Happy Days

Sun:
I must be sounding stupid here. To blog about my triumph over the slippery slopes of East Coast Park. Yeah!!! I finally managed to swish my way from one slope to another, without hanging on to anybody for my dear life. I can finally blade my way to Bedok Jetty! Yes! I’ve done it! After numerous near break-bone incidents, a.k.a butt-splitting, elbow-twisting, knee-scratching falls. It’s a triumph of some sort. And triumphs always feel empowering, even if they belong to the midget-y category. Yeah!! Yippy!! Hoorayyy!!!

Sorry, I’m being frivolous. I just came back from East Coast Park. Ha! Don’t know why I simply love going there. It takes me 1.5 hrs just to get there. Maybe I’m born to love the sea. One day, I shall arm myself with a book and my trusty mp3 player and sit at the breakwater the whole day by myself. Enjoying the breeze, reading, reflecting. Yes, my idea of enjoying life. I want to stay in the East!! Sobz…

Sat:
On the wee hours of Saturday morning, I found myself on Teng’s bed, drifting between dreamland and eavesdropping on what Teng, Qing and Keow were talking. I’m not eavesdropping exactly. Their thunderous laughter and banter could probably wake and shake the whole estate, let alone this poor soul who was sleeping just right behind them.

So at 3 a.m., this kaypoh gal woke up and joined them as they flipped through the moments of utmost joy and fun. It is always amusing flipping through the photo albums that captured our secondary school days.

Our sec. two camp was one we would never forget. Our class scored the highest points for the camp. The camaraderie and class spirit would never be fully captured on paper. You’ll have to see it to feel it. How united a class could be. We cheered our voice hoarse. Even toilet washing was a happy affair as we hummed in chorus to the tune of “There was a stream” on the third day of the camp. We trounced other classes flat. (Haha, those of you who are not from 204, sorry for this arrogance. But I guess we really felt so proud then!)

However, even the best memories fade with time. I couldn’t remember the details of the camp anymore, apart from the fact that I had a jolly good time. But i really loved that class. And our form teacher loved it enough to cry on our last day of school. Yes, imagine! I think I’m going to start blogging whatever I could remember from my secondary school days. They were certainly the best days of my life.

Kids..pesky or cute?

Quick update on my newly minted status as cher-cher-cher.
Yes! That's how students call their teachers nowadays. Not just cher but cher-cher-cher.
Last Mon and Tues attended a course on how to tackle kids in school. Proved to be extremely useful. I swear that i pulled out all the stops i learnt in class to make sure that the kids listen to me.
And guess what? I didn't smile at all for two periods of class on the first day. Neither did i smile on the second lesson. I kept a straight face all the way. (We learnt during the course that class management is the most important thing in handling a class. Once you lose it, you cannot get it back. Don't pray pray.) I stared at kids who talked. Rowdy bunch of people who think that we're at the stock exchange. They don't raise their hands when they want to speak. They roar.
But guess what? I'm better than them when it comes to roaring. Ahaha. Don't forget i'm a Leo. But it's kind of funny. You scream at them but you know that they're just a bunch of kids who cannot sit still. Perfectly normal humans. I cannot sit still for five minutes too! So after scolding them, i'm back to my normal self again. Laughin and smiling and joking.
Something that i realise. All teachers are thespian kings and queens. They really know how to act. Strangely, i think i am getting the hang of it already even though today's only my fourth day of class with them. I'm actually enjoying performing the act every time i step into the class. Haha. I know this sounds stupid but yes.
I'm only taking one class at the moment. It's a sec one normal academic class. Lovely bunch of kids. They're so responsive that at times you wish that there's some form of sedative to keep them in check. Ahaha. I'm joking. I like it the way they are. Cute, lively, cheeky, naughty.
But markin their compositions is one BIG HEADACHE!! I marked only three today and i had a headache. I spent more time trying to figure out what they're trying to say rather than marking them for grammatical errors. Hey but i'm not complaining. If their compos are superb, then they wouldn't be in school and i'll be jobless.
But i gotta say that the past week has been really busy and tiring. I didn't have much time for my piano. Sobs. That's the saddest part. I felt as though i'm losing touch with my piano again. Losing it again is almost like taking a piece of flesh from me. Sigh, but what to do? Just learn to be a juggler. No, learn to be a super-juggler. Cos i still intend to go for my lindy classes too! And blading, gossiping, playing etc.

