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A promise to myself
Now, I'm not sure whether I've mentioned it before, but I'm, err, sort of a budding journalist. The problem is, I'm no good at it. I can't catch news stories, and people my age, in my school, have far, far, far more experience at covering stories than I have. My ability at angling sucks. However, these are things I'm sure I will improve at. I'm sure of it, damn it. I just hope I have the time to try. What I'm more worried about, at this level, is that my ability to write has actually dropped over the years. In secondary school and junior college, I did pretty well at English, despite having little to no theoretical understanding of the syntactical aspects of the language. I played by ear. I kept sentences short, succinct and clear. Subject verb object. Article subject adverb verb article adjective object. Simple stuff. I kept my tenses consistent. I ensured that my metaphors made sense. Somehow, during the later junior college period and during NS, I became extremely sloppy in my writing. I mixed tenses. I used flowery language. I introduced multiple subjects in a sentence. I mangled punctuation. The existence of these and a whole host of other grammatical anomalies may be detected in this blog as well. At around the same time, I made a conscious decision to adopt Singlish as the tongue that I would use whenever I thought I could get away with it. Was there a connection here? I'm not sure. I am not going to reverse that decision though, for several reasons. I enjoy the usage of Singlish in common parlance. I feel it gets across certain points in speech that Standard English does not, and there are several lexical components in Singlish that simply doesn't have an exact equivalent in English (such as blur). When I read the only article I have published in the Nanyang Chronicle thus far I blanch with shame. I have a whole cupboard full of articles stamped with C's. I know I can write better. I will write better. I need to find joy in writing again. Joy in discipline, even. It' s no good to write just to satisfy myself, I write to communicate! Self-indulgent language is indisciplined and unclear and ultimately nobody is impressed by rambling paragraphs filled with jargon. I must be wary of indulgence not only in language, but also in topic and content. I must learn not to be over-ambitious. It's good to aim high, but when there is only a space of 500 words to work with I must learn to stick to one point. I need to remember the fundamentals of journalistic writing that I learnt back in year one of university. I need to have a thread in my stories, a thread that hangs straight and true. I must not deviate from a central focus. I must always remember what the focus is, and provide examples, facts, opinions and colour that clarify this focus. I need to know what is important in a story and what is not, and to be ruthless in cutting out waste that does not answer who, what, when, where, why and how. I have to stop letting my horrid combination of pride and low self-esteem cloud my judgment on stories. Criticism shouldn't be taken personally. At the same time I need to stand up for myself if I disagree with the assessment of others. Even if I'm wrong, questioning may shed more light on my weaknesses. Even in my darkest days I had something I could hold on to: my belief that I'm a good writer. I believe that goodness is still in here, somewhere, buried deep down. I must coax it out. Without my ability to write; without my belief in journalism; without the thirst to find out what's wrong with society and the urge to tell the world what I believe; and without the hope that the printed products of my mind will grant me immortality even after my physical form has rotted away -- I have nothing at all. I am sick of mediocrity. God, if you are there, grant me the strength to pull myself out of this fucking mire.
One for my Broadcasting counterparts
"Television - a medium. So called because it is neither rare nor well-done." -- Ernie Kovacs Well I think that's rather witty!
Attitude problem sia
Oei, you quite attitude hor? How come you never say hello and never say goodbye one? You can just tok to a person, then just walk off leh. You damn fucker you. What a cunt. Bitchwad. Asshole! Nabei, next time I see you, I sure hoot you.
Greatest Curse of All
Dora: You know, the first time I did this, nobody noticed. Now nobody cares. Matt: I care. Why are you doing this? Dora: Because I was born with the greatest curse of all. Matt: What's that? Dora: I'm ugly. And I'm also very smart. Matt: You're not ugly. Dora: I know what's in store for me. No one will ever have passion for me. People all around me will be falling in love, and making love, and getting married, and having kids. The closest thing I'll ever have to that is someone inviting me to their Christmas dinner because they feel guilty I might be spending the holiday alone. Or if I'm lucky, my male counterpart, an obese man or guy with a harelip, will invite me to coffee. And we'll pretend to love each other, and tie the knot because we're so desperately afraid of growing old alone. (From the movie 100 Girls. Acquired from: Colin's Movie Monologue Page) Now I've got to find it!
