SISPEC

Im done with my recruit phase in Tekong.

Onwards in my journey through NS - becoming a sergeant.

I've been posted to SISPEC and I have to report tommorrow morning 8am at Pasir Laba.

I live in Pasir Ris. Do you have any idea how far that is? It's REALLY far. Like one side of the island to the other.

Just hope I don't get posted into a super shiong company...PLEASE!

And even more importantly, that my buddy will not be a hopeless fella.

So far I've been lucky...lets see how it goes.



I miss all my friends. Onwards to no life baby.

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord

Hi all.

I'm doing fine in the army. Just a few more weeks to go.

I pass out of my BMT phase on the 9th of Dec.

The only thing thats rather bothersome for me now is that loneliness settles in now and then.

Being in the army really limits the time I spend with my friends, and I also feel cut off from civilisation (literally man...).

Gotta get through this...

Next phase in life

This is it everyone.

I am finally going in to the army.

Pray for me, for I know it will be a tough ride ahead.


I ask that I have the strength to remain faithful, to love God and my fellow man.


Dear Lord, of all the gifts You have given me, I thank You most of all for my conscience, for giving me an acute understanding of morality in mine and other peoples actions.

Dear Lord, help me to overcome the feelings of disdain for my conscience due to the responsibility it brings to me. Help me to know that regardless of what happens, I should not desire the temptation of sin. Though I may be tempted, let me not desire for it.


Dear Lord,

The path ahead looks gloomy and difficult. Already, even before my enlistment, I have been dealt a heavy blow. But Lord, I want to remain steadfast in Your love. Help me to overcome my feelings of anger, of wrath, of destruction. Help me to overcome my feelings of hatred. What you have gifted unto me oh Lord, I should be ready to part with, for it was not mine but Yours.

Help me to let go...open mine eyes to Your will.

Help me to FORGIVE.

In this I pray to you Lord, Amen
-

Reset

It's time to hit the reset button.

Start over and not obey the expected.

No compromising and no fooling myself.


It's time to be completely honest.

Ignore all feelings of supposed cognition.

No assuming and no coddling about.

Dust If You Must

Dust If You Must
Author Unknown


Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.

Persona

What is a persona?

In latin, 'persona' literally translates as 'mask'.

In english, it is what defines a persons character; his personality.

In psychology, it is a representation that one adopts in presenting oneself to others, viable to change according to situation.

-

Love is - Part 2

Love is, enjoying your presence.

Love is - Part 1

Love is, your gentle embrace.
-

Dear God.

Dear God, let my actions be directed by You. Let me be an intrument of Your love and grace.

Remind me what is real love and what is fleeting attraction. Never let me confuse the two.

Show me how to love others as You have loved me.

Help me remember that it is Your love I should seek.


Make me genuine. Make me loving. Make me wise.

Let me not be a fool to my emotions, instead, for my mind to be clear as the morning sun.

Let not the darkness of the night influence me, and keep my thoughts far from sorrow.


For everything not within my control, give me the wisdom to trust in You.

For anything my mind is muddled with, give me the clarity to discern.

For every hardship faced, give me the strength to endure.


Lord I ask these things of You for I know You are a God of greatness. In Your power and might all things are possible.

I humbly seek you for I know I am weak and foolish. Help me your servant to overcome my failings with Your Spirit.

Guide me through and show me the right path.


This I pray to You, Lord God Almighty.

Amen.

The Developed Phobia

What matters to me now is not whom I may have feelings for.

What matters to me now is that I am fearful of having such feelings.

I am afraid of loving, of showing my affections to others. I fear for what may happen and I fear for what I may lose.

And most of all, I fear my love is distorted, that it is only superficial.

-

It truly is odd, how I crave for love even though I do not dare to love.

It truly is odd, how I ask for love when I know God already loves me dearly. How I ask for having somebody in my life when I ought to know that loving God should be enough.

Sometimes I just feel like I ought to be celibate. Without a partner in my life, just serving God till the end of my days. But I know I am simply running away from my fear.


And that changes everything.

