...I'm posting something other than my articles. Anyway, I just have the urge to whine publicly because the stress is building up inside my brain and I seriously need to unwind, otherwise I'll explode. So I finally handed in my final essay today. As you know, I'm an expert in procrastination and have been dragging out the essay's completion for days. The feeling during those few days I'm labouring over words and books was the worst ever!!! It's like having a noose around your ribcage and the noose slowly tightened until it completely suffocates you. And so I conclude that the best (or rather, the worst way) to kill someone slowly is by setting an important but incomprehensible essay for the person so that person has to squeeze his/her brain juice till the last drop to finish doing it. And even then, the person will still don't know what question in the essay actually need to be answered. Oh, and the higher the person's expectation the more tortuous it will be. Better yet if the person couldn't finish it by the due date and has to race time and still get 5 points docked/day out of an already sucky essay. imagine the horror of having your alrady borderline passing marks being deducted. What does that leave you? A fail? So yeah, this entire paragraph just show you how screwed up my brain is right now with unused imagination and festering frustrations.
Actually, I think another similar horrible method is by owing debts up to your neck and trying to finish repaying everything to no avail. I'm sure the dragging feeling is even heavier than having 2 tons of bricks on your shoulders. Urgh, I'll never, ever have any debts. So no credit cards for me. I just couldn't understand why people like to use credit card and think that once they have credit card they have a sort of 'unlimited money'. Don'tthey think that they still have to pay the money back eventually?
Oh, yeah the worst thing was that I hafta work today when I slept at 4 a.m coz of the essay. And I'm so exhausted coz I've been sleeping for 2-3 hours this last one week (with essays and exam) that my went to shut down mode for sometime, while working. I couldn't process the prices which I had memorise and my reaction was slow. Plus we had the worst lunchtime rush as there are only three people working (my boss, me and one other guy) to 10 customers--an oversight by boss coz he thought that there'll be less customer during this exam period. It's a miracle I didn't have any accidents while working. So why am I writing this? I should go home and sleep, right? Oh yeah, that's another additional torment. As I had been sleeping at some irregular and ungodly hour, my body system is all chaotic now. So no matter how bone weary I feel now, I won't be able to sleep. Also I plan to start regulating my sleep hour from today, so if I go home and sleep now, I'll still be messing up my body-clock. It's just 4p.m after all. And I'm feeling a bit shaky now, so I'm resting in the library playing computer to gain some energy to walk home.
So there, a day in my life as per requested. Oh geez, I just read through what I wrote. I definitely think I should stick with posting articles.. Please don't ask me to write personal entry anymore...lol. Ciao. Have one more exam to study for.
Love, the colour purple
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Book Review
Book review
Target publication: GoodReading magazine’s ‘word-of-mouth’ general fiction section ; The Age’s Entertainment: Book section.
For One More Day
“This is a story about a family and, as there is a ghost involved, you might call it a ghost story. But every family is a ghost story.” So the story of another Mitch Albom’s bestseller-in-the-making begins.
Following his two previous international bestsellers, Tuesdays with Morrie and The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Albom continues to churn out books that deal with that poignant moment in one’s life. That important, valuable moment which we don’t realize till it’s too late.
For One More Day follows its lost soul, Charley ‘Chick’ Benetto, on a path of self-destruction and his eventual encounter with his deceased mother, Posey. Depressed and drunk, Chick decides to commit suicide at his hometown after learning that his only daughter, Maria, doesn’t invite him to her wedding.
Chick’s failed suicide attempt gives him the chance to spend one more day with Posey, whose death results in him feeling guilty due to his absence. From here, we trace his growing-up years that led to his broken state. And as we learn how, as a child, forced to choose between his parents, Chick chose his Dad with disappointing consequences, he learns how Posey’s sacrifices gave him a decent life. With this, comes understanding and redemption.
