DHMO, but the dangers of dihydrogen monoxide do not end there. Prolonged exposure to its solid form causes severe tissue damage. Symptoms of DHMO ingestion can include excessive sweating and urination, and possibly a bloated feeling, nausea, vomiting and body electrolyte imbalance. For those who have become dependent, DHMO withdrawal means certain death.
Dihydrogen monoxide:
is also known as hydric acid, and is the major component of acid rain.
contributes to the "greenhouse effect."
may cause severe burns.
contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape.
accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals.
may cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.
has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients.
CONTAMINATION IS REACHING EPIDEMIC PROPORTIONS!
Quantities of dihydrogen monoxide have been found in almost every stream, lake, and reservoir in America today. The pollution is global, and the contaminant has even been found in Antarctic ice. In the midwest alone DHMO has caused millions of dollars of property damage.
Despite the danger, dihydrogen monoxide is often used:
as an industrial solvent and coolant.
in nuclear power plants.
in the production of styrofoam.
as a fire retardant.
in many forms of cruel animal research.
in the distribution of pesticides. Even after washing, produce remains contaminated by this chemical.
as an additive in certain "junk-foods" and other food products.
Companies dump waste DHMO into rivers and the ocean, and nothing can be done to stop them because this practice is still legal. The impact on wildlife is extreme, and we cannot afford to ignore it any longer!
THE HORROR MUST BE STOPPED!
The American government has refused to ban the production, distribution, or use of this damaging chemical due to its "importance to the economic health of this nation." In fact, the navy and other military organizations are conducting experiments with DHMO, and designing multi-billion dollar devices to control and utilize it during warfare situations. Hundreds of military research facilities receive tons of it through a highly sophisticated underground distribution network. Many store large quantities for later use.
IT'S NOT TOO LATE!
Act NOW to prevent further contamination. Find out more about this dangerous chemical. What you don't know can hurt you and others throughout the world.
Sometimes, I fear for the future of blogs like this, because other than pretending to be non-persistently political they require some time to mature to a normal blog, and not the whims and fancies of some deranged guy with nothing better to do, or someone who likes to read what he writes countless times online. Also, the effort put in to maintain matters that actually interest the reader rather than personal affairs and recounts that becomes rumours once spread online is not minute.
So, it's back to square one as I find myself once again in the dilemma of finding time to think what to write in my latest blog entry and actually writing it out and also actually edit it, and read it myself to see if i sound like some blabbering fool, which i do every once in a while. I can't complain though, it is the best i can do while trying to figure out what good life actually is, and trying to determine whether work is more important than play or vice versa. While censorship here is only practised as often as I go to Clarke Quay, things here are actually really random thoughts that the mind spits out and nowhere near being politically correct or self-preserving. But, it is the humour derived from there that I truly value. Time was truly of the essence as in the first phase in May, all that blah-blahing had to stop because of time constraints, and now i start again, only to find myself wasting time yakking.
But, this time, the time is plentiful and more relaxed so i'm not under pressure to refrain from writing overly long blogs, but once life picks up again, expect less and shorter blogs, but still strangely political and oddly witty. Now that I'm done with my confession, life will go on for me, just pray that i will continue blogging for our entertainment pleasure...
More strange words and definitions coming your way...
Studyphilephile - One who loves studyphiles. From "studyphile" (see part 1) and "-phile" meaning love to the extent that you must declare it". A studyphile's word for inter-studyphile relationships, a most daunting thing because love is mostly painful, and obviously distracting for those who are studying. Studyphilephiles may be studyphiles themselves, not neccesarily so, but that is usually the case because only studyphiles use this word. It is applicable for both same sex and opposite sex relationship, as long as there is a mutual force between them. Non-studyphiles just call it love. Hip people call it normal.
Foreign Talent - Term referring to the more intelligent people who are not natives of a tropical island in the sun in the South China Sea, which is slightly bigger than a little red dot. The local admistration, a high ranking group of people known as the "gahment" countrols this state and encourage them to make the already high average IQ of the island even higher so that one day, it will rule the world, or not. So, these people are coveted by the "gahment" as they are better than the average native and takes the initiative to convert them to the religion of meritocracy, a most demanding religion that requires you to outdo everyone else so that the GOD aka MERIT SYSTEM will shower you with blessings. The other natives hate it while the others rejoice.
