rants: campus accommodation

I'm feeling really frustrated with the NUS accommodation, and whom can I blame? I was offered accommodation previously at UTown, Single Corridor Room. I've gotten the last of the last choices - UTown, suite. Over here, 5 girls who starts off as strangers will live together. I wonder what future holds.

I like my own space, a space away from needing to talk to people. I'm afraid that I would have to face people whom I'm not used to. I'm scared of the uncertainty ahead.

I'm also paying slightly more for (hopefully cleaner) en-suite toilets.

I've stayed in a suite before and besides the very beautiful models constructed by the two architects-to-be and the 2 cleaning aunties whom became my good friends, staying in a suite is really not my thing : /

The long process of trying and trying is really tiring. I hope that this is the last call. So here's my long story.

Applied to stay in C. College, Single Corridor; application accepted
Withdrew application due to some very emotionally-distressing experiences
Told to wait 1.5 months before I can apply for other residences
Waited
The day finally came. I could not apply because the system did not allow me to stay anywhere else other than C. College. Wrote in. Solved, after a few days.
Finally applied
Waited some more
Results came: unsuccessful; long waiting list
Emailed Prof X, asked if there is another place I could stay
Prof X replied, saying I could choose A. College or RVR
Thought a long time. Didn't like the expensive and mundane meal plan in UTown. Decided to choose A. College over RVR.
Prof X asked Master of A. College if I could stay. Master said I have to write in personally.
After labouriously thinking of what I can offer, I stayed up half a night to write the first initiative of my life - a pilot project, to help needy students in NUS, by ... (I can't tell you yet!). Continued revamping my resume, squeezed every single drop of my brain juice to write a cover letter (that I'm extremely proud of, even till today), a cover letter that communicates me (not my competency, but me, as a person, as a student, as an aspiring teacher).
Finally sent the application (after drafting the email many times)
Got a response days later; I've been accepted!!!

THEN...
Admin wrote to me saying that the system is opened for me to sign up
I signed in. Nope, doesn't work. I'm listed as "Unsuccessful" in application for residences.
Wrote back to tell them to put me in A. College. Admin wrote back saying I need to apply through A.College (but hey, I've already been accepted!)
Wrote to admin of my problem.
They wrote back, asking for my matric number. Finally! :)
I gave my matric number.
Waited.
They told me I can apply now.
I logged in. "C. College - Application Rejected"
No, that's not what I applied for.
Wrote back to get them to change.
Waited.
They wrote back saying they've changed.
I logged in. Nope, they haven't.
I wrote back saying they haven't updated it.
They told me to try again.
Ah. Finally. I see it! :)
Applied. Paid application fee.
Waited.
Accepted!! :D "Please log in to accept."
Logged in. No "Accept Offer" button! : X
Desperate. Log in again from another computer. Can't work. Wrote to admin.
Waited.
Admin wrote back, asking me to check again.
It's done!!! :D I can accept offer now!
BUT
Oh my...
I'm staying in a suite! (I want a corridor room.)

- Heaves a long sigh... -

The moral of the story: The system is never at fault. It's all our fault. Ok, my fault... *chuckles!* 

is there hope for... me, humanity, the world?

many think that these two animals are bought by my boyfriend for me. contrariwise, they aren't. My little brother, being a reserved child, is deeply acquainted with the little Pooh bear in the picture. Big sister me spotted Big Pooh, and together with my boyfriend, we brought the Big Pooh back home to my little brother. He was flabbergasted. "Ahhhh!!!!" He couldn't stop grinning. It has since become his new best friend. The Big Pooh's his girlfriend, and the little Pooh his little boy. He's only 12.

Lab report. Screwed because my extremely brilliant partner spilled the DNA over to the other lane. He airbrushed it away on photoshop. We scored an A for the report. All I did was to check the grammar. *grins* [An 'A' grade in NUS is extremely hard to get by the way.] I got to keep this photograph, the DNA fingerprint in which I argued on and on, "I'm dead sure there's ethidium bromide in it!" There isn't. There's only agar, and it isn't edible.

A slice of rainbow cake, compliments of my hostel neighbour. Being the extremely shy/asocial new addition to the block, I was not invited to any celebrations of birthdays. Not that I really care, actually. I was studying hard for my exams. Then came a knock at the door, and a slice of cake. It did cheer me up from my lulls of work, and for a split second, the world didn't look as dystopic as education has made it out to be.