Scream

It is screaming, but it is silent.

Back

Hi all, I'm back.

The trip was good and bad. But i dont feel like typing the whole thing out. Its really good...and bad.

In some ways I regret going actually.

I actually feel spiritually weaker then before I left.

I dunno what to say, and not just literally. In my heart, I feel an incapablity to express and to dig deeper into my depths. Ive felt like this since coming back back. It just feels like the past 2 weeks have made me...distant. To myself even.

I can barely hear my heart speak to me. Suddenly I realise. It was always God that spoke to me through my heart. It feels like i have a wall around me, like I just dont want to hear.

I feel like running away, and at the same time I feel like rushing forward very fast.

I feel numb and at the same time I feel aware.

I feel confused and at the same time I am sure of my duties.


I need to get back to how I was.

Jordan

Hi all, currently using a computer in the hotel im staying in Jordan.

Update you guys moe next time. Lack of time.

Bye!

T3 Departure

Hey all, I'm in the departure place now. T3's departure area is FANTASTIC. I will upload the pics when i get home. Some areas are really like nice.

Hopefully I'll have access to the internet in Israel.

Stay tuned for more updates! (Hopefully!)

I'm leaving on a jet plane

I will be gone from 16th May to 1st June.

Israel.

Pilgrimage.

I will miss all my dear friends.

Take care of yourselves.

I will keep you in my heart.

Till we next meet.

-Vic

The Happy Prince

This entry, is an old fairytale I read as a young child.

A fairytale I had since forgotten.

Today, by fate, I am once again brought to it.

It is a truly lovely story and I implore you my friend, to read and enjoy it.
-

The Happy Prince
by Oscar Wilde

HIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. ‘He is as beautiful as a weathercock,’ remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; ‘only not quite so useful,’ he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

‘Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?’ asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. ‘The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.’

‘I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,’ muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

‘He looks just like an angel,’ said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.

‘How do you know?’ said the Mathematical Master, ‘you have never seen one.’

‘Ah! but we have, in our dreams,’ answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

‘Shall I love you?’ said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

‘It is a ridiculous attachment,’ twittered the other Swallows, ‘she has no money, and far too many relations;’ and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. ‘She has no conversation,’ he said, ‘and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.’ And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. ‘I admit that she is domestic,’ he continued, ‘but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.’

‘Will you come away with me?’ he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

‘You have been trifling with me,’ he cried, ‘I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!’ and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. ‘Where shall I put up?’ he said; ‘I hope the town has made preparations.’

Then he saw the statue on the tall column. ‘I will put up there,’ he cried; ‘it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.’ So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

‘I have a golden bedroom,’ he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. ‘What a curious thing!’ he cried, ‘there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.’

Then another drop fell.

‘What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?’ he said; ‘I must look for a good chimney-pot,’ and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
‘Who are you?’ he said.

‘I am the Happy Prince.’

‘Why are you weeping then?’ asked the Swallow; ‘you have quite drenched me.’

‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.’

‘What, is he not solid gold?’ said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

‘Far away,’ continued the statue in a low musical voice, ‘far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.’

‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ said the Swallow. ‘My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.’
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.’

‘I don’t think I like boys,’ answered the Swallow. ‘Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.’

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. ‘It is very cold here,’ he said; ‘but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.’

‘Thank you, little Swallow,’ said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.

He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. ‘How wonderful the stars are,’ he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!’

‘I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,’ she answered; ‘I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.’

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. ‘How cool I feel,’ said the boy, ‘I must be getting better;’ and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. ‘It is curious,’ he remarked, ‘but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.’

‘That is because you have done a good action,’ said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. ‘What a remarkable phenomenon,’ said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. ‘A swallow in winter!’ And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

‘To-night I go to Egypt,’ said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, ‘What a distinguished stranger!’ so he enjoyed himself very much.

When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. ‘Have you any commissions for Egypt?’ he cried; ‘I am just starting.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’

‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ answered the Swallow. ‘To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the prince, ‘far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.’

‘I will wait with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. ‘Shall I take him another ruby?’

‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’ said the Prince; ‘my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.’

‘Dear Prince,’ said the Swallow, ‘I cannot do that;’ and he began to weep.

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’ he cried; ‘this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,’ and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. ‘Heave a-hoy!’ they shouted as each chest came up. ‘I am going to Egypt!’ cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

‘I am come to bid you good-bye,’ he cried.

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’

‘It is winter,’ answered the Swallow, ‘and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.’

‘In the square below,’ said the Happy Prince, ‘there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.’

‘I will stay with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, ‘but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. ‘What a lovely bit of glass,’ cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. ‘You are blind now,’ he said, ‘so I will stay with you always.’

‘No, little Swallow,’ said the poor Prince, ‘you must go away to Egypt.’

‘I will stay with you always,’ said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

‘Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.’

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. ‘How hungry we are!’ they said. ‘You must not lie here,’ shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

‘I am covered with fine gold,’ said the Prince, ‘you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.’

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. ‘We have bread now!’ they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door where the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. ‘Good-bye, dear Prince!’ he murmured, ‘will you let me kiss your hand?’

‘I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.’

‘It is not to Egypt that I am going,’ said the Swallow. ‘I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?’

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: ‘Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!’ he said.

‘How shabby indeed!’ cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.

‘The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,’ said the Mayor; ‘in fact, he is little better than a beggar!’

‘Little better than a beggar’ said the Town councillors.

‘And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!’ continued the Mayor. ‘We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.’ And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. ‘As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,’ said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. ‘We must have another statue, of course,’ he said, ‘and it shall be a statue of myself.’

‘Of myself,’ said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

‘What a strange thing!’ said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. ‘This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.’ So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

‘Bring me the two most precious things in the city,’ said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

‘You have rightly chosen,’ said God, ‘for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.’
-


In the past, this story would make me feel so sad for the Swallow and the Prince.

And today, reading it once again, I almost feel teary eyed.

Speed Racer

I really enjoyed this movie.

Not only for the fact that I am a long time fan of the 1960's cartoon of the same name, but also because of the unique cinematography of this movie.

The shots of the characters as they hold their dialogues and the special super surreal graphics make the movie feel somehow cartoonish but yet so refreshing and capturing.

It's really amusing, and the way the story is told, the portrayal of each individual character has so much substance in each of them, even the seemingly minor characters are believably portrayed and not just chucked into the movie as brainless characters that have no personality.

All fans of the cartoon have GOT to watch this movie.

Anyone young at heart will definitely enjoy this as well. Just don't be too critical of the occasional kiddish side of this movie, and it'll be a blast!

Go Speed!!!

Where do I stand

Its a lonesome night.

I got to realise today, 2 people im working with on something, both probably have a potential someone in their life.

No big deal right?

I feel glad.

And at the same time,

I feel lonely.


Where do I stand?

Can anyone tell me?

In this life of mine.

Is there anyone out there...

I'm getting tired of feeling this way.

A small table, two chairs, sweet tea in between

A small table, two chairs, sweet tea in between.


This short sentence may seem simple.

But in it bears the memories of a past once had.

The memory of me and my friend from secondary school, Fukun, having tea together in his house.

With a small round folding wooden table and two accompanying chairs.


That was years ago. I can't even remember exactly when, but im pretty sure it was 4 years back in 2004, when we were sec 4.

It was then during that very day we had tea that i thought of the sentence.

And now, years after, it is still with me.

But I wonder...what of the Fukun and me now?

How much have things changed since then...?

Aspirations

As I am now done with school and currently waiting for my enlistment letter, I have been hearing many of my friends discussing with me their plans for the future.

But each time that happens, I find myself rather uninterested and disconnected with their ideas and plans for themselves.

Is getting a Degree in a well known university and getting a high paying job all there is to life after school?

What has happened to youthful aspirations and goals and dreams? Or is it that, perhaps living comfortably with money is all that is really important?

Living comfortably is, of course, of prime importance in each living organisms life, but as humans, we are able to transcend this basic instinct of comfortability.

