Thursday, May 29, 2008

Reflections from over the Sea

People are such strange things.

Gone on a trip to a remote island. Got heatstroke, vomitting, and shat my insides out. Nearly got typhoid too.

And at the end of the whole thing, what did we get?

Joy. Happiness


For some reason, that's what people do. Even as we sat in the hostel, groaning on the beds, as the people outside suffered twice as much and hurt four times more, we still found the energy to laugh, crack jokes, and make remarks about each other's waste dispole units (both of them)

Singapore really is a bubble, isn't it? A little, tiny bubble, of order and peace and education.

And in closed bubbles, there's always stress. That someday the bubble will pop.

When that happens, will we still have the strength to laugh?

I hope we do.

I really hope.


On the trip, a few things came to my mind. Chief of this was somewhat of admiration. I think I know what I want to be when I grow up.

If only I had the nerve to chase it. Or the legs to run.

Strange how hard it is to accept what you want, when you know you can have it?

The doctor asked me what I wanted to be. I didn't dare to tell him. Why was I embarassed?

Perhaps I was scared of being shot down?


At least I'm quite sure now. There's one thing I know I love.

Worlds and people. Ideas and things. Crafting, creating and always dreaming, always thinking, no matter what kinds of s*** life throws at you.

Idealist? Perhaps.

But that's what writing's all about.

Sunday, May 18, 2008


Come in! Come in good sir! Take a seat; now what may be your problem?

Mm. Mhm. Ah. Loneliness with a touch of angst I see. No worries, no worries, its hardly dangerous. Just make sure to have a good dose of Humor, and some Idealistic Hope as well. For this I recommend reading a few comic books. Just take two pages a day, three times daily. Also, don't forget to give this presciption to the nurse outside; she'll be more then happy to supply you with a bottle of heroic quotes as well. Just be careful not to overdose...


Hmm...a tricky case, I do believe. Have your been reading right? Thinking well? What has your daily consumption of skeptism been like? Mmhm. Mm. Oh, I see, I see. Not enough cultural depth in your diet, I believe. Just watch your morning newspaper intake; more "Local" and "Life" articles and less "Sports".

You seem to have an excess of self-confidence as well. Have you been swallowing your pride recently? No? I know they taste bad, but its good for you. Here, I'll prescribe you a few doses of "pridebeforefall" articles. Two articles a day, prefably after meals. That way, they'll be easier to digest. Just be sure not to read more than the recommended intake. See you!


And what have we here? Tsk. Tsk. Fantasy Overdose I see. Who does want to be this time? A superhero? Oh dear, a really large overdose. Too much idealism and dreams in his system I believe. Might be a little tricky purging the excess hope from his soul.

Didn't I give a presciption for this? What, No? Tsk, youngsters these days, what with their illegal Fantasy traffiking and day-dreaming. This is why we have presciptions and guidelines for reading! But don't worry madam, just let me give him a quick jab of Reality and he should be as right as ra-

Oh? He's afraid of needles you say? Fine then. In that case, just give him some critcal feedback. Make sure he consumes it all too. There are a few critic clinics outside that will give you some. Here's the prescription. Oh, make sure he eats them with a pinch of salt as well; There's a chance he might be allergic to disappointment.


What? What do you mean our stocks of Creativity are low? Prepostrous I say. The factories should be more than capable of-

Not effective? It can't be uneffective! It's Creativity! There's no other drug stronger than tha-

Yes, yes I know the natural producers are extinct. We wiped them out ourselves! All we had to do with isolate the relevant genetic structure and the precious chemical could be havested without all that stupid hassle and chaos and-

Failed? I thought they worked! Weren't those experiments a success? The simulated creativity and pseudo-inspiration were proven to have an effec- No longer any use? All our drugs depend on that thing! I don't care, we need to find some other way to simulate Creativity; There's almost none of it left.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Lanterns and Fireflies

...And so shine your light foward, and by doing so, we give permission for others to shine their light as well...

Wouldn't it be nice if humans were like Fireflies?

Each and every single firefly carries its own light. Whenever darkness falls and silence reigns, the lone firefly will shine its light, a tiny beacon in the darkness.

But no! The firefly is not alone. Whenever one firefly sparkles, the rest of its swarm shall shine as well. And so a single fly can start off another, and a billion lights can result from one.

Wouldn't it be nice if humans were like that?

I hope they are.

Because that means we won't need the candle at the back anymore.

When hiking, the hike leader is always the one with the lantern. A powerful, wide-beam lantern that pierces through the fog of night, blazing a path through for the others to see. By the leader's light the group shall steer, and by the leader's light so can others see.

Too bad not everyone brings their own torchlight.

Of course, that is not to say nobody brings a torch. There's always at least 1 man at the back. 1 man with a small candle.

Not very large, a candle. Compared to a lantern, a candle barely shines at all.

Yet just as the lantern points ahead, so does the candle point behind. And around as well. The lantern always shines in front, blazing the trail, marking the future. The candle simply illuminates whatever's around.