See also, meritocracy, kiasu
Meritocracy - The most demanding religion in the world and citizens of countries which declare this their national religion are automatically converted to this religion by the authorities. Fortunately, dual-religionship is allowed but the non-meritocratic religion is considered secondary and unimportant as it is to occupied with abstract matters. Basically, only the most pious devotees of the GOD aka MERIT SYSTEM will be blessed by Him by getting the best opportunities, money and a good life while those who lack the willpower will just fade away into a lifetime sentence of pain, poverty and suffering. But, there is no mention of an afterlife. How ever daunting this is, people still hold strongly to its principles and refuse to give as they climb the ladder to heaven to become one with the SYSTEM. This leads to a new philosophy in this religion known as kiasu which has been adapted by most devotees. The system also protects those who are able bodied while those who fall behind, fall even further. See also, kiasu
Kiasu - Scared to lose in Hokkien. In english, it is known by another name, a -phobia which is too long to pronounce. The result of the meritocracy religion which is widespread in certain countries. While devotees also try to reach the top and not fall back to become one with the GOD, they have become heartless and Machiavellian human beings who are willing to do anything, because of the fear of losing. This leads to widespread sabotage, manipulation and other vice which are too henious to mention. the motivation is the gifts that the GOD will present to them when they have achieved oneness. Others just die off as insignificant human beings. This great lifelong aim as inculcated kiasuism in the souls of the people and they devote themselves to the GOD.
The Misdictionary is a collection of words, phrases and statements which have other interesting definitions other than the conventional definition given in standard, boring and unhumourous dictionaries.
studyphile - A compliment/insult for people whom they believe love to study. From"study-" meaning walking around explicitly with a reference textbook and pretending and/or trying to understand what is being said and "-phile" meaning "love to the extent that you are dying to show people how much you love it". Usually a high-standard word used by studyphiles to address people of their own race. Non-studyphiles call studyphiles muggers. See also mugger
mugger - Basically the same as a studyphile, only difference is, everyone else uses it. Usually confused with robbers who hold you at gunpoint and extort or people who go around selling cups. Also wrongly used interchangably with people who are extremely intelligent and do not need to study. Everyone's a mugger at one point in time but strangely, they don't notice they are mugging. Only used whenl one notices someone else is studying when one isn't.
hip - Normally, hip is taken to be the certain part of the body between the groin and the abdomen which has a very large bone that allows you to use a hula hoop, squat, brag about, knock people aside and shake that thing. when used in a different context, hip can also be used to describe a person with extremely exposed portions of the body, trendy, frequents orchard road, loves bars and clubs, has really strange hair colour and a very thin wallet, but a mouth that can launch a thousand ships and transfer the launch payment to her boyfriend without any effort. In looser context, simply used to describe any girl that turns you on at first look, and describing places where these strange female creatures hang out. Can also being used to describe a very entertaining bedmate.
love- a unexplainable strange phenomena that drags two difffernt human beings together so strongly that any attempt to seperate them will encounter total rejection and insult. once the distance between them has decreased to a magnitude small enough to be negligible, its power will disperse and at first a repulsive force will form between them. Other previously rejected bodies and new ones will approach the repulsive force, causing the two old bodies to spontanenously combust and cause catastrophe. Usually, just defined as mostly painful.
This happens to be Clarke Quay, a wonderfully happening place by the banks of the Singapore River. Here lies the highest concentration of hip things, bars, beers, upper class restaurants and ang mohs in the whole of Singapore, but some may dispute that there are more hipper things in Geylang massage parlours. Clarke Quay was an accidental destination in tonight's Biennale adventure because all human being are attracted to hippy things and Geylang is just too far away and there are girls in the group. Not that I find Geylang overly exciting, just a good subject of humour.
So, after seeing a few drunk men attempting to jump into the river and watching women walk by with one inch of makeup and listening to overly loud music and screens with dirty jokes flash by, I'm truly convinced that Clarke Quay is dangerously hip and painfully exhilarating. Did i mention that the things there are so expensive that any wallet, no matter how expansive it is, always tends to go on a diet that is more fatal that actress Andreas' liver failure from slimming products.