Your friends ah?!?

Who are these people? My friends?!? Heehee, hear me out first.

Two sundays ago, i finally went to take my graduation photo with my family after much hassling by my mum. I didn't really feel like taking it. Why go through the trouble? I mean, I've already graduated for two years already! What's more, we already have one gigantic family photo hanging on our living room wall. (Think outstretched hands kind of big!!) There definitely won't be space for the new one!

Eventually, it turned out to be quite a fun family event. My mum's so excited she went for a perm before that and subsequently we found ourselves at the photo studio.

Took the individual and family shot. "Do you want to take passport photos?" With that, my sisters, bro-in-law and me lined ourselves like little kids waiting for our lollipops. Ten minutes later, everythin was done.

Conclusion: Yeah, those were the shots taken at the studio (placed in order of age. I'm the youngest. Heehee. But i noe i look kind of old lah.) We don't look alike at all, right?

The Last Time You Felt Like Dying

OK. Let me get this clear.
I’m not contemplating suicide any time soon. Neither will I in the future. Unless something drastic happens that I can no longer account for my own sanity and psychological state. (Yeah, always make a statement with a qualifier, haha)
I’m just curious: is there anyone who has never thought about dying before?
Dying as a form of escapism. You think you have a life so bad that it’s not worth living.
The last time I had this thought was aeons ago. A time so long I couldn’t remember exactly when. Probably during my secondary school days when my raging hormones put more ideas in my head than I would wish for.
But my friend thought about that very recently. How nice it would be to just die (with or without suicide) and end it all. The only thing that stopped my friend from committing the act was, ironically but thankfully, cowardice.
I’m not trying to be moralistic here. I really am not. But we really do seem to take many things in life for granted.
Are Singaporeans having too good a life? A life so good that one can think about dying because of poor academic performance. Because of broken relationships. A life so good that one becomes too selfish to think about how his death translates into living hell for his family? The guilt. The pain. The agony.
In this little, sunny island of ours, have we forgotten how much suffering there is in other parts of the world that we fret over a chipped pedicured toe?
During my final year in uni, I took a module called Conflict Reporting. Sounds cool right? My enthusiasm nose-dived when our lecturer told us that we’re supposed to cover conflicts happening in the African states.
The smart alec in me spoke: Why are we covering stories about African states? Readers are uninterested in reading about conflicts that happen miles away! (Or at least that’s what we’re told as students: proximity is a factor in determining news-worthiness)
So there we were reading about conflicts (civil & cross-border) in African states. Congo, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Burundi, etc. There were about 15 of us in the class. We each tackled a different country. Yes! There were that many wars ongoing in the African states. Some had been fighting for years. The Africans seemed not to have passed a day without blood being shed, a fight being stoked.
Humans killed in cold blood because of caste issues. Children forced to become child soldiers, dragging weighty M16s to fire at fellow Africans.
For them, opening their eyes without the deafening sounds of bullets is a blessing they will count. So is it too a blessing when they can walk along the streets without the fear of being clobbered.
While you are fighting with your sister over the remote control, the Africans are probably fighting over a piece of bread.
We certainly don’t need the misery of others to remind us how lucky we are. Yet knowing about them puts many issues in perspective.
Yes, you have it going hard for you and you certainly wish that you could be born into a different family, a different place at a different time. Say, how about Africa?

Of Thoughts & Realisations

Mdm Renee: You need to exert the right amount of pressure on each finger, use your wrist to help u achieve that. Relax your body. (Doesn’t this sound like yoga?!)

This instruction from my piano teacher, Mdm Renee, sounds simple enough. But it is three full months after I start learning from her that I finally seem to begin to understand what her words mean. To be able to put her words into actions finally is priceless. Not that I’m any good at it yet. In fact, I’m far from it. But to be able to experience that feeling is good enough for me, for now.