What if a Boy was lost? What if a man had vanished?

By whose light can he steer?

Will the lantern turn its light from the future to search for the man? Perhaps. Perhaps all lanterns should do that someday.

But until then there's always the candle. The light at the back.


Different people give different lights. The strong beam of the torch, the soft flame of a candle. The flashes of a camera, the glow of a lumiscent screen. Different lights, different people.

Different purposes too.

What's the use of a light that shines in the day?

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Feeling Better (I think)

Feeling better. Friends are such nice things...

I'm going on a sugar cold-turkey. Please don't wave ice cream or soft drinks in front of me. Rabid clawing might ensue.

Really must thank one particular person for talking. Or two, rather.

Inspirational models are aplenty, but models whom you can talk to personally? Rare.

Perhaps I'm just an analytical bastard, seeking to make "friends" with those in high positions and learn the secrets of their power.

Or maybe I'm just a confused little wanker without any idea who or what he is interfering with.

When you play with the Big Boys, expect to get stomped.

Water Boys and Benchwarmers never shine much, do they?

We, the losers of life
pledge ourselves as one enduring people
regardless of curses, swear-words
or abuse
To work on and on tirelessly
out of love or stupidity
Because we cannot
with the pro-ness
of the
next generation

Apparently I'm still not that much better, am I?

At least I'm happy enough to joke about it though.

I think.

---------------------------------------------------------------------- poem for today. Emoness demmands further attention elsewhere.

Sleep does Math Portfolio and TOK.

Q: What is the role of language in doing Math?
A: To supply all the swear words, Sir!

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Question of self: Ability and selfishness

And today I read a newspaper article about China. And the earthquake in China. And how it killed lots and lots of people.

Lots and lots of students too...

So I felt sort of sad and went to my bed and slept for a while.

And afterwards I went to do my chemistry, before proceeding to go onto Devart. Initially it was to check up on Zinc Hydroxide, but then I came across this little story on the front page, titled "Uncle Danny". I read it.

And then I smiled.


Still, all the above seemed somewhat artificial, doesn't it? I mean: I can feel pity and remorse, and I can feel sadness for the survivors/victims of the earthquake.

I can feel admiration and delight from reading a well-crafted story. I can feel pride from knowing the world has a good author out there.

And yet...none of these really compare, emotionally and perhaps mentally speaking, to my own problems.

Why are humans such selfish bastards?

Or at least, why am I?

Our own problems shall forever overshadow the problems of others. Because they are our own. Commonsense? Definately. Yet society does not seem to preach this way.

We are supposed to be able to "empathise" with others. Feel for others. Bring joy to others. Yet in the end, are we merely gunning for ourselves?

I regret and am somewhat ashamed that I have difficultly emphathising with people. I have wallowed in the depths of emoness to try and grasp the essence of it, yet somehow I still fall short. Me thinks I shall never be able to understand the suffering of the millions in Africa, the pain of a rejected child, or the despair the suicidal student has felt.

I tried to feel it. Nearly took myself out in the process. And still I feel hollow inside.

On the other side of things: the workers, the studious. Admiration is something I always held for these people. The drive and motivation: the sheer "its-just-something-we-gotta-do" mentality towards work; its amazing. I tried too, to become like them. I gain insight into their spirit, their passion and fire. The fuel of creativity and genius that propels these tireless innovators and thinkers towards their goal.

And still, once again, I fall short.

I cannot feel their passion. Their love for the subject, for the world, for its people. I cannot understand their ideas the same way they grasp a topic: Instinctively, all-encompassing and thirsty. Thirsty, in fact, for more knowledge. This drive I observe: Perhaps its an overstatement. Workers never show their inner passion that outwardly. Yet it is there, I suppose. A need and desire; a love for what they do.

Why can I not find this love?

And so my problem is presented, the problem greater than the starving millions, the olympic gold, the endless destruction of cities, the 3rd best school in the world.

In my selfish eyes, I ask: Where do I belong?

What, in this world of light and shadow, of suffering and pain-

What in sweet God's name can I do?

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Bus Stop

I sat on the benches
and saw beside a man;
an old man, grey
hairs almost gone.

Sitting there, he waits
For something I know not,
In his hand, a bag-
its weight he has borne.

Occasionally a passer
would drop a coin, two;
Sometimes a child, points
Curious enough to say:

"Why is the man there?"
She asks her mum, instead
Silence, the response-
is but a swift tug away.

Certainly the mother
is but a child in age;
yet to her, the man-
is but a child in place.

Another coin drops, clink
into the cup; The bag stays
by his side, heavy filled
with stories, now a waste.

The bus is coming
to take me home;
Eventually to come, even if late-

But the old man who sits,
To where does he go?
On the dry-grass patches
For whom does he wait?


Little thought, completely unrelated:

Trust is like a mountain. To climb it, one must subject oneself to the harshness of the elements, the trials of the road, have the humility to bow against the winds and the perserverance to keep climbing.