It is also a rare event that I detour to places like Clarke Quay because i don't like places with drunk highclass men and flashing laser lights. But the daytime is nicer without the constant throng of hip things and beer. I don't drink beer and i don't fancy the hip and fanciful. And, I heard that one can be fatally hip. This could either mean that one is so hip that outrage of modesty is surely imminent and rape is justified, or others just faint from the provocation and a mirror will make you dizzy, as a result of sheer hipness. For your info, CQ is a hip name for this place and only hip people use it. The not-so-hip Ah Bengs call it Clerk Ku-eh and the unhip layman just doesn't mention it because it because they agree that the place doesn't appear on any map. Geylang does though, strangely, because "80% of married people drive home after sex" (as seen in Clarke Quay). Heck, I don't care if Monica Lewinsky's cheeks are puffed up when she tried to hide her crime from Hillary, bu hip jokes are not my kind and hip methods to wind up blog entries are too boring. so, plainly saying now, goodbye
It's strange but sometimes you wonder how probability works. On my room window, I wrote a short text on my views on probability, an old indulgence and back then, I didn't have a whiteboard to scribble my thoughts on. Anyway, I never got around to cleaning it up and it has been there for a few months. However, just two days ago that particular window was broken by some smart aleck who kicks a soccer ball at high speeds towards windows. My issue is not that such activities isn't justified as a post-exam hobby and i really don't mind people breaking my room windows, but the surprising fact that the broken window is the one with the probabily script on it. Now, the irony is that out of the so many windows in the hostel, that particular one had to be broken. It was interesting noting that and how small the chance of that happening and strange chance that it was about probability. But then again, it's not everyday a metal girdle kills you by falling on your car when you are driving past, the traffic fines for speeding is lowered or yourself getting killed and fined at the same time because of speeding.
It's also strange but sometimes you wonder why some people fail to think properly at certain times. For instance, what was that guy thinking when he pushed that lady off the platform onto the MRT tracks at either Clementi or Jurong. Or, what was the Indonesian minister thinking when he said that Malaysia and Singapore should thank Indonesia for the oxygen its forests supply and stop complaning about the haze. And, what was everyone thinking when no one said anything about the introduction of NEWater in the water supply simply because an increase in fares were far, far more important than having to drink recycled sewage water. And what was I thinking when I was complaining about pheromones, when there were monkeys in courtrooms in City Hall and books burning in the National Library during the Biennale.
I feel that I should put more pictures in my blog entries, because, well, pictures do speak a thousand words and typing words takes time and time is of the essence in life. So, here I am, trying to figure out ways to use pictures in blog entries. But, of course, there are some things in this world that doesn't need stating. For instance, this is a bus...
Yes, I'm sure most of you figured out already that this is a bus. Also, what you don't need to know is that people, like me, ride on buses. However, what you need to know is that i don't ride on buses just for the sake of getting from point A to point B in the longe.. i mean, shortest time possible. I also do this...
In case you were wondering, I am not as perverse as to up buses naked and sit on a chair to pose like a statue. It also does not imply that I go anywhere naked or sit on buses with silly poses. In actual fact, which I hope you are decent enough to figure out for yourself, is that I contemplate and look for inspiration while I go for bus rides. The statue, incidentally, is called "The Thinker" not "Naked Man Posing on Seat". We've gone quite far from the point here, though so let's go back to the subject. Since the essence of art can be seen almost practically anywhere in Singapore, it isn't too hard to get ideas for slogans, designs and anyhing else, which is kind of hard to get from staring blankly at walls in the room. So, that's it for now, while i try to find some more entertaining photos that doesn't imply nudity or something like that...
It's getting painfully more tedious to write this story, as it is sad to see one of the characters fade into the background, and marking the imminent end to the story. Another cliffhanger marks the end of the paragraph and I promise, it won't be long now...
Times were good in this land, as we all knew that our days together would be long and enjoyable. However, no one dare said that this relationship that we had would last forever because we all knew that the day will come when I had to choose between one of them when the mists of uncertainty that clouded my adolescent life evaporates, replaced by firmness, solidarity and security. But no one dared said a word, for it was in all probability that it would come, but when? That was the burning silent question we all had. Hence, we took the years, day by day, enjoying each one to the fullest, knowing the next one could be our last together. The dark cloud that loomed for the longest time was gathering strength, slowly but surely, but we knew, when it rains, it pours…
While I'm still in the mood to discuss about the Singapore Biennale due to that overdose, (I'm still trying to convince myself that pheromones are suppose to have this effect), I'll revisit some of the stranger encounters I've had yesterday at that unpronounceable event.