I love this photograph. It's badly taken, i know. I took it during a visit to a nursing home with my boyfriend. I saw that possibly 80 year old man feeding his wife food. They didn't speak much, but the love in his eyes surpassed any words that the universe could describe. There she was, in the nursing home. Rain or shine, he would be there to visit. Almost brought tears to my eyes.

Gender stereotypes, seen in these little ten-year-olds. "Boys eat more what!' They were buzzing away. Truth is, I thought so, when I was 10, but now that I'm so much older, I realised boys only eat much more after puberty, not at such a tender age. Their fascination with almost everything strikes me. Little Einstein, a boy in the crowd of 39, answered every single question like reading a Britannica with a twinkling in his eyes. Plump girl got scolded by teacher, and started crying and withdrawing from the crowd. "The girl in yellow", the teacher said, "watch out for her." I thought she was a monster. She wasn't. She was a little autistic, and could not relate well to her peers. It's most unfortunate that children are "marked for destiny" at such a tender age. And equally unfortunate is that they would grow to be who the society expects of them. At least, according to Psych, a lousy capability paired with high hopes makes a child a "high ability kid" as opposed to a normal capability paired with low hopes.

This is the most epic photo of my life's collection. Snapped in Singapore, this photograph is a lift that's shut down. The paper writes, "The management didn't treat us like humans... [the rest I couldn't read cus it's too cursive]... B**tard!" It might not be a big deal, but because it's Singapore and I literally walked up the stairs with other residents of the block, I was quite startled that such a protest was launched. In Singapore, workers always do as told. In Singapore, there hasn't been a strike for more than half a century. In Singapore, the government believes in efficiency and protection of labour welfare. Is there a slice of population that we have forgotten, or the workers are being overly demanding? But anyway, I smiled to myself that something extraordinary has happened right before my eyes.

Is there hope? Of course! Agency vs structure. The world's a bizarre, yet dazzling place.

forgone conclusion?! but...

what do you do when faced with a forgone conclusion?
This is inspired by an academic interest, as well as a personal interest.

I'm reading Military History: The Battle of Hong Kong. It is generally understood that Hong Kong, being such a small island with little resources (military or other supplies like water) can never defeat the Japanese in face of an invasion. It occurred, in 8 Dec 1941. General Christopher Maltby however was confident that he could hold Hong Kong, for a few months at least. But he did not; it was lost, with extremely heavy casualties, in about 17 days. Why fight, and to what end was the garrison supposed to fight? Till the last man? Why send 2 untrained Canadian battalions who thought that they were not going to fight to Hong Kong, and why was it not communicated to them that Hong Kong was an outpost, and had little chance, if any, of survival? Some scholars have argued: "There's no difference if one were to send them into a meat grinder."

Alas, Maltby, and Brooke-Popham, (Air Marshal? C-in-C of Far East Asian Command?) believed that the enemy was weak.
Murfett's law: "Never underestimate your opponents."

Knowing your enemy is deadly, how do you make preparations to fight it?

Knowing that I might fare reasonably badly for this module, how do I try to save myself? Or do I suffer from inferiority complex? Am I panicky and reactionary, such that I can't think of the "best solution"?

==fight or die==
That was what the Japanese were faced with. Either you die gloriously, or you die pathetically. Either way, you die. But with a little bit of luck, you might survive.

To what extent is a "back door" a hindrance? Do people divorce because that is their back door? If there wasn't any divorce possible, could people love more, or try harder?

Surprisingly, what I learnt from this module is how willpower can triumph over dire circumstances. Amazing leadership, according to my Prof, does wonders. It can resurrect the dead even (no, it can't, i'm kidding), turn the tides, and make all things possible.

Could it be well-calibrated, cautious confidence, that leads one to victory? well-calibrated here means knowing your own strengths and weaknesses, and knowing the demands of your task ahead. Cautious is self-explanatory; always be prepared, for the worst scenarios. And whatever the case, have faith in victory - otherwise, "the battle is half lost."

And it all seems so paradoxical. How can one be cautious yet confident? How can one be confident in being well-calibrated enough? Having done all, resign to fate? >.<

Murfett's law: Luck. Machiavelli's favourite word: Fortuna. She only sticks to the bold, those who afford to take a calculated risk.
(And of course, what is a calculated risk? Does it factor in how dire the situation is?)

Actually, there's something I haven't spoken about.

First, I noticed that humans admire those who recognise and are not afraid to admit they have weaknesses.

Second, sometimes the conclusion isn't so much in winning or losing. George Osborne, a soldier, threw himself on a grenade and saved 6 lives. He lost his life. But he won in many ways. He won my respect, the respect of the soldiers around him, and he won a Victorian Cross, the highest ranking medal.

