Blogstipation – I read that in The Straits Times Sunday Life. I suppose that’s what I have now. How exciting and public can my life get when I’m out of school? Technically and probably scientifically proven, being out of school should enhance any Singaporean’s life. However, it hasn’t quite done so in the ‘publicisable’ arena (i.e. mundane niceties) of mine.
The latest news that’s at the top of my head now is that my parents have just got me a $22 blender that can’t quite beat up watermelon pieces very well because of its poor design (where the blades don’t attack every possible corner of the ridiculously huge blending jug). Nevertheless, I’m still appreciative of this new toy. It makes staying at home versus going to Simei’s Burger King (and making friends with Jason, a TJC Primary-5-looking boy, the resident of the corner window seat at all times) possibly a more contentious issue. Speaking of Jason, I told him I was shocked he spoke English. He laughed at me, but I suppose he understood a little better why I was surprised when I explained my encounters with boys.
I was in a SAP primary school (Kong Hwa – one of the infamous 5 Hokkien Huay Kuan schools in the league of Tao Nan, that mothers desperately want their clueless 6-year-olds in), where practically all the little humans are cheenafied in dangerously high concentration levels. The only English that is spoken is a grotesque though natural fusion of Chinese, dialect and unintelligible grammar.
Before I felt that all Singaporean kids couldn’t speak English, I moved on to Tanjong Katong Girls’ – an all girls school with the majority of the population as terrified by all things Chinese as I was. The only encounter I had with boys during those 4 years was with those from Saint Patrick’s (generally above-average looking male adolescent specimens whose 'Pheromonic' scent overcomes the pleasant exterior, particularly on crowded afternoon Bus 10's). St. Pat’s boys speak 2 languages, English and Vulgaritese. Again, while English is vaguely spoken, it is heavily adulterated with elements from another language.
SAJC wasn’t very much better in proving my male peers to be capable of speaking decent English in her pure form (a combination of Kong Hwaians’ English and St. Pat’s English). Of course, there were the rare few – out of which half are metrosexuals.
Thus at the end of the day, it isn’t problematical understanding why I was stunned at Jason – a pure-English-speaking boy, who came from Anglican High (another cheenafied SAP school) and is currently in the infamous-for-cheenafication Temasek JC.
Monday, October 20, 2003
Monday, October 13, 2003
Saying Goodbye
I’ve been reading farewell blogs – Joshua, Janelle and Georgina’s to be exact. The feeling of leaving and a certain have-to-move-on-and-leave-the-last-1.5-years-of-my-life-behind is plaguing me. It's been 3 days since the much-blogged about Farewell Assembly. Time always dilutes some emotions.
Janelle, you were wrong about no one crying during the farewell lecture and assembly.
Melancholy rules these days.
I've been stealing digital-cam photos off Gan's and Janelle's online photo galleries. I have saved a WinWord file titled "Farewell Blogs". Janelle's, Joshua's and Georgina's ones are the 3 entries in this file.
Thanks for picking up the memorable aspects of SAJC/02.A12/Divving...
My mind's not working. I'm weak, all over.
Anyway, here's the late MRT entry penned on 9 October, Thursday:
I am probably sentimental – perhaps in a practical and less obvious way, or perhaps the old man Mr Wee’s fondness of memories have rubbed onto me in the past week.
Leaving Tanjong Katong Girls’ wasn’t quite that big an emotional event compared to parting with college life. Today, I had my last lecture (Econs) and last tutorial (GP). I didn’t feel anything during those lessons that were relevant to the current reflective mood I’m in now. I’m on the train again.
(It appears that train journeys always see me consolidating the day’s events, thoughts and emotions, to add a more meaningful experience of the day to my life’s archives.)
Tomorrow’s the farewell assembly – my last official day as a student of Saint Andrew’s Junior College. From then on, the school no longer has any responsibility or even much control over me. The threat of detention due to misconduct no longer applies, the daily routine of waking up at 6 and trying to hit the assembly ground before K does is permanently broken.
While technically, I’ll still be in school for the A Levels in November, I still see the past few days as extra meaningful. Maybe this reminiscing mode is a less known component of my psyche – trying to seek significance and purpose in everything, including my past.
Janelle, you were wrong about no one crying during the farewell lecture and assembly.
Melancholy rules these days.