I think installation art is interesting because the context it is placed in is often simply more appropriate than well a questionably interesting portrait of a long dead woman hanging on wall full of controversy due to a bestselling novel. And, that is exactly what the Biennale is full of. Nicely placed "things" in courtrooms, offices, wards and what nots which observers can walk through and explore. For instance, an aquarium you can put your head through in the middle to feel what it is like to be in a fishbowl. How about courtroom offices that have been turned into mad scientists' lab? Not forgetting a spaceship-like object that has been placed in the middle of a musuem exhibit hall with lasers pointing all over the place. These and many others have truly made my day at the Biennale yesterday. The pheromones were just a consolation, though, but in all still overly hilarious.
So, while Project Work Day is still ongoing and slowly killing the excitement I've had yesterday, I'll just indulge myself in blogging. That's all for now...
"On Sunday 9 July, He entered the City Hall building. He filled its interior with pheromones"
- As seen on the front door of City Hall-
Now, for those people who don't know what pheromones are, well, I'm sure defining "Biennale" isn't going to be any easier. Well, "Biennale" is the most mispronounced and unpronounceable event of the year in the region. Pheromone is a certain type of chemical that is supposed to attract ordinary citizens to unpronounceable contemporary art events. A Biennale is a funky event that happens every once in while in cultural hubs around the world. Pheromones are supposed to make you euphoric while viewing art.
Just kidding. I'm serious now. A Biennale is an unpronounceable contemporary art event that is supposed to be organised once every two years in an exciting cultural hub somewhere is the modern world that showcases international artists' work which are sometimes overly disturbing and strangely stimulating. Pheromones are totally unrelated to art, as it is a particular type of hormone that is supposed to attract members of the opposite sex to you, which is, as I said, totally inartistic, unless some obscure scientific research paper proved that it also attracts humans to art. Possibly the rationale for that strange sign on the door.
After spending an entire day at the biennale, some things just don't seem right to you anymore. For instance, a sign on a door suddenly seem to be awfully curious and suspiciously implying something, like perhaps a ruse using biochemical to attract humans to artworks. There are countless other examples which I do not have time to name. Just a penny for your thought, when was the last time you watched a horror movie? Let me tell you, Biennale tickets are going cheaper than any movie ticket, and you don't have to queue and you can watch it countless times, if you are not too nauseated. Oh, and don't bring children along, because, one, they don't appreciate art and, two, they might suffer from insomnia for the rest of their lives, and, three, you might find yourself explaining what pheromones are.
While I'm still quite dazed from the day's events and sightings (which could be said to be more traumatizing than an alien abduction), certain judgements of quality are also suspended. For example, the quality of humour derived from pheromones. Therefore, excuse me now, as I have to figure out the effects that all that chemical have on my nervous system...
This blog entry is regarding issues of much importance, pressing matters that must be dealt with urgently...
This is a PRESSing issue. The irons in the hostel are too light to iron clothes with. I mean they are so light, that my laptop outweights it. Really. Now that's imPRESSive. I think my laptop can be used to iron a shirt if i leave it switched on for 24 hours and carry it over to the laundry room.
Here's another PRESSing issue. Due to the increased amount of dense carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, meteorologists have noticed that the attmospheric pressure have increased significantly in the past decade. Also, economists have pointed out that the demand of carbon dioxide and the plant kingdom have dropped so low in the past years that this commodity is practically free. Governments around the world have demanded that the IMF allow government intervention in the plants' market to stabilise the price of carbon dioxide, while meteorologists disagree, stating that the intervention will cause the price of carbon dioxide to rise and hence increase atmospheric pressure. They're supported by the psychologists who agree that humans are under enough PRESSure already.
And yet another PRESSing issue. While economists are arguing whether carbon dioxide should be made a public good, port authorities are busy tackling another PRESSing issue, pier pressure. As the number of ships around the world are increasing exponentially , port workers are suffering from pier pressure as they can no longer stand the large number of workload they are given already, in addition to the competition they face from workers of other maritime companies. Instead of bringing work back home, they have been forced to bring their home to work. Yes, they have been bringing their wives and children to help them during work. Psychiatrists believe this will lead to a high number suicide cases in maritime nations. In fact, pier pressure is the main reason for suicide in some countries.
Disclaimer : This edition of mostly pressing issues is mostly untrue. It is meant to be a filler between blogs for those people who only read politically correct stuff.
This is the third part of the story I have written. I must apologise as this once ends in a real cliffhanger and I haven't gotten around to writing out the next part. So the next part should be out next weekend earliest. So, in the meantime, just enjoy the shorter and less exciting blog entries in the middle, which I promise would be as interesting as the previous ones. So, here's the third part...