Thirdly, while victories are often clear-cut, defeats aren't. Because there are many levels to being defeated.

Hmm...

love (and politics)

Such were the two things that inspired this post today.

After tuition, I headed home and it felt really good to be back. Everyone was around; laughed at my little brother's increasingly oily face (he's starting puberty, and by talking about it I help him transit), at my father's listening to radio and youtube stuff (he seemed to pay such attention to every word I said to him, it's really nice) and my mother (who told me about her work and asked if I wanted food).

And I thought about Clarence, and how blessed I am, to have found a man who makes life a heaven on earth, in every sense. He understands me, cares for me, surprises me, listens to me... He asked if I wanted to go catch a movie with him. I haven't done that, mainly because my lack of interest does not justify my ticket purchase. And I was so surprised, that he asked, even when exams are looming. So adventurous, though he seemed so mundane at first sight.

I thought about being a teacher, and that vaguely reminded me of the previous guy I dated. "Just another HDB light," he sniggers. Being a teacher is all too normal, it's becoming the 80%, the mediocre. But Clarence shares such a powerful insight.

Would you rather be born into an upper-middle class family, do well in school, find the love of your life, get married, have kids, get promotion in work, get rich, grow old, and die at 70, have lots of people remembering you... or would you rather be...

a slum kid, who often got beaten, had only an illiterate mother, who fights his way up the rungs of his realm, gain respect, get into drugs and quit, grow up, start a small business and fund his own university education, fails in business, then having tried many times, succeeded, gain prominence and got into politics, got married to the girl he'd been chasing for 10 years, child dies, and finally become the president of the State, then have an illness which renders him crippled, but nonetheless he continued and impacted the world greatly?

Some would choose the latter, but most would choose the former. There's a difference between happiness, and fulfilment. A difference between having a good/happy life, and a meaningful one. I had felt ashamed to become a teacher despite really passionately liking the experience, because it makes me "just another HDB light". That was also another thing my previous church taught - being a light on the hill. It's a tall order and not everyone attains it. Having found Clarence, I really don't care what others are doing. I'd rather be a happy person, HDB or not, than have a meaningful life without the immense happiness. I just met a friend who kept joking that he'd be the next prime minister. He, however, has a love-life problem. My question to him was: What's the point of life if you, having become the Prime Minister, has a dysfunctional home?

Brings me to my next point. Home. And freedom. I posted a question to Clarence, asking what would he recommend a person who desires freedom but also wants to settle down.

Birds are symbols of freedom. I wonder who first came up with that. If there were no branches, no place for the birds to rest their weary wings, they may even regret having wings to fly with in the first place. Perhaps true freedom simply means having a place you can return to...

I didn't agree at first, thinking that it didn't address the question of freedom. But it's legit. And maybe he's right. Love, and freedom, need no logical-mathematical reasoning.

Giving in India

I'm writing on giving/gifting in India, on how, and why, it is done, amongst merchants, towards both religious and secular institutions. I'm going mad because there isn't enough sources for me to write on. Yet, there are more than what I require, for me to consolidate, gather, and make sense of. Big terms like Social capital by Pierre Bordieau, Sanskritization by M.N. Srinivas, Credit by C.A. Bayly, and vicarious ritualization by Milton Singer, got my brain overheating. And off I go in search to make sense of these vague terms. Other than my secret glee of knowing the names and works of these scholars (anthropologists, sociologists, ethnologists, historian), all these seem transient. So transient, the next semester I would be looking at a bunch of different names.

"I'm your biggest fan I'll follow you until you love me, papa-, paparazzi" - Lady Gaga

I somehow feel that I'm a paparazzi following the works of these scholars. I dream them, read them, memorize them, recite them, apply them. Gosh.

As if I would need any of these when I graduate. The unfortunate thing is that I take a long time to remember what they say, and eternity thereafter to forget what they say. The education system about force-feeding, vormitting, and carrying on, isn't really what I'm apt at.

Significance: It is understood that Indian merchants spend a lot of money on giving, through the ages, much more than their Western counterparts. It is also noted that generally, they give to religious causes, education/public works and infrastructure, and political causes.

Irony of explaining how they give: They have given to various causes through the ages. However, Rudner argues that the Chettiars stated giving to secular causes only because of the British, and calls it religious endowments (Palsetia also uses the term in Parsis), which connotes an extremely capitalistic slant. Similarly, Douglas Haynes argues that there is a shift from offering tribute to giving philanthropy, because of the British, arguing that it is clever politics at work. Milton Singer proposes that it has to do with Hinduism, that it is the effect of Sanskritization, as opposed to the Weberian thesis on Hinduism being incompatible with capitalism.