I really ought to be doing work now, but I'm not
What I did today: I woke up. I brushed my teeth. I stared in the mirror. Poked at some pimples. I sat in front of the computer. Switched it on. Stared. I went downstairs. Ate lunch. Porridge. Misc veggies. Tuna. Bleah. I sat in front of the TV. I can't even remember what I watched. I went upstairs, loaded Everquest. Played Everquest. Achieved practically nothing, but time flew past. I watched TV. I ate dinner. Steamed fish! Chicken rice! Herbal soup! My fav things! I sat in front of the computer. I will eventually go to sleep. Repeat ad nauseam. Meanwhile, like a sinister technician hovering behind an unsuspecting professor, homework looms!
" Sister, Do You Know My Name? " --The White Stripes
Well we're back in school again and I don't really know anyone I really want to be your friend cause I don't really know anyone And the bus is pulling up to your house I wish you could be sitting here next to me I didn't see you at summer school but I saw you at the corner store and I don't want to break the rules cause I've broken them all before But every time I see you I wonder why I don't break a couple rules so that you'll notice me Sister do you know my name? I've heard it before but I want you to know I got a funny feeling that it's gonna work out cause now I see you sitting here next to me
NOFX - New Happy Birthday Song
Happy birthday, you're not special, You're getting older and not much better, We all want to embarrass you, That's why we're singing this song, So happy fucking birthday, You're not special, You're not special
Since I doubt anyone's reading this stuff anyway
I might as well post some pics of meself. These are all photos taken at various locations, with my bestest friends. I'm not a miserable sod all the time, you know! I might have to add some masking on my face at some point though; I don't want lawsuits from traumatized viewers (all two of you)! The 4 photos are arranged such that the most recent is on top and the oldest is at the bottom. (Why these four? Two reasons: One, I look fairly human in all of them. Two, these are like the only photos where I am smiling. That's why.) 
I'm the dork on the right. It was taken in Upstate New York, at Ausable Chasm. The dork on the left is James. 
I'm the guy in the foreground. Other guy you can see is Choonhou, in front of him is his GF Germaine. To my right is Angeline, James' GF. My head is blocking Joel. 
This was taken in France. From left to right: Me, Choonhou, James, Joel. France was the best trip I've ever had. 
The two people dressed are Choonhou and me. Can't be arsed to identify them. Soccer is about the only socializing I get. I hope you guys managed to avert your eyes in time.
The Ladder Theory of Love
Master Ladder I've no idea if that's old school or not, but that's essentially some wacko theory about how love between men and women work. I'm not sure who is sadder: the guy who wrote it or me for practically agreeing with every point!
Happy National Day, Singapore!
It's Singapore's National Day! 38 years ago we were cast out of the Malaysian union, and forced to survive on our own. Now, we're in the midst of one of our worst recessions ever, with rising tensions over Malaysia over water, terrorism looming with bombings in Indonesia, discontent over jobs going to foreigners and ever increasing transit costs. It was a good time to be alive. Perhaps we're finally at the end of a golden age as a nation state. Personally, the only thing that bugs me is that my birthday is in 8 days and nobody really cares. Of course, nobody really -knows- that it's my birthday since I'm such a private, secretive bastard, but when has a little detail like that ever stopped me from feeling sorry for myself? I haven't really written anything worth reading for quite a while. I guess it's because I can't motivate myself. I mean there are less time-consuming ways of talking to oneself...
"You wag your tail like your mother, you atavistic, compost eating, squid ravishing, discognizant heir of a misguided evangelist." You want more?
Gotta stop being a victim. Gotta stop being angry. Gotta stop being afraid. Gotta stop being insane. Gotta stop thinking. Gotta stop whining. Gotta stop fighting. Gotta stop sinking. Just gotta stop. Must stop. Will stop. But it's so damn hard.
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