Earnest, however was less of a social person, as he prefers to be more reserved than to talk. Sometimes, he becomes overly taciturn and quiet, especially when there is something important bothering his mind. Mostly shy, he likes hiding behind the curtains to think and analyse every single aspect of a situation before acting on an educated decision. He is also overly studious, intelligent and a very good source of information whenever I am in need of it. Those little tidbits of information have helped me greatly in life, but what most people, including myself, cannot stand is his sarcasm and rudeness when approached the wrong time.
So, we lived together under the same roof, sharing bittersweet memories, be it in work and play. But, the most memorable times were when we walked along the River, enjoying the many sights and sounds of the city, and people milling by, not bothered at all by our presence and the topics of our heart-to-heart conversations while enjoying the diamond-like sparkles of sunlight that was reflected off the surface of the River’s water. We leave the real world behind us when we enter the separate dimension that engulfs us when we take those long and solitary walks by the River. This self-invented paradise would, however, later be the scene of the greatest conflict that all of us will encounter in our friendship.
Eh, I hope you enjoy the two posts on Singrish. Sorry, I got too carried away. So, let me say this again. I hope that you had a good laugh from the last two posts that was meant to make us realise how strange Singlish, or Manglish for that matter, look in written form. I'm sure others have done this before and I'm not the first. But, I included the irony that I discussed matters concerning Singlish in Singlish. So, I hope you had fun, and in this blog entry, as the name suggests, we are still in the matter of language.
At the end of the blog, I noted that the native tongue in a country is especially important, as it is supposedly a national identity for a country, and one isn't a true citizen of a country until he/she is well acquainted with the identity. However, Singapore is a multi-racial country with people of many backgrounds speaking different languages. Hence, the four national languages, Malay, English, Chinese and Tamil. However, these are not shared in common by every citizen of the country, except perhaps English which everyone is supposed to know. But then again, the common English is not the English of the "Native Tongue" or Queen's English, as we affectionately call it. It is a corrupted lingo, with dozens of borrowed words from Malay, Hokkien and many other Chinese dialects, bad grammar, totally inverted sentence structures, short forms and weird pronunciations, known as Singlish, shortened form for Singaporean English. The paradox here is that when we are encouraged to speak the "Native Tongue", well, we notice that we are natives of Singapore (I hope you don't get pictures of some strange Polynesians natives inhabiting some isolated tropical island in the Pacific Ocean). So, what do the natives here speak commonly? Singlish, of course.
Frankly, as a person who can speak impeccable English at one time and change to the worst English you ever heard at another time, I don't bear any grudge against Singlish or any move to eradicate it, but I have a certain bond to it has the informal tongue that will change any tense situation to something less formal and sometimes hilarious. Also, it's something we grow up with since we children. We spoke to our friends, parents and neighbours in this tongue, why not keep it. This love that we have makes us hold Singlish close to our hearts.
However, we do need to have a command of the Queen's English. More about this in my later blog entries, so bye for now...
So-ah, as I was saying, we all brought up talking like this, all the engrish all wrong oledi. So how now? Gahment wan us to stop talking Singrish, but everyone dunno what to talk oledi. We natural open mouth got all the -lah, -meh, -mah and all, how to change? If we anyhow talk engrish, the gahment don't like, say we are globalised nation oledi, must talk like the rest of the world. Eh, something veli wrong-lah. The rest the world also talk engrish one kind, the french got their oo-la-la, the american ain't here, ain't there, British got the funny slang oso what.
This one not enough, want us to talk good engrish not enough, some more must have good manner. Singapoh people where got time to talk nice-nice with people, other people understand enough oledi what? Please-lah, we all-ah, sit down at the coffee shop, the guy come, give drink, we pay, never say thank you, he never scold oso? Dunno why the gahment siow-siow wan us to say preeze, thank you and soli. Normally, no one make noise, suudenly wan to make noise. Veli funny lah!
So, now I write blog in Singrish as a way to plomote the wonder of singrish to the world, see they can understand or not. If they dun understand, nevermind. They come to singapoh. they see us talk like this, they think singapoh-lang very clever, talk english oso got style, then they wan to learn. Good what. It is the Singapoh identity. Gahment oso happy, everyone happy. See, so why not speak Singlish?