Is there a dichotomy between religious giving and secular giving, or is it an extension of giving in general? If so, is it linked to Hinduism?
Why they give:
1.Religious – Hinduism, want to get to heaven
2.Economic – advertising par excellence, networking, creditworthiness
3.Social – altruism might bring forth fruits that might be valuable
4.Reputation – part of the “vicarious ritualization”, increasing one’s social capital
5.Political – want their names to be kept forever, either in names of buildings, or knighthood, or political titles

*Note: motives can never be generic and they are very often guesswork. Avoid postulating the exact reasons they start out with. Rather, look at a list of reasons for giving.

Is there a pattern to the giving across India? Could the pattern be extended to Asia in general (NAKS)? Why or why not? Is this form of giving similar to the Western concept of philanthropy? Why or why not?

in view of february

[please be informed that this is my last posting till March; unless my blogger itch comes on rapidly]

1. Good health, for myself and my loved ones.
2. Happiness and peace for myself and my loved ones.
3. Happily ever after, with him.
4. To know that you care for me (whomever you are, something thoughtful, like a smile or an sms, would be very nice indeed)
5. Hoping that I'm never in dire lack of money (been lucky so far).
6. Good grades for exams.
7. I wish JX and I could be friends again. Sigh.
8. Catch-up with the girls of my life (secondary, jc, church)
9. That I've the courage to go back to [where my heart had been for the longest while]
10. That I could have more courage to face up to the world and to myself, and not having to avoid people, to do what I desire, without thinking so much

lifestory: biologist turned historian turned biologist

Ok, i'm joking. How can one change path so many times?

I was a student of biology in my high school. It was the love of my life. I had abandoned it for History. And now I'm back, with something incredulous. Microfluidics. Gee, you might ask, what the heaven is that?

It's something i cannot yet describe. Very complex. I'm studying deterministic lateral displacement, cytoskeletal structures, cell/nucleus deformity, all of which falls under mechanobiology. It doesn't help that i hate physics.

What I read about in 4 days and still couldn't understand (all of that crazy stuff above), I undestood in 2 minutes of youtube. Quite cool, eh?

Maybe that's the reason why Watson and Crick was SO SUCCESSFUL. They used the kid's way of learning - toys, some call it - models. Perhaps, as a historian, I could imagine the impact of the entire audience when they saw the DNA structure. Sounds dumb, clamps and wooden sticks. But hey, for the first time, scientists in the molecular field SAW the structure.

woohoo~

http://pre.aps.org/abstract/PRE/v83/i5/e056301
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmgP8fBfcJU (i watched it without the music first time, it's irritating i know)

really looking forward to interviewing that A*Star senior research scientist, Dr Keng-Hwee Chiam. Sounds beyond me. Lucky, I'm doing it with Syaheed, quite a genius in his own ways, who knew what IHPC was and exclaimed "Cool!" at the sound of mechanobiology.

does having many interests mean one is unfaithful?

having many interests doesn't mean you won't be faithful to your soulmate. here's why. I initially titled the post "it's the caffeine thing".

i have too many interests. uncountable. if i narrow it down, it's probably reading, and music. that's what i never get sick of. but ah, i don't like to read the same thing again and again, and neither do i stay in the 80s, or 90s, for the same ole' music forever. but wait a minute, I do like some music forever. In my early days when taiwanese boyband "5566" was in, i listened to all their music. i liked Sun Yanzi (Stephanie Sun), S.H.E, and JJ Lin Jun Jie. Perhaps they aren't cool now, but every time I hear them over the radio, my heart pounds, and I feel like I'm in another world. My later discoveries, Linkin Park, Avril Lavigne, and Lady Gaga, has been my favourites for god knows how many years. But I still like variation. And history has proven I can never quite find something better than them easily.

I claim I do reading as an obligation, but I do enjoy the process of reading, and getting to know stuff. I read anything from the shampoo bottle ingredients to nutritional fact labels to facebook updates to academic journals. And of course, news (but I get so bored sometimes because they seldom report things i'm interested in). My interests span from biology/chemistry to history. BUT, ask me, and I will tell you that George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four remains my favourite; Dan Brown, Alex Shearer and Roald Dahl have won my support through the years.