As with his two earlier books, Albom’s narrative has the uncanny ability to take us along for the ride. It unconsciously put us in the protagonist’s seat. So that slowly, Chick’s story becomes ours. The little notes Posey loves to slip to him, become our Mums’ hugs and kisses when we least expected. When Chick feels that twinge of guilt for not sticking up for his Mum, it’s our conscience pricking for making Mum cry or lying to her. That familiar warmth and smell of Mum Chick remembers is now ours. And when he hears his Mum’s nagging, it’s ours whom we ‘heard’.
For Chick, his absent father, Len, is “a ghost” whom he still sees. Len’s baseball aspiration for Chick still ‘haunted’ him. The ghost in this context is not only literal but also refers to the past mistake that haunted Chick and the readers. The ghost is that absent figure whom we look up to, who may still be alive.
If you think the deep soul-searching theme of this book is too soppy for your liking, ask yourself Albom’s questions: “Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back. What if you got it back?”
Whether you want to admit it or not, these questions probably resonate within us at one point or another. This is simply because we often wish we had one more chance in conducting our life – be it in our studies, jobs, experiences, behaviours and relationships.
As such, this book represents our second chance. For its message seems to be asking us to make amends before we regret it.
Definitely just right for reading after that big fight with your loved ones, especially Mum. However clichéd it may sound, this book makes it easier to apologize to our loved ones and reminds us that a mother’s love knows no earthly bound.
More importantly, it shows the importance of family and how one relative’s problem can affect us and its resolution can result in a closure for ours. Day reminds us of our forgotten complete trust in our parents. Of the day we said, just like Chick himself said “[a]nd if my mother said it, I believe it.” Just like Maria said “if my father said it, I believe it”.
With his tendency to draw characters and stories based on his own family and experiences, the book might almost be autobiographical. Posey’s description, “large, almond-shaped eyes, dark sweeping hair that she often wore up”, fits the photo of Albom’s mum, which he enclosed at the last page of the book. Another illustration is a picture of Albom in his mummy costume, which is similar to Chick’s Halloween costume, the mummy, when he was six years old.
Some critics found its simplistic plot and characterization unbearable. They say that the old-fashioned American sentimentality is too saccharine sweet for the more cynical Australian readers.
In the book’s defense, however, I find that it doesn’t present the ‘good’ characters too idealistically. For instance, Posey makes mistakes, indulge in wearing makeup and dressing up, projecting a less domesticated housewife image. And Maria, whose initial depiction is that of a model daughter, is later revealed to be ashamed of her dad.
The twist at the end left me a bit puzzled, yet it’s technique is interesting enough to make me want to read it one more time.
Definitely one light volume packed with goodness for the soul.
817 words.
Well, it's probably not a suitable time to post this review. But I figured that since I don't really have anything else at the moment and you'll need something light...Plus, among my articles, this is one of my favourite written work. It isn't too bad either, even if I say so myself.=D
Love, the colour purple.
Target publication: GoodReading magazine’s ‘word-of-mouth’ general fiction section ; The Age’s Entertainment: Book section.
For One More Day
by Mitch Albom
“This is a story about a family and, as there is a ghost involved, you might call it a ghost story. But every family is a ghost story.” So the story of another Mitch Albom’s bestseller-in-the-making begins.
Following his two previous international bestsellers, Tuesdays with Morrie and The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Albom continues to churn out books that deal with that poignant moment in one’s life. That important, valuable moment which we don’t realize till it’s too late.
For One More Day follows its lost soul, Charley ‘Chick’ Benetto, on a path of self-destruction and his eventual encounter with his deceased mother, Posey. Depressed and drunk, Chick decides to commit suicide at his hometown after learning that his only daughter, Maria, doesn’t invite him to her wedding.
Chick’s failed suicide attempt gives him the chance to spend one more day with Posey, whose death results in him feeling guilty due to his absence. From here, we trace his growing-up years that led to his broken state. And as we learn how, as a child, forced to choose between his parents, Chick chose his Dad with disappointing consequences, he learns how Posey’s sacrifices gave him a decent life. With this, comes understanding and redemption.
