With ten days left, the choking smog is finally beginning to clear.
No, I'm not talking about the Indonesian Haze, but of the much-loathed term of conscription under which many a free Singaporean is chafing.
And speaking about the haze, its another choking smog that's clearing as well, thanks to the belated monsoon showers.
What a brilliant coincidence!
And when all this is done, there will be many changes to many things.
And to the good DVA who's off to London: Peace out and prosper. Boyakasha!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
A Trip to the British Council
In the midst of choking haze I cabbed down to the Brit Council for the interview.
Looked like a nice place, especially when compared to the American Embassy next door. The Embassy looks like a blinking Nazi Fortress. Just add Swastika banners and you've got Castle Wolfenstein or Hitler's Raven Lair or something like that.
Anyway I went in and registered for the interview. Lots of posters about English language courses around. There were a bunch of jabbering Chinese nationals having one such course in one of the rooms. Sounded like they were having fun, from the loud hoots of laughter that erupted from their room every few minutes.
There were two other people waiting for the interview with me. One was a very formally dressed Chinese guy, who began reading some big ass library book as soon as he sat down. The other was a Malay girl in a headscarf, who fiddled with her cell phone.
Eventually I was given a passage to read. It was an extract from Nicolo Machiavelli's The Prince. They didnt put the title on the paper, but it sure was Machiavelli. It reeked of him. The signs were all there- an instructional tone, a dim, contemptous view of the common people, the sharp distinction between the Ideal and the Real, the need for deception amongst the various tools of statecraft. Though I wasnt expecting it, it sure wasnt surprising either.
Then came the good Dr Kennedy herself. My first impression was that of a solid block of oak, formidable and ancient, with much knowlege stored deep within that wood-coloured hair of hers.
It was kind of awkward. She offered her hand as I was closing the door, and I had difficulty with the door, so she had her hand out for a good half minute. Oh well. Hope she wasnt too ticked off by that minor faux pas.
It began with a talk about National Service (invariably) and gradually progressed as to whether Singapore should obtain a nuclear bomb. I said yes, if Singapore's geograhical size was much bigger, enabling it to sustain a limited nuclear exchange with similarly armed neighbours.
Then she asked me about Kim Jong Il and his nuclear designs. And so Kim Jong Il became the mainstay of the interview. To my eventual detriment.
I could hold out for some time against her questions. She kept applying the same tactic to catch me: first she would ask a simple, innocuous question, and I would give a simple, intuitive reply. Then she would hit me in a classic pincer stroke with a maddeningly hard question that gave me no room to manoeuvre except by contradicting what I had said earlier. And it always revolved around the same subject: Kim Jong Il and his government. I held out against such questions quite well at first. Managed to bring in a bit of the heavy artillery-what I had read from Fukuyama and Huntington. And it was a relief that she didnt ask me about Hobsbawm or history- I'm sure I would have stuffed that.
But gradually the feeling of floundering and drowning began to overtake me. And then, near the conclusion of the interview, she caught me flat-footed with one such master stroke.
In a daze, the interview was ended.
I stumbled out the doors into the haze.
Called Jiv to tell him about it, messaged the good people who prayed for me, and then went home.
The best part about it was that I had a real slobberknocker answer to her tough-ass question at the end, but it didnt occur to me until I stepped out into Napier Road. Crap! If I had given her that reply I probably would've ended her obsession with Dear Leader Kim. It's always this thing I have with interviews, I can't seem to muster the ownage answer until after the interview has ended.
Oh well.
God's Will be done.
Looked like a nice place, especially when compared to the American Embassy next door. The Embassy looks like a blinking Nazi Fortress. Just add Swastika banners and you've got Castle Wolfenstein or Hitler's Raven Lair or something like that.
Anyway I went in and registered for the interview. Lots of posters about English language courses around. There were a bunch of jabbering Chinese nationals having one such course in one of the rooms. Sounded like they were having fun, from the loud hoots of laughter that erupted from their room every few minutes.