This post is inspired by coffee. I've been getting headaches very often through my holidays and I didn't know why. Today, I got the dreaded headache again. I thought it was migrane. I thought I was going to die.

Here's what: I realised I missed my coffee.

Now, it's strange, because coffee CAUSES headaches. I've never heard of coffee alleviating headaches. Ever. Whenever I get the dreaded headache, I avoid coffee. And I never get well. In fact, even after sleeping, it still bugs me. So here's faithfulness.

There are just some things in life we cannot live without. Some people, too. These people have become so normal in our lives, we only notice their absence, with a bugging headache. And sometimes, without luck, we wouldn't even know what's bugging us.

Spend more time with your loved ones. And yes, the person(s) is our caffeine. I started drinking since 17 and I haven't left it. I live on black coffee without sugar (bitter hell YES), but it keeps me going. The nastiest thing in life could be the antidote to greater pain in life. And once you start, it's so hard to quit, even if you quit it, you'll miss it.

Love is like caffeine. It keeps me going, it becomes less obvious with time as THE FACTOR that keeps me going. While some cannot get enough of it, some just need a minimum dosage (like myself). That doesn't mean it's unimportant.

Wishlist , 2011?

A post online is a potential folly. We learn from 2011 never to "Like" Kate Spade (Tin Pei Ling and her Kate Spade story), look tanned from having travelled when the entire country is freezing their bones off (in Britain, with respect to politicians), or in fact, like anything, online, especially if you're a politician. And be careful what you wish for. Libya got liberated, but it's quite unlikely they will progress to where they thought they were fighting for.

The year 2011 was very special because I came back with a fresh new perspective from India. I had the time of my life in NUS, having done modules which I love, and well, the grades aren't fantastic for MOE's standard, but we live on. 2011 was the first time I got called to a professor's office to be told I don't have to take life so hard upon my back. I don't need to carry people's burdens all the time.

2011 was significant because I lost my best friend. There's no way to get over it. If she were reading this, I would ask for another chance to atone for my sins face-to-face. But there isn't any chance to be given again.

2011 was the year I was first blacklisted on social media for writing a politically sensational issue. In fact, many. But the biggest was on the University Scholars Programme, and because I stood up for the lesser off people who had not $10,000 extra to spare to get into the scholars programme, I was slammed.

2011 was the year I thought I could get new best friends, but I can't. For many, friendship is about getting something in exchange for something else. Friendships without transactions don't last very long in university, from my own experience. They come and go like tides will never stay the same. And to my ex-bff who says that friends will be there for you always, truth is, they never are. No one will always, always be there for you. If you ever find a person like that, marry that person. He or she is probably god or god-sent.

2011 was the year I first moved into the campus. It was a roller coaster experience. From sneaking into B's room on weekends to staying with C because she knew I needed a place to study, to finally moving in and trying to avoid every single person in the block because I had earned some bad blood with them, was a mentally-challenging experience. But I live alright.
3.5 3.9 4.0 4.1

In 2011, I signed up as an intern for MOE, and I was chosen. I went teaching in a school near my house, and my, it was some kind of experience. I had a good time with my secondary two students whom I would never forget. The secondary threes are horrorful, to say the least. But I still was inspired by them because eventually I became their friends of sorts, when the most horrorful of all actually smiled at me and shook my hand after she won a costume contest. She's the type to scold strings of vulgarities without periods. And the other attention-seeking one told me his life story of how he got retained and his gang of bad influence left him behind. And because a million other reasons convinced me that the system had room for me... On a side note, in 2011 I've got the best students for tuition. They're from South Korea, and they show me a world so vast out there. I've learnt that Korean actually sounds like Chinese, how to make kimchi, how cosmetic surgery is a MUST in Korea. I just had to say this: In 2011, Kim Jong-Il died. And this: in 2011, the MRT in Singapore broke down and caused a big hooha in Singapore. In 2011, the General Elections of Singapore happened, and one GRC was lost to the opposition. In 2011, Lee Kuan Yew and Goh Chok Tong stepped down.

In 2011, I took on leadership role as a Youth Expedition Project Leader. I met a great bunch of really extraordinary people (from the good sense to the alien sense). I met the most extraordinary of leader, Mr Tan YH, who's all that I am not. So we were complementary in most sense. And for those who wonders whether there was any spark between him and I, NO, there wasn't. The first reason is obvious: he isn't my type, and neither am I his. The second reason is a better one: I found a more wonderful guy. In fact, to be honest, that's the most wonderful thing that happened to me in 2011.