As with his two earlier books, Albom’s narrative has the uncanny ability to take us along for the ride. It unconsciously put us in the protagonist’s seat. So that slowly, Chick’s story becomes ours. The little notes Posey loves to slip to him, become our Mums’ hugs and kisses when we least expected. When Chick feels that twinge of guilt for not sticking up for his Mum, it’s our conscience pricking for making Mum cry or lying to her. That familiar warmth and smell of Mum Chick remembers is now ours. And when he hears his Mum’s nagging, it’s ours whom we ‘heard’.
For Chick, his absent father, Len, is “a ghost” whom he still sees. Len’s baseball aspiration for Chick still ‘haunted’ him. The ghost in this context is not only literal but also refers to the past mistake that haunted Chick and the readers. The ghost is that absent figure whom we look up to, who may still be alive.
If you think the deep soul-searching theme of this book is too soppy for your liking, ask yourself Albom’s questions: “Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back. What if you got it back?”
Whether you want to admit it or not, these questions probably resonate within us at one point or another. This is simply because we often wish we had one more chance in conducting our life – be it in our studies, jobs, experiences, behaviours and relationships.
As such, this book represents our second chance. For its message seems to be asking us to make amends before we regret it.
Definitely just right for reading after that big fight with your loved ones, especially Mum. However clichéd it may sound, this book makes it easier to apologize to our loved ones and reminds us that a mother’s love knows no earthly bound.
More importantly, it shows the importance of family and how one relative’s problem can affect us and its resolution can result in a closure for ours. Day reminds us of our forgotten complete trust in our parents. Of the day we said, just like Chick himself said “[a]nd if my mother said it, I believe it.” Just like Maria said “if my father said it, I believe it”.
With his tendency to draw characters and stories based on his own family and experiences, the book might almost be autobiographical. Posey’s description, “large, almond-shaped eyes, dark sweeping hair that she often wore up”, fits the photo of Albom’s mum, which he enclosed at the last page of the book. Another illustration is a picture of Albom in his mummy costume, which is similar to Chick’s Halloween costume, the mummy, when he was six years old.
Some critics found its simplistic plot and characterization unbearable. They say that the old-fashioned American sentimentality is too saccharine sweet for the more cynical Australian readers.
In the book’s defense, however, I find that it doesn’t present the ‘good’ characters too idealistically. For instance, Posey makes mistakes, indulge in wearing makeup and dressing up, projecting a less domesticated housewife image. And Maria, whose initial depiction is that of a model daughter, is later revealed to be ashamed of her dad.
The twist at the end left me a bit puzzled, yet it’s technique is interesting enough to make me want to read it one more time.
Definitely one light volume packed with goodness for the soul.
817 words.
Well, it's probably not a suitable time to post this review. But I figured that since I don't really have anything else at the moment and you'll need something light...Plus, among my articles, this is one of my favourite written work. It isn't too bad either, even if I say so myself.=D
Love, the colour purple.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
It's about time
The title has 2 meanings.
1.It's about time I update
2.It's the answer to YY's query as to what the poem is abt( partly).
So, as I guess that not many people understand it, I'll give a little explanation. 7th. Ave. Local (hereby referred to as 7th.) is based on a photograph on the same name. You can try searching it on the net. 7th.'s also based on my own knowledge of the place/setting (i.e New York, in the old times) and my imagination of what can happen in such place a long time ago.
As this is an assignment, I have to include the criteria that I was asked:to 'imagine being in the place with a hidden microphone and listening to the conversation that takes place' . The conversation included is where the twist lies. You have to read them carefully and imagine the bizarre and weird things that can happen in a place right in middle of arts, entertainment,fashion and business hubs and,most importantly,red-light district .
I'm not gonna tell you everything coz I want you to interpret it your own way and I want to see if you guess correctly. Tell me what you think 7th. is about and I'll tell you whether you understand what I'm trying to convey.