Mdm Renee: Don’t try to play fast. Just aim to make sure that every note sounds clear. When you can achieve that, you can play songs you want. It’s like walking. When you know how to walk, do you need people to teach you how to run?

Amidst my anxiety, impatience and eagerness to start on the diploma syllabus soon (building on my foundation again, so the diploma syllabus will have to wait) I seem to have forgotten that the journey is more important than the destination. So much so that I let my ego get the better of me. It’s a very humbling experience, knowing that you’re not as good as you think you are and that you still have a long way ahead. Now, I’m playing my scales at the speed of a Grade 5, I think. But it’s ok. I’ve learnt to enjoy the crisp notes that I’m producing at that speed.

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“The demise of journey. Can one ever get it back, if everyone has one to begin with?”
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I used to enjoy shopping. But now it’s a dread. Because it seems that that only things I get from shopping are a backache and sore legs.

“I’m in serious need of clothes and I really need to get them by today.” That’s it. It seems that every time I think that way, chances are I’ll never get my shopping done!

Was shopping around for decent pants and blouses to wear to school when I saw this lovely gown. A gown so lovely you know you’ll lose sleep over it if you do not try it on. (Haha. Exaggeration lah. Please don’t think I’m so frivolous.) So I did. Fabulous. But the fabulous dress had a not-so-fabulous price tag of $119. Of course I did the sensible thing. To buy it…not. But trying on something so beautiful just made me ecstatic.

Then it struck me that I had forgotten how to enjoy the journey again. Shopping used to be fun because I tried on clothes for the hell of it.

“All right. Stop thinking that you’ll need to get your shopping done. Just shop!”

With that, my sluggish mood turned bullish. Grabbed practically anything that I felt like trying on. The two white dresses from Yin & Yang looked great on me too! Sigh, if only I have money to burn!

I managed to get two pair of pants and a blouse. Not bad. But yesterday’s shopping was one of the best I had in ages. Quite simply because I learnt to enjoy it, all over again.

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“In our society where the Internet bestows us with almost instant gratification, we seem to require constant reminders on enjoying the journey.”
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Thump thumper thumpest

I'm definitely not thinking straight now because I'm a walkin cigarette. A literal smokin airhead after a nite out at thumper, the club situated at Goodwood Park Hotel.
My hair smells bad and my brain's not working after my second trying-to-stay-awake-for-whole-nite exercise this week. (Pardon me if i sound nonsensical in this entry. I'm not very sane now) That's what i hate most about clubbing: the smell of of cigarette smoke just follows you like a ghost, invisible but ever omnipresent. ( I talked as though I've had an encounter b4 huh??! Nope! And i certainly don't wish for one in spite of that rather perverse excitement that might bring) I swear that three days of hard shampooing hardly alleviates the problem. There's always an urge to do a Demi Moore in J.I. Jane for at least those three days.
And the next day after clubbing, you're just a zombie who cannot tell your p's from q's, burps from slurps.
So why torment myself by clubbing? Hmmm...mayb there's just some inexplicable attraction to it. To lose myself in the music, to see the wild side of friends whom you usually deem prim & proper. To basically just PARTYYY and have fun without inhibitions -- something that we can ill-afford in our everyday adult lives.
Yesterday's partying with Yeng and J was fun, albeit a tad too short, cos the DJ played primarily hip-hop from 1:30?? onwards. I'm not much of a hip-hop person, at least when it comes to clubbing. Pops are great and retros are heavenly. Yes, I'm a Mambo gal! Five straight hours and I'll still be clamouring for more!!
But i've got to say that the live band was great, churning out hits from the 80's and 90's. One of the singers, a Papa Bear lookalike, was amusingly entertaining with his not-so-groovy dance steps and way-too-cheesy hand poses. BUT i need to give him credit. He succeeded in making me laugh and hypnotising me to follow his dance steps and poses. Talk about voodoo and paper effigy!! I must have gone crazy!!
Or maybe it's the flu. It certainly cannot be that one glass of vodka lime. (Yes, staying away from liquor for the time being cos of the flu.) Or maybe it's the company. Yeng and J are such great companions that i just want to have crazy fun. With or without that loud throbbing music.
Yesterday was my last attempt at decandence before school starts. My, am i going to relish the thought of doing it again soon.