It's been 9 full months of the same person. I've settled down, in that sense. He's most ordinary, and that's what makes him extraordinary. I don't know what I can say of him except that at this point in time, I feel that I've found THE person I could spend my life with. Honeymoon days never seem to end with him, sorrows never seem to last with him around. He was too cool and blur to have caught any of my hints. He asked if he could date me. I said yes to him because he wasn't nasty. I later found out he's better than my checklist. I chucked that sometime ago. I probably had the best times of my life in Singapore with him.

Paint

Paint is such a strange thing. There are so many kinds of it. Water colours, acrylic paint, oil paints. Of course, when we (as adults OR young adults) think about paint, it's usually that smelly sticky stuff you smear either on your whatever, or people smear on your car, etc.

Being the craziest in the family, I recently sparked off a chain of painting craze.

It must have been 4 years ago since my father started chanting that he wanted to paint the house. Every year, he said we would paint in December. Every year December passed by quickly, sometimes in a chilly, busy manner. Too cold, too busy, too lazy. This year, I happened to know of a boy who prefers staying home, and so I thought of painting my room, as a project to do together. Of course, the yellow patches in my room was already driving me nuts. The place looked old and dirty, and inhabitable. My light buzzed when I switched it on. And dust was piling up.

"Pa, I want to paint my room. Can I?" "Paint lah! Aiyah, why ask? We will buy the paint now. Let's go."

It was decidedly whitish blue. Instead of yellow, which my father had something against.

Cut the long story short, I invited the boy over to paint my room. And my family fed him lots, and thanked him for helping all of us. The black-swan event (a totally unexpected event) was my closest aunt visiting. That aunt invited the boy for dinner at her house once, 5 months ago. And she saw us painting. She exclaimed, "Wah, I also want to paint my house. Ask him over to help leh!" I just smiled.

It did happened (unfortunately). He was summoned to paint. And all my brothers went over too. The house which I grew up in, as it was around since my birth, had not been painted for 18 years. He very nicely took leave off his job just to paint my aunt's house. The deal was the living room. It extended to her bedroom, then her bedroom door, then her bedroom toilet door, then another room door, then another room door. I felt bad asking the boy over to do so much manual labour, but his cheery disposition made me less guilt-stricken.
*I did give him a choice. I didn't drag him by the collar to paint.

Anyway, he was fed lots of food, and he found the dynamics of my family (this time, extended family) fascinating. I thought it was also a good time where he and I saw each other in front of many other people. He was quieter, I was chatty like I always was, obviously because I know them. I'm really thankful, and glad he rendered his service.

This morning, my father was talking about painting the living room. My brother booked me last week for painting his room this Tuesday. And I found out my father has never painted (well, not very much, except the toilet ceiling).

The boy had become the master painter during the second painting job. He was also encouraging towards my brothers, which I was pleased about. Very pleased. Extremely pleased. (I love my brothers lots, in a kind of band-of-brothers love.)

My mother often tells me to ask him over for meals. Last night, she mentioned that the boy reminds her of my father when she was dating. Oh my. Is that a kind of hint??!

I started painting because that boy didn't embrace adventures like myself, to roam, travel, climb, explore, sweat, as much. (He isn't the strawberry generation, he's just the home-keeper of sorts.)

I do wonder how things would turn out. Or if I would take after my mother. Or if I've taken after my father. But whatever. If I get a baby anytime in the next 18 years (which is a long time), he/she would see that coat of paint, and a story behind it lays.

The boy was also very sincere, ernest, helpful, polite, and modest. And of course, skilled, by now. Ziyang, Zijie, Tze-nien, Zhihao can all set up a company to paint. $200-$250 per person. Hey, that's not bad a deal! Cheaper than market rate.

his girl- a poem

I don't need your money
I only hope you'll care
I don't need the bling bling
But want you as my bear

You don't need to be brave always
Or protect me from the rain
It'll be nice if you had umbrella
Or walk with me in the rain

I don't need you to please me
Or impress me all the time
It'll be nice to sing to me
and have ice cream for a dime

I hope that you will stay very safe
Don't worry, cuz I am
I fly to the highest star and back
And we will have Honey and jam

I am frustrated now because I have
Nothing to work my brain
It'll be nice if you can give
something easy teasy for it again

I wish I could have more surprises
To see you fret and think
Because you look so cute when you
try get me something Pink

Although I know this place much more
It pleases me that you try
To bring me very far away
To get me to smile and cry

I don't have very much to give
But here is what I have
I have a brain, which moves very fast
And a soul for the world to share

