Celebrity Collage 3

MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Geneology - Vintage photos

Hmmm strangely enough I seem to score high on the Northeast Asian types. LSB is going to have a fit. I think some of these rank high in his idol list. Ah what can I say? I'm very cute.

Celebrity Collage 2

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity - Collage - Morph

Celebrity Collage 1

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity - Collage - Morph

A dash of hope

I might as well come right out and say it, since so many of you know already - I'm finally doing what everyone said I would do in the end.

Ok, so it's been a secret too long, and I just can't bring myself to say it out loud. Shoot me. The rest of this post should make it obvious anyway.

In the course of doing what everyone said I would do, I went back to one of the old papers I wrote during my undergrad, and I was truly, truly ultra-genuinely shocked by the standard of the paper. I know it seems like I'm blowing my own trumpet announcing this on my blog, but I don't think anyone realises what a basketcase I am when it comes to academia, and therefore nobody truly realises what a shock this is to me.

For emphasis: BASKETCASE.

I've always been an insecure, neurotic nutcase when it comes to academia. I have never felt I was good enough, despite what my lecturers have told me. It is for this reason that I've always felt somewhat ambivalent about my grades.

I think maybe some part of me still retains that slacker/ invisible student/ hated by all teachers identity I had throughout my teenage years. I recall fondly when I had to apply for the humanities scholarship, all 3 of my secondary school humanities teachers refused to write a recommendation for me. I remember especially clearly my History teacher expressing doubts about my ability, and then asking how I did for my history prelims. To which I replied '93/100'. (Yes, I remember the exact figure till now.) She was not convinced by my score however, and after muchos begging, I managed to hound my Geography teacher into recommending me for a History-Literature course. I suppose it was revenge for not participating at all in my classes, and basically ignoring my teachers as best I could (and I was better at my humanities too. I can only imagine what my Maths & Science teachers thought of me.) But you see, that's how it's supposed to work. That's how the teachers and I hang. I quietly ignore them and they quietly detest my pretty ass. That's the way the world works.

Anyway, back to the main point. I've always taken any compliments I received in the course of my studies with a huge pinch of salt. How could it be that I deserved any of it? I was fairly convinced that all my lecturers were delusional or they didn't mean what they said, or maybe they just didn't expect much from their students, and I was always scared of being exposed for the fraudster that I thought I was. It was partly for this reason that at times I just felt miserable. I was carrying on in academia, pushed forward by the momentum of grades, encouragement and people's expectations, but not believing that I could progress much further. I mean, how long more before somebody pointed out my abject ignorance of what I was supposed to specialise in? And this was also partly why I wanted out. The pressure and emotional rollercoaster I went through was just too much for me. I didn't believe any of it - the encouragement, the compliments, the future in academia.

I don't know if that old paper of mine is accurate or true in any way, I truly don't. But I can say now that the level of sophistication (or sophistry, if you like) is not something I would expect from an undergraduate, or even a Masters student. I cannot believe that I wrote that paper. I remember I was very stressed out by that paper. This was a paper meant to be completed in a semester, and I remember that by the mid-term break, when my supervisor still hadn't received a proposed topic from me, he called me up and asked me if I would like to withdraw from the module. In the end I managed to convince him that I could finish the paper, and, as is usual for me, rushed the paper in a day. (that was just the writing of course. The research was done, albeit a little hastily, before.) When my supervisor returned the paper to me, he told me that he believed he couldn't have written a paper like that when he was a student. I didn't quite shrug that comment off, being absolutely flabbergasted that he could think so highly of a hastily put together argument that was full of holes and of doubtful veracity. But I was convinced that he probably knew too little about the topic, or was just being nice. Basically my reaction was 'Yeah sucker!' (Ok I pray my lecturers never read my blog.)

Now I have to say I agree with him. At the risk of sounding like I have an ego the size of North America, I have to say that I don't think any of my classmates could have written a paper of that level of sophistication in that little time (with that little knowledge, I might add). In fact, I have never seen another undergraduate paper that showed an equivalent level of analysis. That paper was like advanced-level intellectual kama sutra. I sound like an ass, but I genuinely think it was that good. Again, I have to emphasise that what I am so obviously impressed by is not the accuracy of the paper, or the truths revealed by my brilliant analysis (haha) but the level of sophistication (i.e. it might be bullshit but it is damn good bullshit).