Eh, you know-ah, all this while, i blog in Engrish like the ang moh, no mistake wan, and evry time try so hard to see if got make mistake or not. I tell you-ah, writing like that veli hard-leh. So, this time, i try my best to blog in the baddest engrish i know, see you can understand or not. I know not easy to read when the glammar write until like this.
In singapoh, the gahment wan the people to talk like ang moh when the imf people come for meeting. Yalah, some more must smile at them like we love them only. You think veli easy-ah? Got people so much time go smile-meh? The gahment oso got the "speak good engrish" campaign, they say must not talk rojak engrish, or like the pck talk, and some more cannot pray-pray. They oso say-ah if you talk good engrish, you can be understooded in Singapoh, JB and some say Batam. Eh, the people there engrish oso very jia-lat. Where got good oso? The Malaysia got Manglish, and the Indon talk oso one kind.
I just thought-ah, if like this-ah, the people in Singapoh with the good engrish oni left the foreign talent and some even say the Philipino maid. You say they talk very powderful engrish until you cannot understand, but the gahment still say they talk veli good. So how now? Must learn flom them-ah. In school-leh? The teacher all must talk like ang moh, izzit? If our children all force to talk like that-ah, afterward we all talk, the singapoh-lang cannot understand, how? Very susah leh like this. Then, got generation gap, how to talk...
Here are those photos I promised earlier of the droplets of water at the fountains in Sentosa. It nice to see the water droplet which are not exaactly circular take random forms in mid air. So, sit back and enjoy the pictures. Oh, I was told the first one looks like a fish, how symbolic!
Let's start this blog in retrospect. In celebration of my 10th blog entry, not that it's a remarkable achievement or a great milestone that calls for the need of an islandwide celebration (did i mention i am living in Singapore?), we will celebrate the wonderful existence of blogs in this great and wonderful world.
Well, we all know about the freedom of expression as a basic human right such that it is wrong to gag and bag someone who speaks openly about somethings we all do not like to hear in public, which happens anyway in the world because it is supposed to be illegal to condone your own government, its policies, politics etc. And , so we now speak of freedom with boundaries or limited freedom. Frankly, i say it's an oxymoron, but blogging is indeed a way out as the internet is a virtual world where governments are NOT supposed to exist, when in actual fact do, and carefully monitoring what we write. Well, some are deceived in their naivity and write objectionable materials such as things that are "persistently political" (as stipulated by the government) or against a certain Sedition Act or the other. So we all try to be persistently non-political or non-persistently political, or somewhere in the middle or pretend fulfill one of the three. You can't really deprive us of the laugh we get from ridiculing politics.
Anyway, now with the emergence of podcasts and what nots, blogging or casting is becoming increasingly interesting as we bring freedom of expression up one level. Yes, as we celebrate all the fun thing we read or hear online from the ordinary citizen in a country, disregarding warnings from the government and all that, we find ourselves in awe of what we write and our sense of humour, unbounded by law. Leaving you on this sweet note for now...
Welcome to the second part of the story, a dedication to my loved ones who are constantly reading the blog and to my friends, especially Michelle in Seremban. Here we go as i reveal the first of my companions... (did i mention that the story is semi-fictional?)
"Who were they? They appeared to me as I was looking for a source of inspiration in life to face the challenges ahead. They were not strangers, as at the very moment I met them, I knew their personalities all too well. They were an inseparable couple, and they admitted that they were also already well acquainted with my lifestyle, habits and idiosyncrasies. They personally admitted that they had never strayed too far from the paths I had taken in my lifetime and quietly supported me from behind. Therefore, no formal introduction was needed before we headed off into the unknown together.
My newfound companions names were Frank and Earnest. Despite their diametrically different principles, the three of us stuck together like glue. Frank is an outspoken chap, with thousands of jokes in his inventory and always looking something fun to do. However, frequently, I fear that his motivation to live life to the fullest would always evolve to foolhardiness. I always find it extremely hard to pull him back from hurting or offending someone else’s feelings in public for the sake of personal fun and when it goes overboard, I always end up having the apologise profusely for my dear friend’s behaviour. Besides being outspoken, Frank also had the enthusiasm to learn something new, a certain motivation which many people lack. I am forever indebted to him as he was a great source of entertainment in my life..."
Cameras are really dangerous objects, you know. It's not that people misuse them to catch other people doing something dishonest, or part of jokes regarding bak chor mee stall man and ter kwa (pig liver) or just as a source of entertainment by putting videos of, well, things that are done within the walls of one's own bedroom on the net. (note: I condone only the latter and nude squats too, just for your info).