I can only say for sure that, people need more in their lives then just physical things.

I am quite sure my friends will be aware of this later in their lives...

I just sorta wish that they would realise sooner.

Bummer

With my school life officially over (for now), I officially title myself as:

-
A Professional Bummer
-

For any extra company needed for parties, outings, or my specialty, BUMMING ABOUT, feel free to contact me.

Slacking times are, 12 to 12, daily, except for fridays 5pm onwards and sundays.*

*Availability depends on first come first serve basis, as well as number of days spent out in a row. :)

Free from Imprisonment!

Now... I myself have never been to prison, but let me tell you my dear readers... I FEEL LIKE I'VE JUST FINISHED SERVING MY TIME!



Though definitely my ordeal in Temasek Polytechnic Design School cannot be compared to what prison must be like, I still feel like I have regained the freedom I had not felt in so long.

Not just remembering the hard and bitter times, I also remember the joyful and happy times, where coursemates would laugh together and have jolly fun. And not forgetting the many many things I've learnt in design school, the majority of which have nothing to do with Design itself.

However, if I DO remember these jolly times, then why do i still feel a sense of relief that I am now finally out of this torture?

I tell you, my dear readers, it is because of the way the School is lead so, and by how the Lecturers are teaching so, and how it is no longer about the students welfare. It has become the opposite of caring for the students.

All that the school seems to care about is merely about the REPUTATION of the school and not the students. Like a Diploma Show that only lets 'presentable' students work be showcased. It's not for the students sake...its just for the school.

Then there are those who teach.

There is favoritism, biasness, and unequal treatment. But to me, these are forgivable, because it is everywhere in this world and it is inevitable in encountering such things. What really disappoints me is when our mentors merely see it their own way. They have become deluded in their own personal idea of design, not having the thought of what an idea or concept could be, but merely of... 'this is GOOD, and this is BAD, because i said so'.

I am just scratching the surface of the iceburg in the ocean, but I am quite sure many fellow students would agree with me. This is just my rant.

Just so you know (whoever is reading), all that bullshit to try and convince the students hasn't changed anyones opinion at all. Only made things look worse. Ironic really.



Oh... IM FREE! HAHA!

A Mystery which no longer allures

She's a mystery which is not worth solving

You may be dissapointed at unravelling it

A Fool's Wisdom

wis·dom

the quality or state of being wise; knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; sagacity, discernment, or insight.



Ah wisdom, the much sought after treasure of my existance.

For those who do not know, wisdom was something i believed to have, years back in secondary school, and was something i thought was lost to me in my poly years.

In my poly years, it was quite a torturous and fustratingly angst i would hold against myself. I would think to myself, "Dammit, whats happened to me? I dont even think anymore". But then of course, i got used to that fact and it became a part of me.

Perhaps some of my old friends would remember me using this phrase.

"A greying of the mind."

A time when thoughts suddenly dont flow, and one is nothing but pretty much a bag of meat with primitive needs and wants.



I had perceived this to be akin to...losing my 'wisdom'. Because, in my secondary school days (which was when i had an immense amount of free time), i used spend my time thinking and thinking and thinking. And through this, i did gain alot more insight into things than most of my other school-mates.

However, the fall began when I started to put myself on a pedestal in between the transition from my sec school to polytechnic school.

And by doing so, my descent of the mind came swiftly upon me.



Since june last year, during the Youth in the Spirit Seminar i attended, i looked back deeply into my past. It was then that i recalled how i looked upon my so called wisdom, as well as my 'greying of the mind', which by then, i had already accepted as part of my life.

Honestly, i still believe that what i had in the past, was indeed a form of wisdom (at least for my age at the time). But as i have been given, so can it be taken away.



It was on the 3rd of Feb, Sunday 2008 that i read this phrase from William Shakespeare.

"The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool."
- William Shakespeare

I was taken aback as i read this.

How true his words resounded in my head.



So, lets ask ourselves. Is our wisdom a false and indulgent one? Or is it a true and virtuous one?

God help me

to love those whom i hate.