I have a pair of hands to make
Artefacts for us to keep
A stack of unread papers so that
We can read them and fall asleep

I like a big mess of myself
To drip coffee around my desk
I know you hate it but hate to say
I'm a monster and a pesk

I'm sorry I've bee straightforward
Or blunt as they might call
I don't think much of errors made
So don't fret if you fall

I hate disrespect and excuses
Because I feel inadequate
On the one hand I feel really small
On the other I feel awkward

On some days I prefer books
And yes, please let me be
On some days I prefer girls
And I hope you let me be

On some days I love to fly
And stressful this may be
But to me, I love to move very fast
I hope you'll not blame me

I know your flaws as you know mine
So don't be fast and grumbly
I'd much rather you stay home
and take care of my Honey

I don't expect you to move with me
But I hope you won't tie me down
We can all be happy and slack
Wear a different kind of crown

I love you for who you are
So be that, don't be me
Cuz I won't slow down and be like you
That's not what love is

On common grounds we are the same
Quiet in front of others
But with each other we find solace
and yak like all our mothers

One thing I ask of you is that
You'll let me be who I am
For that I promise, I'll give you all
To love and to understand

Once again I say thank you
for being all I need
Please don't do more or people'd say
I've kept you for my greed

The workaholic has to go
To get brain stimulus
The counsellor will stop sneezing and
Stop stressing and make thy blur

bhaiya, mujhe tumseh pyar kathi hooh.

Social media: I thought we were friends?!

Facebook has changed social relationships. Taken it to the next level. I have come across at least 3 instances through 2011 where I wasn't friends with a person I'm close to, all of a sudden. Recently I thought I came across another case; but fortunately it turned out to be a mistake.

1. Unfriended, for life
There are people whom you can unfriend and block. My first case was as such; it was extremely painful, but there wasn't anything I could do.

2. Hacked
Another friend got hacked and unfriended me. I was sad, of course, until I realised that the account was hacked. It made me realise how scary social media is. An extra tool for mischief.

3. I've left Facebook
There's another friend of mine who left Facebook to take a break. She was such an avid Facebook user, and her sudden disappearance invoked lots of paranoia in me.

I've just checked out HER blog, after a long time. She seems very happy. I feel very sad that it all had ended like that.

To 12-107E (AY11/12; Sem 1), Cinnamon College; NUS

Hello, 12-107e,

I hope this finds you well. I've become your stalker, and have found out that you're from AEP (HCI). I rarely stalk anyone.

Anyway, thanks for being the nicest person through my stay in 12-107B. It's been a tough semester with lots of crap going on in life, but I've made it through. And you were around in the last few days of my semester.

You're always cheery, like sunshine. You offered to show me your portfolio, which I dearly appreciated. Whatever you've gotten there was beautiful. I wanted to ask if I could see any of your paintings, but dared not.

Every time you come back, you'll always say "Heyy!!" and that makes me feel kind of happy. The studying gets kind of crazy and I've moved to UTown and stayed in the room all day because I wanted to find my land of recluse, from my parents, friends, or anyone else. I found it hard to face just anyone, and find it a terrible chore. It was you who made me feel that I don't have to be ashamed of myself and hide from the USP crowd.

Thanks for inviting me to the end of sem pizza party. I've accumulated some bad blood with USP and I'm officially ostracized. I wouldn't have gone, let alone stay, if not for you. Thanks for chatting with me, and getting to know me. I'm such a closed up person at 21 years old I've stopped trying to socialize. The world is increasingly hostile, and I find friends in the two aunties who cleans the suite every Monday morning.

I find it a little harder to talk to strangers out of the blue. Honestly, I don't know if I'm too shy, or people are too hostile. I used to lead hundreds of people to cheer in school events, now I can't bring myself to tell anyone anything about myself. It's a nice gesture of you to ask - about Art History.

When I saw the yellow internet cable hanging at my door, I was sad to know that you've left. Yet I've never dared to ask for your phone number, or if we could hang out. I never even dared to tell anything about myself, including how to pronounce my name, because I feel like a nuisance, in 12-107, in Cinnamon. So I stuck my phone number (with my name) on my door in case anyone wants to call me. It sounds like the stupidest thing, like a professor trying to let a student know "this is my office and this is how my name is spelt".

You're probably too popular, busy with lots of friends. I'm too shy to ask a lot, too afraid to get rejected by girls. I grew up with guys, and I've been rejected of friendship by girls for the longest period of time. I've only a few really close ones. I haven't the time, nor energy, to continue pretending I can communicate with them. But I somehow feel that we can talk.