So now I'm thinking, maybe I deserved all of it. Maybe even if I don't have the ability yet, I have the potential to pursue a career in academia. Maybe I can be successful academically, even if that might not mean professional success. Maybe it's just about finding the confidence and motivation and drive and environment in which I can do well. Maybe it's all possible, perhaps not this year, but maybe next year, or the year after that, or some year down the road. Ya' know?

And that means so much to me.

A perfect morning

It's one of those mornings with a good-tempered rain and light, cool breezes and chirping birds (strangely enough) and an all-the-earth-is-verdant-and-growing vibe AND that happens to be a public holiday. It's the kind of morning you stretch luxuriously and wake and look out of your window into the garden with the flowering shrubs and birds jumping in and out of tiny puddles and think, damn I need more Mozart in my music collection. In fact, it's the kind of morning for which this would be the perfect accompaniment:



Just look at how happy the pianist is!

A people's dream

This is Black Elk, speaking of the massacre at Wounded Knee:

"I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream.

And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth, — you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead."

Christmas is coming!

I was in town today, and realised that Christmas is coming! I love Christmas! (even though I don't get presents from my family etc) I love all the glitzy commercialism and consumerism (and I really mean this), all the spending of cash and blood and sweat and toil!

I have Hayley Westenra's 1st album, and I am immensely in love with this song:



Christmas is such a nostalgic season. It feels so festive and yet a little sad at the same time.

I'm also at a slightly depressing spot in my music collection. First it was this:



Christmas is not a good time to feel lonely. I love this song! It's so melancholy and chilly and er, lonely, it practically sucks the life force out of you and leaves you deflated and feeling somewhat grey.

And then my playlist went to this next song, which was about the only highlight of Jay's flop of a show:



I love this version of the song. So retro, and so listen-able.

Zhao Ziyang

(T_T)

It's just one of those days of neurotic self-doubt and lack of direction. Or rather, I feel pulled in so many directions, and I'm not sure why I'm choosing one direction over another anymore. I feel as if I'm setting myself up for a big big fall and plenty of regrets.

There, an emo post for you to chew on. Don't say I don't have inner struggles :P

Yawnz

I stayed up to watch the whole Tiananmen documentary on Youtube, so I finally have a detailed version of what happened. Main impression is that the students were passionate but horribly naive and ignorant, probably imbued with the sense of immortality that youths always possess. They were rebelling against the government, but still believed in the inherent goodness of their government.

And yes, I watched Painted Skin, and thought it was good.

Just in case anyone didn't realise...

... what a hugely monumental change it is to have an African American as the President of the United States.

This is a website with a collection of postcards and photographs of lynchings in the US. Not all of the victims depicted are black, but you will notice that most were.

And now, just look at this. Would you just look at that.



No wonder the Kenyans are celebrating. Can you imagine being seen as the poor and destitute and backwards (or worse) for centuries, and then suddenly have one of your own become the leader of the most powerful country in the world?

It's just freaking amazing.

*brain explodes*

Sarasate Zigeunerweisen (damn that was hard to spell)

This version on the erhu:



This version on the violin (Heifetz):

feverish brain

I'm running a high fever, so forgive whatever rambling might occur. Had no choice but to take work MC today, and cancel TWO(!!!!!) driving lessons... when my test is on Monday! I'm not even sure I can make it for the test *whines* But feverish semi-delusional zombified me in a car? Not good idea.

Anyway, I love this - 50 of your favourite words. It reminds me of this poetry class I took in my 1st year. The tutor would have all these oldish poems with obscure words, and every week before class we were supposed to look up the meanings of these words and there'd be a quiz during class. And of course I never bothered, so during the class quiz I'd make up definitions, most of them quite fantastical and fairly specific. Things like 'a rare carnivorous plant found in the southern regions of Spain that devours only the red-legged mosquito', or 'a form of wood carving, thought to be invented by the Aztecs as part of their ritual lunar sacrifices'. It was such a laugh. My tutor never said anything, but he had such a despondent look everytime he handed me my marked (and failed) quiz. He must have hated me to bits man. Hell that class was fun.

