teachers’ day

This teachers’ day, I headed to my alma mater to visit the people of whose efforts today was supposed to be in rememberance of. Unfortunately, the fact that the celebrations at Henry Park took rather too long for my liking meant that I got to see only three or four of my previous educators, and even then only very briefly.

After all that, about twelve of my old mates and I went to the canteen, chatted, sat around, and decided on our next course of action. Next thing we knew, we were headed to Cathay to catch WallE. WallE was much, much better than the previous movie I had watched, namely, The Mummy. WallE’s underlying messages leave much to be thought about.

And then after the movie, we stood outside Dhoby Ghaut MRT like a bunch of tramps, took half an hour to decide on where to head next, and ended up at Jurong Community Centre to play table tennis. Good fun it was.

After that was dinner and a bus ride home, thus ending one of my most productive weekday activities (I kid not).

another test

some test thing

engleeesh

Prelims are under way. Today’s English paper was generally okay. If anything was dubious it had to be the fact that we were given a hundred minutes to complete the comprehension paper, when a figure closer to sixty would have sufficed. I literally smelled fish from the time I finished my paper till the end of the allotted time. Like, I was checking to see if there were hidden questions or passages, or maybe obscured parts to questions. Alas, my searches bore no fruition. That meant that I had completed my paper a full hour ahead of schedule. That also meant that I spent more time sleeping than attempting to answer questions. Dodgy omens perhaps?

“choh!”

When one watches a sportsman playing his activity of profession, one is usually amazed by the feats said sportsman can accomplish; the things that he can do that others dream of doing; the ease and efficiency with which he does those things. Wang Hao of China is, according to the appropriate and relevant ranking system, the world’s best male table tennis player. Current statistics attest to the fact that no man on the face of this planet can claim to be superior to this person at ping pong. Yet, I find it a displeasure to watch his table tennis games, despite that he admittedly does possess the skill and talent that a world number one should.

Why do I have issues about seeing the premier paddler of Planet Earth play table tennis? Well, I actually do not mind seeing him, if I were to be absolutely nit-picky with myself. However, the fact that he lets out a long, loud, obnoxious “Chaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” after every point he wins irks me a fair bit. Most table tennis players, and indeed most sportsmen, have a way of encouraging oneself, or putting off the opponent (or both) after maybe every successful venture, every point put on the board. Maybe quite often, this form of encouragement manifests itself as an approving grunt, an assuring nod, even an exclamation. However, I have never heard people greet every point the way Wang Hao does. The fact that he’s world number one means he will gain a lot of points in each match he plays, and that thus makes for aural torture.

I therefore and thus do not claim any distaste for watching Wang Hao playing his best sport; rather, I will say I dislike his reaction to scores.

moved!

And so my few days of griping at wooden cupboards, whining at bags and books, blowing my top off at crockery and cutlery, and grousing at furniture has come to an end. Or at least, will come to an end in about a couple of hours, when I’m done packing my new room and stuff.

I haven’t been able to post these past few days due to academic pursuits (who am I kidding?) as well as aforementioned packing. My computer hasn’t been at its most cooperative either.

I like my room. There’s a pool view.

I like my room. The door’s white.

I like my room. The airconditioner is just above the door.

And as the previous three statements might suggest, I’m going a bit nuts. I could attribute this madness to my sheer relief at not breaking my arm bones carrying all those fucking heavy boxes from floor to floor, vehicle to elevator, and door to room. So I shall.

long long cock talking

Tonight my dad arrives home from China, and in a couple weeks he’ll be heading back there, barring a miracle or a disaster (I pray hard it is not the latter).

My old man’s occupation, along with several of his previous positions of employment, give me much to ponder. Such as what the government has long been saying. The big shots in the upper echelons of Singaporean hierarchy have long yapped about having measures to ensure that people slightly grey of hair but nevertheless still competent have a fair shot at appropriate employment. In other words, that would mean they SAY they give a hoot about the welfare of the elder members of the potential workforce. However, the situations of my old man and literally thousands of old men speak very much of the contrary. People of their age (who aren’t bosses, retired, tycoons or lottery winners) are having to send in job applications to every single company that might offer the scantest hint of choice employment, only to have their offers rebuffed due to ‘professional reasons’ and the like.

I’m not sympathising with people or anything. Neither am I being angry simply because parties relevant to me are involved in this matter. I’m just contemplating about the correlation between this situation and the aging population Singapore has – does that mean that, disregarding another influx of overseas ‘talent’, local unemployment numbers will actually be on the up? It scares me to think so.

It, too, scares me to think that my prelims are in a week and all I’ve started working on is Chemistry and Physics. Talk, as they say, is unproductive. Work and action is what everyone seeks. So I suppose my taking a lengthy nap this afternoon would justify the rationale behind my preparations: If Anything, Don’t Burn Out.

showtime

The meaningful part of yesterday (i.e. the part after school) was spent watching two amazing shows.

The first of which, was Singapore’s Olympic table-tennis semis against South Korea. I spent over three hours glued to the television set, willing on the Singapore team’s players. While the fact that they could have killed the tie much earlier than when they actually did was rather annoying, take nothing away from the fact that they anyway did so.

Straight after the sports games was dinner, then on to the Guitar Ensemble concert in school. The ensemble pieces went all fine and well, but the solo, duet and trio items were the real standouts. Particularly memorable was the performance of YYZ (a song which I hadn’t heard prior) and Cliffs of Dover (a piece which up till then I had heard only once) by Mark on bass, Alvin on drums and some insane fella on guitar. Mark’s got this thing for performance; he was looking way more at ease on stage than the nonetheless amazingly skilled guitarist. Towards the end of the concert there were more of those familiar tunes like Pokemon, Harry Potter and Pirates, and the egg-shaker quartet thingy. I really enjoyed the performance.

And then I went home, took a shower, and slept.

Tonight is the Olympic track finals. I won’t miss it.

I think I finally understand chapters 21 and 22 of the Physics syllabus. Yay.

Today marked the first time I went to a police post. And before you the reader gets any weird ideas as to why I was there, I was making a ‘lost’ report simply because a certain teacher said I had to. What, you may ask, did I ‘lose’? Well, nothing actually. I only had to report a ‘loss’ because being unable to return ticket stubs to the relevant authorities despite knowing the whereabouts of said stubs is considered a loss, at least in the books of the abovementioned authorities.

The police officer was friendly and everything, but evidently quite backward in terms of command of language. His recording of my account went something like “My ticket was all washed out in the rain and my mother threw them away. i have to report a loss because the school needs it for recording purpose.” That, folks, was not a draft copy of the loss report. Ah well, as long as the message is accordingly conveyed, perfect language can be forgotten? Right i am? Ya?

Tomorrow’s the school guitar orchestra’s Festival Of Arts performance. I sort of think it’s going to be worth seeing already. My ticket waits to be torn.

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