There were two other people waiting for the interview with me. One was a very formally dressed Chinese guy, who began reading some big ass library book as soon as he sat down. The other was a Malay girl in a headscarf, who fiddled with her cell phone.
Eventually I was given a passage to read. It was an extract from Nicolo Machiavelli's The Prince. They didnt put the title on the paper, but it sure was Machiavelli. It reeked of him. The signs were all there- an instructional tone, a dim, contemptous view of the common people, the sharp distinction between the Ideal and the Real, the need for deception amongst the various tools of statecraft. Though I wasnt expecting it, it sure wasnt surprising either.
Then came the good Dr Kennedy herself. My first impression was that of a solid block of oak, formidable and ancient, with much knowlege stored deep within that wood-coloured hair of hers.
It was kind of awkward. She offered her hand as I was closing the door, and I had difficulty with the door, so she had her hand out for a good half minute. Oh well. Hope she wasnt too ticked off by that minor faux pas.
It began with a talk about National Service (invariably) and gradually progressed as to whether Singapore should obtain a nuclear bomb. I said yes, if Singapore's geograhical size was much bigger, enabling it to sustain a limited nuclear exchange with similarly armed neighbours.
Then she asked me about Kim Jong Il and his nuclear designs. And so Kim Jong Il became the mainstay of the interview. To my eventual detriment.
I could hold out for some time against her questions. She kept applying the same tactic to catch me: first she would ask a simple, innocuous question, and I would give a simple, intuitive reply. Then she would hit me in a classic pincer stroke with a maddeningly hard question that gave me no room to manoeuvre except by contradicting what I had said earlier. And it always revolved around the same subject: Kim Jong Il and his government. I held out against such questions quite well at first. Managed to bring in a bit of the heavy artillery-what I had read from Fukuyama and Huntington. And it was a relief that she didnt ask me about Hobsbawm or history- I'm sure I would have stuffed that.
But gradually the feeling of floundering and drowning began to overtake me. And then, near the conclusion of the interview, she caught me flat-footed with one such master stroke.
In a daze, the interview was ended.
I stumbled out the doors into the haze.
Called Jiv to tell him about it, messaged the good people who prayed for me, and then went home.
The best part about it was that I had a real slobberknocker answer to her tough-ass question at the end, but it didnt occur to me until I stepped out into Napier Road. Crap! If I had given her that reply I probably would've ended her obsession with Dear Leader Kim. It's always this thing I have with interviews, I can't seem to muster the ownage answer until after the interview has ended.
Oh well.
God's Will be done.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
In Your Presence, O GOD
Perhaps it is in the delirium of fever that I type this.
Perhaps it has to do with the situation of mild desperation that I suddenly turn to the Almighty.
But unworthy as I am I feel the need to turn to Him, my Lord and King.
I have no other choice.
It's also perhaps to do with the fact that the interview for Oxford University is tomorrow and I am ill-equipped to handle the intellectual demands that will most probably be presented by the venerable Dr Barbara Kennedy. And I do so want to go to Oxford.
But it must be made clear that if I do go it will not be due to any skill or ability I possess, but to the grace and Sovereign Will of my Lord and King. I cannot do it by my own self. Even the skills and aptitude for the Humanities that I possess- are these not from God Himself, Who has deemed it fit to bless me as He has? And I must remind myself constantly about this fact lest I fall into the pit of Pride and Arrogance.
And even if I do not go to Oxford, and remain here- then, all thanks still be to God, and may His Name still be praised, for He is good and His Will is perfect.
How hypocritical of me! I, such a sinner, can only go round spouting religious phrases only when I need Him. How loathsome. But it is my prayer that God will turn such evil to His good.
How petty. How pathetic. But His Name must be glorified no matter what it costs me.
So call me a lunatic in the spasmodic throes of illness and last-minute desperation- I probably warrant such a description- but I have no other recourse now. I cannot apologise for my faith.
In Your Presence, O GOD
by Lynn deShazo
In Your Presence,
that's where I am strong
In Your Presence,
O Lord my God.
In your Presence,
that's where I belong.
