Thursday, December 30, 2004

trust.

Once broken and betrayed, is there no turning back?

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

postlude.

I was going to sleep early but I ate cup noodles at half three in the morning. Can't sleep on a full stomach cuz I'd get even fatter. There goes my early bedtime.

Really knackered from shopping and spending money that I don't have. Extra stressful. I'm inclined to blabber on about the fantastic sales at Selfridges (the long queues snakeing outside Gucci!), and the car stuffed full of bags from Next, how much fun Jo and I had, the story of three black she-bears fiercely shunting me aside in their fervent quest for Topshop jeans, and all the stuff I bought which I've to return cuz there're ONE SIZE TOO SMALL...

But everything seems inconsequential aft the earthquake. Enough has been said about it, and my thoughts are echoed in Jo's blog.

Anyway, here's a pic of my boots which Jo helped me pick out. Knee-high flat boots. 35quid down from 70, Faith/Topshop!

Pardon the amateur shot, ignore the green chair and Morrison's plastic bags, and tell me what you guys think!

Just woke up the day after. And you know what? No matter what you guys say, I'm going to keep the boots. Heh.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

0845hrs.

There is no way I'd be up this early in the morning, except for the following three reasons:

1. I woke up to eat.

2. I've been up all night doing work.

3. .....BOXING DAY SALES!!!

And yes, it's that time of the year again! I repeat: BOXING DAY SALES!!!

Student card and HSBC Debit card? Checked. Brolly to poke overzealous shoppers out of the way? Checked.

Mum and Dad's credit cards? Checked. Ha.

Okay, I'm ready to go. Topshop, here I come!

Saturday, December 25, 2004

go ma-nu, it's your birthday...

Happy 21st Birthday to Emmanuel!!!

Best wishes for a new year ahead, remember to eat your food. And the cake.

A very Merry Christmas to one and all.

Friday, December 24, 2004

"1 day to Christmas, my true love gave to me.."

Did you guys know that you can actually put on weight on your fingers?

There was this ring which used to slip off my forefinger. It's really pretty, blue and green and really shiny. This was one month ago.

Now, it's so tight that rolls of fat from my finger actually bulges out around the ring, and it took me a helluva effort to get it off.

I should stop snacking. *reaches for my maltesers*

In due time anyway. Ha.

I really, really, really want to eat kung ba bao now. Gimme some. NOW.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

oh woe is me pt 2

My essay's in! 2686 words. I could have written tons more. Ah well.

I originally wanted to rant and rave about 'The Latest Exploits of Lynne the Queen of Procrastination', or 'The Consequences of being Lazy', or something along these lines. And how I'd never, never do it again. I'll pass up my work on time and I'd never put anything off to the last minute.

But guess what? I kept procrastinating this post, and after just a few days of pampering myself with sleep, junk food, manga, anime, books, and bumming around (hey, it sounds like daily school life), I've just lost all steam. Now, it seems like such a huge chore to blog about how dreadful my essay torture was. After all, a descriptive narration of how I handed it up isn't very interesting.

Okay okay, I'm just lazy.

I have to say thanks to Yang'en though, he ran all the way with me from halls to the photocopying shop, and helped me zap thousands and thousands of printed music, so I could cut and paste my musical examples.

That Friday, I came home and slept from about 530pm all the way till 1pm on Saturday. I woke up twice to eat, and went back to sleep. Yup, I was THAT knackered.

I found myself at Richmond that day, playing the keyboard for a carolling concert with my classmates. Lots of embarrassing stuff happened but let's not go into detail. (Jo, think 'black'! *cringes*)

Anyway. As I'd mentioned, it was a carolling concert. There were abt 10 singers and Simon was conducting. They sang most of the carols which I'd played for ACJC Choir back home. Exactly the same score. I think they were taken from the same book. It was really bizarre playing them again in such a different environment. (On a keyboard without pedal! Oh the horror) Would you believe I even made the same mistakes at the same places?!

Nothing had changed. And yet, everything was changed.

It was awfully nostalgic and poignant. Nelle, Jenny and the rest sang really, really well. Too well in fact, that must had been the reason why I found the back of my eyes unbearably hot halfway through 'Dreamin' of a White Christmas'.

And once more, once more, I wished I was back home for Christmas.

It's funny how solitary and alone one can feel amidst a crowded hall filled with warmth, joy and laughter.

