Archive for September, 2006

Bad news woke me up today.

Just as well i’m heading for Decanter tonight. I think solving your problems this way is absofuckinglutely stupid, but you have to admit it does have a therapeutic effect.


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I’ve always wondered, hypothetically, what it’s like to live in a world ravaged with war. That is, when i was small, and reading stories of Mussolini, of Stalin, Lenin; Hitler and the Holocaust, Pearl Harbour. Then i grew up, and listened to stories of Vietnam; stories of the Japan occupation from my grandparents. I read Changi by James Clavell, i read Tom Clancy.

Now i know, and it sucks. Many people aren’t even aware there’s a freaking war going on over their heads, and they go on living their happy little lives being perfectly happy people, which means what you don’t know can’t hurt you after all. Except it has already hurt everyone, though they may not see or feel it just yet. So many things has changed in the last 5 years; and all reports point towards continued violence…. WWIII? And now, Russia has joined in all the merrymaking.

Anyway, on an unrelated note, why are we seeing so many school shootings in the US recently? Could it be because though its been so many years after Columbine, nothing has changed?

Or, i have been less then attentive, and the shootings has never actually stopped.

Damnit, world news always makes me down. There’s no good news anymore, anywhere.

I feel there’s something wrong with this post, like maybe i missed out something or failed to write it properly, but i can’t be bothered to find out what exactly..

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I cut a lonely figure as i trudged across my college courtyard. Dusk has fallen, and the lamps that lined the entire breadth of the courtyard was lit; bathing everywhere with a luminiscent orange light. In the ephemereal light, everything seemed to float; dizzily light; or it was just my own ephemerality and consciousness which threatened to distance itself further the longer i go without sleeping. It gives an foreign, strangely peaceful feeling – the lights at night are one of the few (possibly only) things i like about my campus. I used to take breaks from the studio at 3 or 4am, back when me and Nicholas were practically living there, and come down and revel in the totality of the silence, just me and introspection.

Half an hour earlier, I had just talked to Quek, who agreed with me – there isn’t much point paying for one month’s fees and then only attend once, because i am not willing to cut my studio crit short to make it for training. He almost didn’t recognize me anymore- and i don’t recognize the moves anymore- a sign of how far i’m left behind. He was pretty indifferent about it – join the academy, train yourself, or quit.

There isn’t much i can do. I gave up so much already – basketball nights, yum ca & drinking nights, futsal & etc afternoons, movies, whatever, almost everything that used to constitute my daily life – though admittedly not highly productive – but it isn’t enough, and it continues to eat into my body, eat into my psyche, eat into my spirit, and eat into my soul.

There is nothing else in the world i would like to do, yet i hate the fact that it is making an illusory mockery of the last vestiges of my teenage years.

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Green nuts

I updated alot, and am updating alot these 2 days. Anyways, don’t complain, you’ll be seeing alot less of this during the week as i rack my brain and push my body to do the impossible.

Anyway, i got to thinking. Halfway while agonizing over the layout and space planning of my dumb office. How nice it would be, if i had lots of money and wielded immense power. Of course, i don’t necessarily mean Bill Gatesque type of money, just… enough. to buy a small island. Or something. And power! Power is good. Power is great. Power means being able to say “your nuts are green and insignificant” to someone and get away with it. And people will actually believe it. (that the someone’s nuts are green)

I remember i once went for this business preview seminar lecture shit thing at one of the Berjaya Times Square Conference Halls. The conference hall was grand, nice, and the entire thing was a grand, nice, big shitty con job. The seminar was basically this guy saying “gimme all your money” 50 times in 2 hours. In fact, most people had already been suckered cos’ the seminar itself costs 20 bucks, but many other people were still suckered into actually giving him all his money; something which i am luckily not part of. But one thing the speaker had, (actually two things), was money and power. He exuded a brash, confident arrogance, the kind that one can only get from having too much paper bills rub against your ass. (or whereever you keep your money). He had money, indeed; his underpants probably cost more then an average person’s monthly salary. Adding his pants, shirt, tie, coat, shoes, and related accessories designed to further his audience’s avarice, he probably was wearing an average person’s yearly income. And he radiated power; if he pointed at you and said your nuts were green; everyone in listening vicinity would believe it. You yourself would, no matter how hard you tell yourself your nuts weren’t green. In fact, your nuts will probably turn green on the sheer suggestive power of his words. (now that is really something). The audience were idolising and fawning over him so much that, you could practically smell it. I’m not kidding, the stench of avarice and greed were so prevalent in the room that i think i vomitted twice.

So yeah, i realise i tend to digress quite alot. Basically, as a conclusion, i would like to be that man, right now this very instant, instead of doing what i’m doing, that is agonizing over my unresolved floor plans.

And that is the end of this meaningless post, and i shall go back to more agonizing.

Gawd i hate autoCAD.

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on a lonely night. The night has grown cold, so cold.
Take your time and choose carefully, for you are being chosen as well.
It’s fair, and it’s just.

rends your heart slowly
Why bother holding grudges; who once made you drunken with joy?
Willingly, you chose – and,
your mistakes is exchanged for a lifetime of tears

Why, while your sadness is apparent;
you wear a smile and continue to laugh?
You deserve sympathy – having watched the departure
The footstepts forever imprinted in your heart, and
Your mistakes is exchanged for a lifetime of regret.
And your heart, is never at peace.