And at the top, after all that suffocation and strangulation and seemingly-restricted life, along the restritcted paths.

You reach the top, and behold

The freedom of wonder
The freedom of sight.


Monday, May 5, 2008

A so it begins....

If you read Klow's blog, you'll see his post abouts TNN

Alright, confession time: I'm joining the writing squad.

Erm, what's the big deal? some may say; Others might go: WTF NOOB

I dunno, I never really was part of the "original" TNN, but in many ways I found the storylines and ideas behind it...interesting.

And so according to XM, my writing will provide a "outsiders" pov about TNN, GEP and so on. Makes me worried though. It means a) suddenly I'm a representative, though of what, I'm not sure and b) I'm gonna screw up. Somewhere. I know I will.

Doing an arc right now, its rather...testy. So far about 3-4 people have read it, and I'm not exactly keen on spreading it out. For one thing, the entire pieces can be rather...insultive at times, me thinks. For another, I fear for my n00bish writing skillz.

But klow isn't complaining and XM's fine, so I guess that'll do.

I really like writing though; Hopefully I'll be able to pull this off. ^^


Sunday, May 4, 2008


And so the fool shall shun
what the fool not know,
And the fool shall run
from the seeds it sow;
Unknowing, uncaring
apathy at worst-
when the time is ripe,
he misses
the chances each time; a curse

Never looking, never seeking
Always running, the fool
Never wanting, never caring
Forever and ever, a tool.

No dreams, they're gone
No wishes, they're wrong
Afraid of the world, the sky and sea-
Afraid of people
Afraid to be.

Saturday, May 3, 2008


A single touch some would say
Is all you need to save the day,
to right the wrongs, to blaze the trail
through the snow in heaviest hail;

A single step, a single voice
All we need is make our choice,
to stand up right and make our speech
and force the words we claim to preach
Into the skulls of of the opposed
Until at last I would suppose
By some miracle or hand of God
Our works recieve the world's applaud.

It all made sense, so simple it was;
Just stand up strongly and say your words
No need for reason nor for thought,
Just say your piece and don't get caught.

So I touched the water and watch the skin
surface and ripple towards the rim,
Yet still far off as i watched aside
my ripples were buried; under the tide.


Wrote this very long ago, in response to a blogpost by a friend. Decided not to post it, and it has been lying in my folder since. Strangely appropiate to how I feel right now. Sometimes a poem can say so much more.

Friday, May 2, 2008


A friend pointed out to me today that Africa has been suffering from poverty for more than 24 years. And alot more people than just person in the house.

So all I can say is...sorry. For being an idiot. I never really should have ranted like that. Some sort of reaction...sparked off at that time. Perhaps it is the fact that I could identify more with one person than a group. Or maybe its cause of the lack of coverage, like my friend said.

Worrying isn't it? How many more people might have been suffering. All around the world. So many many people.

It makes me feel kinda short-sighted and immature in thought. Like another friend says: Suddenly I feel I'm not thinking enough.

Meh. I'll just go emo somewhere. Or play DnD. Escapism ftw.

Hui Jun, signing off.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

24 years

NOTE: Somewhat of a rant.


Just read an article. I think it was yesterday's newspaper, or today's, but that's not the point.

The point is: A father kept his 18-year-old daughter imprisoned for 24 years in his own house without anyone knowing.

And then he raped her.


And had 7 children with her as well.

for 24 years.

The eldest is 19 years-old, and has never seen sunlight. Never.

Somehow...the possibility of such a case actually occuring has never, ever occured to me before. Its just so...shocking, I can barely accept that humanity is capable of such acts.

I used to think all such acts were mostly...made up. Like in books, where the bad guys do all sorts of acts, but the good guys always find out in time.

24 years. Dammit.

I just feel so...sheltered. Like i never really had problems. Or knew the pain of life, or how deprived it can be.

I mean, I can barely get around without my labtop and the internet. Can you imagine not seeing sunlight for 24 years?

Such a case should be impossible. It just doesn't seem possible. Yet, it has happened. Tok would lead me to question the sources and such, but that's not the point. The point is: What if such things were possible? What if it occured again?

What if the life I live is but some sheltered matrix-like bubble?

We can doubt and start looking at the credibility of an article. You know the Drill: "Such a ridiculous claim! Humans can never be capable of this sort of despicable act. Acts as unnatural and unrealistic as these only happen in books, right?"

I don't know about you. This article...really...bothered me. Impacted. Changed. Whatever.

Everything I do, all my poems and stories and ideas and such all seem so...trival now.

Its cases like this that make me want to look at the "ambiguity of good and evil" and spit in disgust. At the so-called beauty of humanity. At the so-called morals and ideals we have.

Its all pointless. So long as things like this can freakin happen; its all pointless.

Perhaps I'm being very naive or biased. But I feel that my reaction is justified. I never felt so disillusioned with people before. Normally I can blame emotions and part of me will rebel against the "negativity" but this...this is so dam...

24 ****ing years.

What else can I say to that?