I shall stop here before I sound like a pathetic homesick lovelorn fool. Or am I too late already? Whatever.

Oh welllllll! Here are some pictures which I never got to upload. i.e. too lazy:

Of cuz, that's Jing, me and Jess at the top of Effiel Tower. Omg, Paris seemed like such a long time ago.

Tania came down a fortnight ago, and we met for dinner. Weiye was our dear photographer that night:

This was taken at Piccadilly Circus, and that's Regent Street behind us. You can't see from the pictures, but the theme of the Christmas lights on that street are on "The Incredibles". And pardon my puffy cheeks, it's winter after all!

I'm off to bed. I'm no longer young and my body is no longer what it was.

Fleeting thought: what you never had, you never miss.

Friday, December 17, 2004

oh woe is me part 1

I'm never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never...

... going to do last minute work again.

I actually passed up a work that had something along the lines of:

"The genesis of Debussy's opera Pelleas et Melisande took on a span of nine long years, and was completed in 18 something something. Based on Maeterlinck's Symbolist play, it was premiered at the Paris Opera-Comique on blah blah blah blah 1902."

It was either public humiliation in the form of my tutor thinking I'm a complete ditz-head, or a big fat zero for my course.

If I'm my tutor, I wouldn't even use my draft for toilet paper.

Going to sneak into school to try and swop it with a proper essay. After I finish it of course. I've 1500 words to go.

To be continued.

Monday, December 13, 2004

and i thought fantasies were just a fantasy.

I was down at dinner, digging into second helpings of calorie and carb-laden pasta, when Vincent told us:

"Do you know that a 12-year-old boy raped his school teacher during lunch remedial?"

Oooh, the scandal.

Uhhh. I meant:

"How horrible!"

And here's the relevant article taken from BBC homepage:

Pupil charged with teacher rape

"A 12-year-old boy has been charged with the rape of a teacher in County Durham, police have confirmed.

The incident is alleged to have happened at an address in the County Durham force area on 29 November.

The woman claims she was raped by a boy while providing personal tuition. He is then alleged to have taken her car, later found abandoned in Gateshead.

The boy is due before South Durham Magistrates charged with rape and theft of a vehicle at a later date."

The whole sordid incident reminded me of a typical Jap hentai porn scene. You have the usual school setting, a teacher and a student. Throw in a uniform. Age or sex is immaterial. The more the participants (willing or unwilling), the merrier it would be.

Just that in hentai, it always ends after consummation. Also, I don't think it ever proceeds to the stage of 'what happens next'. I'm not an expertise on hentai, (I don't like it) but I'm sure things like the victim's car being stolen by the rapist never ever happens.

Which brings me to the point that it is quite a sobering realization at times, that these hentai/porn stuff aren't just outlandish fantasies and weird fetishes dreamt up by horny goats. These things do happen in real life. And it is awful for the victim to be forced against his/her will. The physical and emotional trauma of rape is not easily overcome.

That being said, what on earth is wrong with kids these days? When I was 12, I was a complete ditz-head about sex, to the point that I firmly believed that the guy had to be older than the girl to indulge in sexual intercourse. And that it was a prerequisite. The next being: it had to be done lying on the bed.

Anyway.

I feel awful for the female teacher. Her only fault was that she was far, far too kind to a disobedient randy boy, and that she carried her car keys with her.

Wherever she is, I hope she'd get through this ordeal somehow.

p.s. This boy is an absolute terror. It just struck me that he is able to drive a car properly at the tender age of 12. Kids these days.

Saturday, December 11, 2004

dangerous expectations.

Tsk tsk. That stupid bloke.

That aside, I love this picture. It's self-explanatory.

It got me thinking about expectations as a whole, and I wish I didn't expect anything from anyone. And that no one expects anything of me.

Even more so, I wish I didn't expect anything from myself.

You know how it is, the list is endless. Such as an expected 1.1 for my degree, playing the piano 'well' (a point to be debated upon), being a 'nice' person, always having a plastered grin on my face... Whatever.

To expect something from someone, is to set yourself up for inevitable disappointment. For none of us can ever, truly, be completely satisfied. And our standards are set even higher for our close friends and loved ones. Sort of: affection/love and expectations being directly proportional to each other.