Seeking Your Face,
Touching Your Grace
In the Cleft of the Rock.
In Your Presence O GOD.
I want to go where the rivers cannot overflow me,
Where my feet are on the rock
I want to hide where the blazing fire cannot burn me,
In Your Presence, O GOD.
I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me,
Where I'm covered by the Blood (of the Lamb Who was crucified for our sins)
I want to be where the schemes of darkness cannot touch me,
In Your Presence, O GOD.
Perhaps it has to do with the situation of mild desperation that I suddenly turn to the Almighty.
But unworthy as I am I feel the need to turn to Him, my Lord and King.
I have no other choice.
It's also perhaps to do with the fact that the interview for Oxford University is tomorrow and I am ill-equipped to handle the intellectual demands that will most probably be presented by the venerable Dr Barbara Kennedy. And I do so want to go to Oxford.
But it must be made clear that if I do go it will not be due to any skill or ability I possess, but to the grace and Sovereign Will of my Lord and King. I cannot do it by my own self. Even the skills and aptitude for the Humanities that I possess- are these not from God Himself, Who has deemed it fit to bless me as He has? And I must remind myself constantly about this fact lest I fall into the pit of Pride and Arrogance.
And even if I do not go to Oxford, and remain here- then, all thanks still be to God, and may His Name still be praised, for He is good and His Will is perfect.
How hypocritical of me! I, such a sinner, can only go round spouting religious phrases only when I need Him. How loathsome. But it is my prayer that God will turn such evil to His good.
How petty. How pathetic. But His Name must be glorified no matter what it costs me.
So call me a lunatic in the spasmodic throes of illness and last-minute desperation- I probably warrant such a description- but I have no other recourse now. I cannot apologise for my faith.
In Your Presence, O GOD
by Lynn deShazo
In Your Presence,
that's where I am strong
In Your Presence,
O Lord my God.
In your Presence,
that's where I belong.
Seeking Your Face,
Touching Your Grace
In the Cleft of the Rock.
In Your Presence O GOD.
I want to go where the rivers cannot overflow me,
Where my feet are on the rock
I want to hide where the blazing fire cannot burn me,
In Your Presence, O GOD.
I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me,
Where I'm covered by the Blood (of the Lamb Who was crucified for our sins)
I want to be where the schemes of darkness cannot touch me,
In Your Presence, O GOD.
Friday, October 13, 2006
The Grey Smog of Supreme Aggravation
I have come down with a nasty bout of flu and slight fever, no thanks to the haze caused by the abysmally ignorant arson-farmers in Sumatra and the atrociously incompetant fools posing as government officials in Indonesia.
One notable exception was Bambung, who at least had a fig-leaf of decency to apologise to Singapore and Malayland, instead of spouting ludicrous nonsense like the Vice President Jusuf Kulla, who made some completely out-of-point comment about how Indonesia had been bathing ungrateful Asia in fresh oxygen for so long. Kulla is a retarded cockster who should be jailed for life in an airtight 3m x 3m x 3m BBQ pit with ash and carbonized dust and smouldering coals that never go out. And all those blockhead peasants and grubby dickheaded forestry and agricultural corporation bosses should be exiled to live in an active volcano for life. Let them spend a lifetime inhaling pure undiluted ash and carbon, since they seem to like it so much that they have to share it with everyone else. Fuckers like Kulla and the forestry company bosses and the farmers should be spared having to breathe fresh air and oxygen, since its obviously so toxic to them.
It's a sickening feeling when you look out the window and the acrid smoke smack in the face. You can't see the ships at sea because they're all obscured by the smog. But of course, the much vaunted ASEAN, for all its pretensions at being a respectable regional institution, won't be able to do a shit about it, because all its member states and their rulers have not the balls to stand up for international law. "Respecting another ASEAN member's Sovereignity and Internal Affairs", they call it.
Pathetic imbeciles.