I'm straight. But I do hope we can talk more, and that I can find a friend in you. I wish you happiness, and success. I won't be here the next semester, in 12-107, but you've been one of the most remarkable people I've found.


*to C.S.: you aren't a girl, so please don't be jealous!

Our new norm

I've recently moved into UTown. I realised that I'm new to the living standards here.

First of all, food. It's compulsory to subscribe to "meal plan" over here, and yes, it's slightly pricey ($4 per meal, for breakfast and dinner). Several people have complained that the food is horrible, "cheat-money", "the same everyday"... Students have 4 cuisine choices - Western, Chinese, Malay, Indian, and noodles (I count this under Chinese). To be honest, I haven't the opportunity to be eating this portion and variety on a daily basis. I look forward to meal times every day. There's not just one meat, but two meat every meal for the Chinese cuisine, and there's chicken drumstick in the Malay and Indian food every day. It's not oily, or salty (I think they cut down on salt lately, which is good). For Chinese food, there's veg protein and veggies. I actually feel very blessed living here. And there's free flow of fruits (students, don't take more than your deserved share!), soup, salad and rice. There's coffee, tea and milo every day and night, and cordial (ok I'm not such a big fan of this). $3 for the main course, $1 for the extras. It's not that expensive to warrant one talking about this on a daily basis, is it? I have to agree that $4 for breakfast is extremely expensive, especially when there's no free flow of milk and cereal

Second, food again (and toiletries). I've also noticed that there are students who are eating expensive potato chips, a bag enough to fund a whole day of food expenses. The toiletries that they use are exotic-looking (and expensive-looking) non on-the-shelf commodity. Lucky students. Many are also drinking Starbucks. One starbucks is enough to pay for my one-day expenses as a student of NUS.

Third, hot showers. Singapore is a tropic country. It rains sometimes. Other than that, weather's pretty hot and humid. There are students who shower with hot water on a daily basis. Perhaps the feeling's good, but a better reason would be that they're used to showering with warm water. It's quite a luxury not to be watching electricity bills. Maybe that's the new middle-class norm - warm showers. And blowing dry one's hair with hairdryer. Is that a middle-class norm?

Fourth, waste. Students are wasteful. They throw away whatever food they cannot finish. I think food doesn't come by easily. I'd like to think of Indonesian farmers every time I eat, and make sure no rice grains are left (unless I'm extremely full). It's a social crime to leave even a single grain of rice on the plate in Indonesia. At least, that's what I'd learnt when I was there.

Fifth, not being civic-minded. I am most appalled. Students choke up toilet bowls with tissue paper, pour solids down the pantry sink and choke it. Sinks and toilet bowls are often choked. I think it's unfair to blame the contractors/builders or the cleaners for doing an unsatisfactory job. These students assume people will clean up after them. I do feel sorry for the cleaners. Once, there was a cleaner who was so angry and started shouting at me. Her eyes were going teary. She told me not to choke toilet bowls (goodness, it's not me). It's a tough life for them, is it not? While some cleaners are very proud of their children who made it to university, many do not have children doing well in the society (middle-class income, I mean).

I'm sometimes reminded of the movie Gattaca, where the male lead fakes his identity to work in a top firm. His world was genetically-stratified. He hides himself and blends in, making sure no traces of his imperfect DNA is left behind. I feel this way many a time in university. Expensive bags, expensive clothes, expensive food all around me. My reasons for not indulging in consumerism are increasingly convincing - environmental harm is my latest. And it's true. Switch off your aircon!

I hope there are more who are camouflaging here, like myself. I hope the university is not just a place for people who are living a comfortable life and still complain life sucks. I'm sure the university has created new norms for everyone. For some, yucky food. For some, really fantastic food. For some, a constant struggle to get to the front of the bell-curve. For some, life's last playground.

Postscript: I've been employed lately by the university as an intern, and this I'm extremely grateful for. [I'm not on a bursary and living on campus for free; I'm working.] Thank you, Provost Tan Eng Chye, Vice-Provost Tan Tai Yong, Choon Hwee (my friend who made all these happen), and Clarence Seow who is always supporting me. Thanks to Bridget and Haza and Yoga and Veera who supported me, defended me, and tided me through the most difficult period of my NUS life (in fact, the most difficult period of my life when I came under public scrutiny). And thank you Prof Malcolm Murfett, who is always asking if I'm alright when I'm in a daze thinking deeply about past incidents.