I've been sleeping all day. Should go back to sleep.

More Damien Rice

Ok, I HAD to put this here. I think I've fallen really hard this time...

The Blower's Daughter



I'm so in love with this music, I can't bear to sleep even though I'm really sleepy hehe... The music is so lovely! Today's been such a wonderful day, even though I slept through most of it. But the parts when I was awake were wonderful... This morning I managed to drag myself out of bed and when straight to my piano to play a very incoherent but very rapid and adrenaline pumping 3rd movement, moonlight sonata. Very very very thrilling. I swear it's immensely addictive and exciting, I don't know how I'll ever live without my piano. Almost nothing gets my pulse racing as fast haha... I love it when the music fills my head; it's almost as if I'm entirely animated by the music. And now I know I sound like an idiot, and it's really time for me to go to bed :P

Totally in love again

This is Damien Rice, my newfound love.

Volcano:



Delicate (which House used before, so even if you haven't heard of Damien Rice before, you might still find it familiar):

Sarah Palin Disney trailer

Trailer of Disney movie featuring Sarah Palin the soccer mum who becomes President of the USA.

重色轻友

Late at night, in a car parked a deserted carpark lighted dimly by streetlights, with the rain pouring and this song playing -



And all of a sudden I wished it was LSB sitting beside me.

But it was still very fun lar, and got quite high haha.

Irish Airman and Rubaiyat and some thoughts on music

Irish Airman (Yeats_ has been a long-time favourite of mine, and LSB just introduced me to the Rubaiyat. I suppose if I pick out the stanzas in Rubaiyat, and stick them together with Irish Airman, they'd together articulate my interpretation of (and extrapolation from) both poems.

The similarities:

Irish Airman:

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan's Cross
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor;
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.


Rubaiyat:

VII.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

X.

With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.

XI.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

XXVIII.

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

XXIX.

Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

XXXVIII.

One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan
Starts for the dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!

XXXIX.

How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

XLV.

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

LII.

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to IT for help--for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

And these stanzas, just for the heck of it:

L.

The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!

LI.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

LVII.

Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

LVIII.

Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!

LXIII.

None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

The sentiment expressed in Irish Airman is so dear to my heart that the wanton use of the lines sans understanding of the sentiment feels to me very much like a prostitution of Yeats' poem *ahem looking at you*.

Anyway, I think that sometimes I love poems not for their content, but for the way they sound to my ears. As such, my appreciation of poetry is more like my appreciation for classical music & jazz than my appreciation of most contemporary pop. I look for balance and structure and symmetry and reflection and placement of words, and ideas are mostly secondary. Irish airman is probably one of the most symmetrical poems I know.

Hmmm I've always associated poetry with music.

If say I listened to the melody of most contemporary pop first without being exposed to it through participation in it (e.g. in ktv, where I learned most of my Mando-pop), I'd probably wince at the crudeness of the structure and the very very maudlin melodies. But that same crudeness makes it easy to listen to when I'm just not feeling up to it. And of course they're easy to sing, and I think the ability to participate in music-making is one of the most significant factors in our appreciation of music because the participation gives us an outlet for creative energies and allows us an active (if somewhat unconscious) exploration of the structure and nuances of the music. Which is why I also think that it is very very difficult for someone to fully understand and appreciate music if he doesn't actually play an instrument or sing.

Maybe I'm just a snob.

That said, some classical melodies are horribly icky as well. Yes, Sadie's Gymnopedies. *shudder*

Ok, enough of this stream of consciousness thing.

closing

I'm slightly preoccupied these days, and have actually lost the urge to blog. Actually, gist of this is I won't be blogging here for some time. I might not blog here again. That happens pretty often, I must say, this moving blogs thing. But this lasted quite long for me, so it was a pretty good run. Well, if I start up again, maybe I'll tell the 345,802 people who like reading my nonsense.

Dance

Goodness knows I'm not a dance person, and the best thing about my dance moves is I'm forever forgetting them. (My apologies to anyone who's had to dance on stage with me before. I know it's embarrassing.) But this is probably the only dance routine I've ever fallen in love with -



It's apparently a dance about a hummingbird and a flower, and as corny as that sounds, damn it's good.