I don't hate cameras or any other digital recording devices, in fact, i must thank cameras for its capabilities of recording the more memorable events in life that disappears in computers that crash and missing thumb drives. And also for all those exciting TV advertisement that feature tennis players that whack balls onto walls to spell her name. It's just interesting, not hilarious, so yeah, i'm not exactly a camera fan.
So anyway, I just read that photography provokes animals. I mean, the Singapore Night Safari is becoming a dangerous place because illiterate tourists do not know how to read signs that reads no flash photography allowed. Either this or they are placed in an obscure corner of the trail that no one cares to look while the authorities can still maintain that the visitors are informed but simply too ignorant to read or remember, but just take note that reading preceeds remembering or reminding, if you get what i mean.
Crikey! I just remembered that Steve Irwin was killed while filming a stingray, with a camera, of course. Not that it has a flash, but it wasn't dark anyway. Once we get comfortable with the fact that how he died was just an accident, i am sure that those people who were or will be injured by charging rhinos due to flash photography in the night safari will all just be an accident until a zoo staff gets hurt due to their fault, which happened yesterday, so remember, people, flash photography is fine, until someone (most of the time, someone else) gets hurt.
Oh, and flash photoghaphy is good when you want to sabotage someone while he is speaking in public, because it is supposed to be distracting. Seriously, but you will get quite a mouthful later, if the speaker isn't too dazed, but i won't gurantee that both parties will make it out physically intact. The speaker might fall of the stage after the flash, and you... you know how.
That's a wrap for now and the haze isn't making photography at safaris any more justified...
While we are anxiously awaiting the next episode of that much anticipated story of mine, we shall attempt to clarify something that is quite fuzzy (literally speaking). Yup, the haze is back and as the title suggests, the all time top song now is that oldies song "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes". Seriously.
I actually wanted to post a photo or two which features pretty water droplets suspended in mid-air which i took at Sentosa a few months back, which looks quite amazing to me, not that they are magical, but simply because one doesn't usually stare at water fountains trying to see suspended droplets. However, until i figure out whether the problem lies with the internet connection, computer or my patience, i can't post the pictures. Well, they are not award winning anyway and after a while, you get the feeling there is more to life than droplets. But, i digress.
So, back to the main topic. Since the nice photo shots are damaged by the haze and the air is just so thick with smoke, small particles, wood ash, and bad management of forest fires by neighbouring governments (i didn't say this, it is public opinion, i swear), well i'm stuck indoors with watery eyes, a slightly sore throat, a lot of bottles of water, a laptop, no computer games and a blog, you can pretty much figure out what is going on in my life. I'm dying to go for a walk around singapore, but the haze together with the already present symptoms of overexposure to smoke and the large amount of cars in Singapore, suddenly going out isn't such a great idea after all. And, not forgetting to mention, a low number of good photo opportunities outdoors, and even if there are, anyone looking at the photos will surely be wondering why would someone be silly enough to want to take photos in the haze, when everything is in a blur.
But then again, we all know there is more to life than just haze, water droplets and blogs. Only problem is, when they all occur at once, there isn't much in life, only staring at keyboards and monitors. Goodbye for now...
Sorry for the long absence of an update, but it is just sometimes so hard to get an internet connection here that it is tempting to give up and find something else to indulge in, but i'm back. Stories aren't my forte, but sometimes i am tempted to express myself, so here's the first part...
"The days when we all walked along the banks of the River will never be forgotten as we continue our very own existence in our own worlds and dimensions. The stark contrast in our personalities, principles and pleasures made our differences irreconcilable and leaving us with the harsh decision of breaking up from each other at this point of time. I could only choose one among all of my dearest friends to join me as I continue my journey down the rough road of life that still lie ahead of me.
It was a memorable beginning for our relationship as we met during uncertain and hard times. It was when I first left home for a land far, far away from home. As ideal as it seemed, I believed that there was more to it than meets the eye. A hidden black cloud that hid behind the sunshine of hope that flowed endlessly from my new home haunted me. While I traversed a few of the many streets that criss-crossed the abstract domain of my dreams, I felt the need for a few companions that would be my guiding hand as a make precarious decisions in many of my new adventures and endeavors there. I needed one who could form the basis of my beliefs, and have trust in me in whatever I do. It was in this time of great distress that I met them, who, unbeknownst to me, would later cause me the biggest crisis in this phase of my life..."