[Just think about all the times you've been stewing over simply because you felt someone else SHOULD have done this, or said that? Just because you would do the same thing in their position, doesn't mean that they would react the same way as you do.]

Then again, we expatiate on others' shortcomings but we're compulsively blind to our own. Expectations of us are unfulfilled as our exclusive egos compel us instinctively to put Self before Others.

i.e. I cover my own arse and to hell with everything else.

Thing is, I hate having unconsciously set expectations of other people. I don't want to, but I do. It's annoying. It's even worse when the spotlight falls on you. I feel like I'm being sentenced and judged in a court without any hearing whatsoever. Except I'm guilty. Tit for tat.

Maybe, just maybe, there'll come a day where we'll learn not to set any yardsticks for anyone. Just drop it. Then we'd be free of all preconceived notions, and just live, and accept one another for who we are.

Especially ourselves.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

imaginative, idiomatic and inventive.

I don't think I've heard any of these adjectives starting with the letter 'I' for a long time now.

The last I heard was 'idiotic', 'irrational', and even 'inelegant'. (Who even says 'inelegant' these days?)

Well, it's time to get down to my intriguing and simply invigorating notes from my Debussy lectures.

If I can find them anyway.

I think I made it to at least three lectures this term.

I wonder if attendance counts towards my final grades.

Hmmmm.

Oh, and here's a note to Jason: I hope you sort things out w e Dean. Didn't mean to get you into trouble!! =/

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Didn't go to Dpt Party, feeling a lil' under the weather.

And came to the slow realization that term ends in 10 days.

This means I only have approximately 7 more months left in London, before I head home to Singapore-the-land-of-impossibly-scrawny-chicks.

For good.

Where does the time go?

I miss London already.

Monday, December 06, 2004

baffling sights.

I'm tired from practising piano. Especially when there's no improvement.

So I found myself hanging out with Joanne and Marcus, bitching and watching anime (Samurai Champloo!) till 3 in the morning. And fishing around in the rainbow box of Maynard Wine Gums for the black-coloured ones.

I wonder why blackcurrent-flavoured Wine Gums are not sold in a packet on its own. Nobody really likes eating the rest of the multi-coloured sweets.

That aside, I made a special trip to take a look at the discarded toilet bowl which Jo mentioned on her blog.

And holy shit! There really was a decrepit, yellow-stained toiletbowl at the staircase of Yorke Wing, Canterbury Hall. I kid you not. It even had scattered brown flecks on it.

It's really the most outlandish sight I've seen for the longest time.

Unless you count the 2min segment of Jay Chou I watched on Brit telly yesterday.

And the totally, TOTALLY fit guy (on par with Brad Pitt) I saw in the tube on Sat, carrying Gucci paper bags and wearing a hairband.

As well as the impossibly large digits that the weighing machine screamed out in bright red. This, despite me being stark naked. That was on Fri. I haven't dared to weigh myself since then.

It's the Music Dept's party tmr, and I think I'd probably see even more bewildering sights. Visual perception tends to be a trifle skewed when you're pissed drunk.

Till then, stay tuned.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Extracted from A Dream Play

The song of the winds

Earth is not clean
life is not good
Men are not evil
nor are they good
They live as they can
a day at a time
The sons of dust
in dust must wander
Born of dust
to dust they return
they were given feet to plod
Not wings.
Is the fault theirs
or yours?

August Strindberg

Friday, December 03, 2004

aching forearms.

I can't fail.

No matter what, I cannot fail.

Somehow, I have to pull through this.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Is there anything that is more moving and evocative than music itself?

A (deceptively) simple Mozart piano sonata is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

As I listen to the A minor K. 310 performed by Mitsuko Uchida (no relation to Uchida Sasuke in case you were wondering, but both Uchidas are obscenely talented), I try to grasp for words in an attempt to convey the sheer beauty of each suspension and appogiatura but nothing comes forth. I turn to my Schenker paper and break it down to its little motifs and the Urlinie, but it still doesn't explain why.

Why do my emotions reflect that of the music? Why the sense of home at a perfect cadence?Why the lurch of the heart at this moment?

But I don't really want an answer. Doing your TYS is never quite the same with the answers available at the back of the book. I think it's better that the elusive spirit of music will continue to remain an unfathomable mystery to music analysts and musicians alike.

For that is precisely what makes music so magical.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.