7th. is what my tutor called a narrative poem although I intended it to be a prose poem. And I wrote with a crime/mystery/detective novel genre in mind. I wanted 7th to be the 1st of a few other poems that continue as a series of stories. But I couldn't because of the words limit.
And as I mentioned earlier, the first few lines are about time and the way it passes just like that. Because the narrator is 7th. itself (the street), I wanted to write from it's point of view and how it sees time and the activities around him. It's quite hard to explain this part, but I always find the scene of how time passes in movies fascinating. So I want to try to make the lines to be like a movie reel. I hope you get what I mean.
So that's about as much as I can explain without giving away the twist. Do guess and tell me okay? Would love to hear what you think.
Love, the colour purple.
1.It's about time I update
2.It's the answer to YY's query as to what the poem is abt( partly).
So, as I guess that not many people understand it, I'll give a little explanation. 7th. Ave. Local (hereby referred to as 7th.) is based on a photograph on the same name. You can try searching it on the net. 7th.'s also based on my own knowledge of the place/setting (i.e New York, in the old times) and my imagination of what can happen in such place a long time ago.
As this is an assignment, I have to include the criteria that I was asked:to 'imagine being in the place with a hidden microphone and listening to the conversation that takes place' . The conversation included is where the twist lies. You have to read them carefully and imagine the bizarre and weird things that can happen in a place right in middle of arts, entertainment,fashion and business hubs and,most importantly,red-light district .
I'm not gonna tell you everything coz I want you to interpret it your own way and I want to see if you guess correctly. Tell me what you think 7th. is about and I'll tell you whether you understand what I'm trying to convey.
7th. is what my tutor called a narrative poem although I intended it to be a prose poem. And I wrote with a crime/mystery/detective novel genre in mind. I wanted 7th to be the 1st of a few other poems that continue as a series of stories. But I couldn't because of the words limit.
And as I mentioned earlier, the first few lines are about time and the way it passes just like that. Because the narrator is 7th. itself (the street), I wanted to write from it's point of view and how it sees time and the activities around him. It's quite hard to explain this part, but I always find the scene of how time passes in movies fascinating. So I want to try to make the lines to be like a movie reel. I hope you get what I mean.
So that's about as much as I can explain without giving away the twist. Do guess and tell me okay? Would love to hear what you think.
Love, the colour purple.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
For Yang Yan
7th Ave. Local
I am a street that never sleeps,
in a city that never sleeps.
The time moves. Now it’s dawn, then
it’s dusk. Now it’s summer, then
it’s winter. Snap, snap. Tick, tock.
A child runs to school, bright-eyed,
sweat covered. Teenagers stroll pass, giggling,
mirthful. Parents hurrying home, big coats
flying, puffing white clouds.
Such commonness have I seen.
What of him then?
Him, you asked.
He, with the dejected aura,
tired soul, always finds shelter
under my weathered sign.
With starched suit under his
great coat. A hat, pulled low, to keep out
the cold, the curious eye contact.
Books or newspapers under an arm.
To bide time. So he has a purpose,
seemingly. For what?
For what? Ohh, you mean waiting
for what. I know not…
Then what about her?
Who? The lady beside him.
See, the unusually tall lady in the
fur-lined black coat. With
a fashionable bonnet perched
on her head.
Ahh, she with the audacious stare,
always seeks many a he
under my weathered sign.
That haunted, unflinching gaze,
as though challenging, daring
me to disapprove. What?! But she
is looking straight ahead… Shht!
“’Ave ya got a cigarette, Mister?”
Ahh, countless time have I heard.
Yet… different.
That accent, that hoarseness, that
stiff countenance, betray
such discomfort, in such
impeccable guise.
He, still looking away,
“ Yes, downtown,”
with perfected art of ventriloquism,
without a doll.
And she nods, imperceptibly,
to the crowd, in the opposite
direction. A slight rustle
of her classic dress, and off
she goes. He seems to mumble to himself,
but the wind carries it to her ear,
and to mine.