Damnit i should quit studying and become a crazed drunken poet or something. Li Bai and a million other poets got themselves mad hopping drunk and wrote their best pieces; i wrote this first under the influence of half a bottle of JD. Do i show promise, or what?

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8 hours of holiday

I remember the crunch period of last semester- for the first two weeks of May 2006, i didn’t touch my bed at all – i just crashed on the couch whenever possible. Of course, my final project was still mostly shit, cos i only suffered for the last 2 weeks and not the last 2 months. 4 months later, now, in an attempt to rectify that – the same has happened. Only thing is, there are still 6 more weeks left. Anyway, just for your information, the couch is damn bloody comfortable.

So yeah, its getting to the point where my sanity is directly and indirectly threatened. Its the time of the semester again – where, if you’re from Taylors PJ, you suddenly realise the semester 4, 5, and 6 architecture students are suddenly non-existent and seem to have disappeared from college. (not that they were ever very conspicious – you always notice the mass comm. students and the architecture juniors, but never the seniors) Until you notice their cars are still in the college parking lot. Then you realise the cars seem to be there all time. Then you realise, if you happen to drive past the LDP, near the Motorola bridge, that certain lights of the college block are always on, no matter if its 6am in the morning, or 8pm at night, or 3am. (if you’re not from Taylors PJ, try it anyway). Then, if you happen to be one of the lucky few to bump into some of these elusive seniors, twice in two days, you notice they happen to be wearing the same clothes.


The next person who says “college? nice wat. fun wat. everyday lepak and go clubbing” is gonna get a T-square up his ass. And technical pens up his nose. I’ll keep my clutch pencil, just because it costs a freakin ransom. Actually, i’ll keep all my pens as well; i’ll stuff tracing paper and masking tape up his nose instead. Or i might use Stanley’s. (Stanley is a mysterious entity who keeps lots of drawing supplies and stationeries in one of the lockers in my studio. We broke the lock the first day we used it, and have been “borrowing” Stanley’s equipment ever since. We figure he must be a beneficial ghost or an ex student who committed suicide or something, cos even the security guard don’t know who is he.)

 Anyway, i’ll be a hypocrite and admit that i took a break on friday. After submitting the first part of my Building and Planning submission (our class’ work is 10 days overdue,  the most punctual deadline we have met yet),  i went to catch the free screening of goodbye boys which incidentally stars my friend Jay. Almost a month ago, he was very nonchalant about it – he was in my car and, apparently indifferently, mentioned : oh. tomorrow is the premiere of my movie.

I was like wtf? what movie? And he went on to explain he’s been acting for this local production that’s apparently so good that it was accepted into the Tokyo Film Festival even before it was finished. It took awhile before i finally believed he wasn’t joking. Being the star that he is, he hooked me up with some free tickets, so off i went with him.

Frankly, i’ve been quite impressed with the quality of recent independent local productions, and this was not half bad. There was something awry with the videography, and better editing would have been most welcome, but otherwise the movie was pretty good. It succeeded where most local movies failed – it was incredibly character driven. Which is good, as most local characters are usually as strong as a old crunchy twig. Another thing which i think is a nice touch is, most viewers, after watching the movie, would quite likely be able to identify himself with one of the characters in the movie; i know i did. The movie is not gonna be screened locally anymore, at least not for the meantime, so be a good sport and go get the (original) vcd. This will be 100x more patriotic then displaying a huge ass flag on the bonnet of your car for a week every year.

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I totally forgot all about the 2nd part of the story of the kitchen door, which i meant to post eons ago. In fact, i only remembered because that day i was locked out again, this time in the house. Someone up there is bent on locking me in and out it seems.

Anyway, just in case some of you expected something else, i should clarify beforehand that i got out safely, without any embarassment, and without a huge deal or fanfare. so if you were hoping for something else, dont’ continue reading :p

Anyway – this is the direct continuation –

So i did what someone smart should do in that situation – i sat down and thought. In less then 20 seconds, i had a tentative plan – Clothes which are freshly washed are kept on the ironing board in a storeroom waiting to be ironed and the ironing board is placed against an old, rusted, closed window that faces the wet kitchen. If i could find a way to break those windows, i would have access to clothes which i could then wear!! (yes a blinding flash of the obvious). i figured the embarassment of being barefoot was something i could live with.

So i walked over to the windows. It was those panel-window types; the one typical in old SMK classrooms. It was tightly shut, and most of the adjustable hinges were rusted. I decided i rather not break ’em (later have to buy new one) so i tried and tried, and finally managed to pry one open with my barehands. Then i had a problem; the clothes on the ironing board which was nearest to me were my mom’s and sister’s ones, (if you think i even thought about wearing those, yeah, i thought about that for a nothingh of a second, so stop being gay) and my clothes were further inside. And the windows had grilles which prevented me from sticking my whole hand inside (if my kitchen had a door which self-locks, did you think the window will be left unsecured?) and needed something longer and thinner.

So what i did was, i went back and got hold of a soup ladle. With the soup ladle, i was able to hook one of my shirts over. From then on, everything was peanuts – i wore that shirt, unlocked myself out the back door, and walked over to the front. As a bonus, i even found an old pair of sandals under the washing machine – i didn’t even have to walk barefoot. And therein ends the story of the kitchen door – Moral of the story is, never iron your clothes. :) (cos if i did, the clothes would now be in my room, and i would most probably still be inside the kitchen.)

The end.

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