I've been stealing digital-cam photos off Gan's and Janelle's online photo galleries. I have saved a WinWord file titled "Farewell Blogs". Janelle's, Joshua's and Georgina's ones are the 3 entries in this file.
Thanks for picking up the memorable aspects of SAJC/02.A12/Divving...
My mind's not working. I'm weak, all over.
Anyway, here's the late MRT entry penned on 9 October, Thursday:
I am probably sentimental – perhaps in a practical and less obvious way, or perhaps the old man Mr Wee’s fondness of memories have rubbed onto me in the past week.
Leaving Tanjong Katong Girls’ wasn’t quite that big an emotional event compared to parting with college life. Today, I had my last lecture (Econs) and last tutorial (GP). I didn’t feel anything during those lessons that were relevant to the current reflective mood I’m in now. I’m on the train again.
(It appears that train journeys always see me consolidating the day’s events, thoughts and emotions, to add a more meaningful experience of the day to my life’s archives.)
Tomorrow’s the farewell assembly – my last official day as a student of Saint Andrew’s Junior College. From then on, the school no longer has any responsibility or even much control over me. The threat of detention due to misconduct no longer applies, the daily routine of waking up at 6 and trying to hit the assembly ground before K does is permanently broken.
While technically, I’ll still be in school for the A Levels in November, I still see the past few days as extra meaningful. Maybe this reminiscing mode is a less known component of my psyche – trying to seek significance and purpose in everything, including my past.
Sunday, October 05, 2003
The 126-Questions & 48-Questions Tests
Conscious self | Overall self |
 |  |
Not entirely accurate, but yes:
I'm extroverted, I enjoy the company of others. Relationships are important to me.
I'm more fearless than others, it is easy for me to trust people, I am physically affectionate, open-minded and I do generally like to listen as much as I like expressing myself.
No, :
I don't think I am the consummate loyal friend. I happen to think that I don't make a very good friend. I don't put in enough effort to maintain friendships that don't fall within the reach of convenience. That, I don't like about myself either.
I don't agree that I am not forthcoming about my inner struggles (besides those I am not consciously aware of) other than to Ly (whom I girlishly often expect to read the subtleties, much to his agony).
I hardly finish things that I start, or at least I don't end things as well as I start them. I'm more aware of pleasure than of pain? I never thought so, but I really am not sure about this one.
| ESFJ - "Seller". Most sociable of all types. Nurturer of harmony. Outstanding host or hostesses. 13% of the total population. |
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Another NEL Jouney - The Self-Portrayal Game
I’m on the NEL route home again (this is probably going to be the daily fare now that it has dawned upon me that this route cuts 15 minutes off my travel time).
I’m not staring at people today because I’m getting stared at myself. Some non-local-but-definitely-Asian guy was making sure I caught him looking at me for some reason ranging from male pervertness to perhaps the same sadistic satisfaction I attain by making my Autistic-Staring game victims uncomfortable. That guy left at City Hall – and I got a seat (the obvious implication of my being able to record this live).
Speaking of being stared at/observed/victimised, I have another game – the Self-Portrayal game. Often depending on my mood, dressing, time of day and location, I’ll adjust my poise and body language accordingly. I can portray the exteriors of the don’t-mess-with-me independent female, the shy conservative girl, the attitude-problem arty-farter, the deep-thinking intellectual or the bo-chap-per (apathetic ice queen). Of course I’ll only do this when only strangers, whom I don’t believe I shall ever see again, surround me. It gives me a trivial form of benign entertainment for my journeys, waiting time and other miscellaneous daily mundane routines.
I’m not staring at people today because I’m getting stared at myself. Some non-local-but-definitely-Asian guy was making sure I caught him looking at me for some reason ranging from male pervertness to perhaps the same sadistic satisfaction I attain by making my Autistic-Staring game victims uncomfortable. That guy left at City Hall – and I got a seat (the obvious implication of my being able to record this live).
Speaking of being stared at/observed/victimised, I have another game – the Self-Portrayal game. Often depending on my mood, dressing, time of day and location, I’ll adjust my poise and body language accordingly. I can portray the exteriors of the don’t-mess-with-me independent female, the shy conservative girl, the attitude-problem arty-farter, the deep-thinking intellectual or the bo-chap-per (apathetic ice queen). Of course I’ll only do this when only strangers, whom I don’t believe I shall ever see again, surround me. It gives me a trivial form of benign entertainment for my journeys, waiting time and other miscellaneous daily mundane routines.
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