The day of deafening silence

Make sure you keep a straight face for a week. So that the kids know that you're not someone to mess around with.
And so the advice went. So that's what i'll be doing on my first day of school.
I finally know which school I'm posted to. Boon Lay Sec. When MOE says they'll let you know one week beforehand, take them seriously. They really keep to that tight time-frame very well. Rather parsimonious when it comes to giving trainee teachers like us more time to prepare for the syllabus, i thought.
Can't they tell us which level we'll be teaching maybe two weeks in advance? I mean I've not touched Chemistry for a good seven years. Alarm bells should be ringing for them. Are they really thinking that i can wear the hat and perform the act without drawing flak?
I'm not a magician!
And I'm certainly not some chemical that you can pour into a test-tube, mix with another chemical and jot down immediately "Effervescence and white ppt observed. Gives a "pop" when a burning wooden splinter is inserted into test-tube."
Okay, not a good analogy. I'm trying too hard, but i think you get the drift.
All right. Enough of complaining.
Just bought an English grammar book from Kino. Cost me a freakin 34 bucks. But it's a good investment. I don't think it's a good idea to teach the kids the wrong stuff. Or rather, I'm don't want to be remembered as the "teacher who taught the wrong things". I'll be scarred for life.
Next week -- my final week of freedom -- i'll need to do some shopping. I'll need new pairs of shoes, probably a few pairs of trousers.
My existing ones are too fitting for my comfort, knowing that i'll have forty pairs of eyes staring at my back when i'm writing on the whiteboard.
I'll try to be conservative in dressing. Hee.

Are you a B+?

Does anyone know of any people of B+ blood types?
It's to save a life.

People We Love to Hate Yet Hate to Love

Ww asked me why i've not blogged for some time.

Maybe because i know that if i do, i'll probably be slamming men. Lambasting them for their deeds, their infidelity, selfishness and others of that ilk.

Somehow, I've made a promise to myself to make my blogs as light-hearted and cheery as possible, so that whoever stumbles upon my blogs will feel happier after reading them. But i guess that'll be a futile attempt to conceal the fact that i'm a human. Specifically, a woman that is capable of feeling and reacting to the happiness and sadness out there.

These few months seem to be the season for breakups. Breakups and no makeups. No getting together. To know how some friends have been circling at the bottomless, dark pits of emotions gets my blood pressure shooting. Knowing them to be wonderful beings, watching them getting stuck in relationship quagmires simply makes me feel so sad for them. But angry at them and for them at the same time. How can pretty, young things shrivel beyond recognition? To lose their sense of being, their sense of worth, over men who are simply worse than assholes?

I fail to comprehend that. Or maybe I've always only been an audience, not a player, to fully understand that paradoxical, oxymoron-ic bittersweet pain that relationships bring. For them to willingly suffer the anguish, hurt and pain. How much worse can it get to hear a married woman say this:"I think i'm paying some sort of penance by marrying him"?

Maybe i've many more close gal friends than guy friends. Hence explaining why I've only been hearing the sob stories involving betrayals of the fairer sex. After hearing them, i shudder thinking: are there good men out there? Should i still hold on to the faith that someday, I'll be able to find a good man to share my life?

I think i'm born a pessimist. However, I'm a nurtured optimist. J once said that he's not a pessimist but a failed optimist. Hate as i to admit, that phrase seems to make more and more sense to me. Is that inborn pessimist finally going to usurp the place of that nurtured optimist in me? I shudder again.

BUT YET, i know that there's always hope. Seeing so many lovey-dovey couples out there, surely I should hold on to the belief that love exists.

Everywhere.

But not that instant noodle kind of love, please. Twangy at the first bite but turning softer than soft after just ten minutes.

Like to hear my very logical explanation of why there's always hope to finding a good man? Well, you see, I happen to be a good woman. LOL. (Gonna be shameless about this here. Ahaha) So are my many other good gal friends. So if there are still so many good women out there, there must still be a proportionate number of good men out there right? All the men out there: raise your hands if you agree with me on that!