One notable exception was Bambung, who at least had a fig-leaf of decency to apologise to Singapore and Malayland, instead of spouting ludicrous nonsense like the Vice President Jusuf Kulla, who made some completely out-of-point comment about how Indonesia had been bathing ungrateful Asia in fresh oxygen for so long. Kulla is a retarded cockster who should be jailed for life in an airtight 3m x 3m x 3m BBQ pit with ash and carbonized dust and smouldering coals that never go out. And all those blockhead peasants and grubby dickheaded forestry and agricultural corporation bosses should be exiled to live in an active volcano for life. Let them spend a lifetime inhaling pure undiluted ash and carbon, since they seem to like it so much that they have to share it with everyone else. Fuckers like Kulla and the forestry company bosses and the farmers should be spared having to breathe fresh air and oxygen, since its obviously so toxic to them.
It's a sickening feeling when you look out the window and the acrid smoke smack in the face. You can't see the ships at sea because they're all obscured by the smog. But of course, the much vaunted ASEAN, for all its pretensions at being a respectable regional institution, won't be able to do a shit about it, because all its member states and their rulers have not the balls to stand up for international law. "Respecting another ASEAN member's Sovereignity and Internal Affairs", they call it.
Pathetic imbeciles.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
EPL Soccer- Much Better than English National Soccer
While England's joke of a national team crumbled in Zagreb, the English U21s trounced their German counterparts, thanks to Theo Walcott of the Arsenal!
I seriously think the U21s are better than the senior squad. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that there are two Arsenal players in the U21 squad!
Would have been three if that asshole Alan Pardew had sold Nigel Reo-Coker to Arsenal. That guy is too much. He goes and bitches about how Arsenal have no England players in their team, then when Arsenal tries to buy an England player from him, he turns down the offer and refuses to tell Reo-Coker of Arsenal's interest in him. What a major f*****. The only good thing he's done is to kick Tottenham's ass in the last game of last season, thus allowing us to get into the Champions League.
Anyway I'm still watching the replays of Robin van Persie's second goal against Charlton.
That was WICKED SICK.
I seriously think the U21s are better than the senior squad. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that there are two Arsenal players in the U21 squad!
Would have been three if that asshole Alan Pardew had sold Nigel Reo-Coker to Arsenal. That guy is too much. He goes and bitches about how Arsenal have no England players in their team, then when Arsenal tries to buy an England player from him, he turns down the offer and refuses to tell Reo-Coker of Arsenal's interest in him. What a major f*****. The only good thing he's done is to kick Tottenham's ass in the last game of last season, thus allowing us to get into the Champions League.
Anyway I'm still watching the replays of Robin van Persie's second goal against Charlton.
That was WICKED SICK.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
The Beginning of The End
One month left.
One month left.
And it'll all be a memory, mostly bad, but good too, and damn funny at some times.
Unforgettable, really. Like Kaimin the Nudist who ran through the barracks corridor naked on the first night of Basic because he forgot to bring his towel to the shower. We called him the "Naked Flame" from then on- after a briefing by the Sergeant on Armoury rules- "No Naked Flames are allowed in the Armoury".
Or the retard from Section 2 who pissed everyone off.
Or the RSMs, the Old Lords of Terror.
Or the incalculable fatigue after 3 straight days of trench digging.
What an incredible two years.
And then I will have to play catch up with my former peers in the civilised world- peers who have gone and travelled and experienced new places and learnt new and greater things.
Yes. Greater things await.
One month left.
And it'll all be a memory, mostly bad, but good too, and damn funny at some times.
Unforgettable, really. Like Kaimin the Nudist who ran through the barracks corridor naked on the first night of Basic because he forgot to bring his towel to the shower. We called him the "Naked Flame" from then on- after a briefing by the Sergeant on Armoury rules- "No Naked Flames are allowed in the Armoury".
Or the retard from Section 2 who pissed everyone off.
Or the RSMs, the Old Lords of Terror.
Or the incalculable fatigue after 3 straight days of trench digging.
What an incredible two years.
And then I will have to play catch up with my former peers in the civilised world- peers who have gone and travelled and experienced new places and learnt new and greater things.
Yes. Greater things await.
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