“As yourself…James. This time
dress as yourself…James.”
In a street that never sleeps,
such strangeness is not unheard of.
My dearest YY, this one is for you coz it seems like you are the most faithful reader.The only one who urges me to update.Lol. Comment k.You hafta give constructive criticism.The others who read this too,please.Thank you very much.This is gonna be graded.Heh..
Love, the colour purple.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Go Green!!!
[Op-ed FinalDraft.doc <Target publication: The Herald Sun Online Opinion Section>].
I'm not a political person. I don't really like politics (school,office,global politics,you name it).Sometimes, though, it is inevitable and unavoidable. After all, it seems to be fundamental in society. So, this piece is for all environmental-conscious buddies out there (apology for those who don't get some of what I refer to as it was meant for the Melbourne audience). And oh yeah, LIVE EARTH concert and Al Gore? I'm sceptical about them. Just think about the cost and electricity and fuel used in the concert itself. Saving Earth? Nuh-uh. More like costing Earth.
Step out, Stomp the pavement.
Commuting in Melbourne seems to be a problem these days.
Earlier this January, parking fees increase from $2.40 to $3.50 an hour.
Recent reports see Melbourne’s petrol price increase by 12 cents a litre. Some consumers complain that in 24 hour, they can see price jumps as high as 17 cents a litre at some stations, especially during weekends.
And Metcard prices have increased from June 3.
Am I greatly affected? No. Why? Because I walk everywhere.
Commuting is inevitable in our daily life. Walking, by right, should be the most common way to commute. From Carlton or the city, it is possible to walk to Smith Street, Brunswick or Royal Park. They take only around 30 minutes. I have done so. And I believe more areas can be reached by foot. As long as you are armed with a map, a mouth and a mind to do it. Yet nobody believes me. My suggestion to walk, even from Melbourne University to the city, is usually greeted with a grimace or even baulked at. It shouldn’t be like that!
Walking will save our body, our wallet, and our Earth. Moreover, we can actually enjoy the scenery around us and think as well. All these, simultaneously. Can we say that when we are traveling by car? No. By tram? No. By bike? No. Can you honestly drink in the surroundings or mull over something without risking your neck?
On May 27, The Age article Gridlock Choking Life Out of City reported that with a “speed of 15 km/h, Melbourne trams are among the slowest 20 per cent in the world”. It added that Melbourne transport system is in crisis. This is emphasized on June 1 when MX reported that more than 8 per cent of Connex trains were late in May.
Ironically, the parallel streets that cause tram problems made it easier to walk around Melbourne. Maybe Melbourne is made for walking after all.
So instead of complaining about another late tram/ train, why don’t we hit the road? By the time we finish griping, we’d have arrived at our destination, possibly sans that calorie too. And did I mention that walking is good for you? Research has shown that walking reduces heart diseases and lowers the risk of getting diabetes.
Walking habit not only promotes healthy lifestyle but also reduces car-dependency. Maintaining a car is not cheap (in both money and environmental sense). So does its production. Likewise with trams and trains. Walking is easy, free, and innate. It not only saves us heaps of transport money, but the environment as well. Motor vehicle is one of the main contributors to air pollution and excess greenhouse gases. These in turn, results in climate change and global warming.
Like many of his counterparts in different countries, Australian politician, Kevin Rudd, said that “the time has come” to do something about climate change and global warming. Yet one has to wonder if his transport use (i.e. car) has not contradicted his speech. Now, if he were to walk to work everyday… Not only would he contribute in reducing noise and air pollution, but also in easing traffic. Hopefully, the walk would also help in clearing his mind, preparing him for work.
We may be skeptical, thinking an individual alone may not achieve a lot of results. But an inspiring individual can do that. Take Sarah Bishop from Townsville. She set out on a ‘green’ trek from Brisbane to Sydney in January 29, this year. She had given talks to a number of schools and was scheduled to reach Sydney on 30th March. Imagine what many individuals would be able to accomplish!
Granted walking may not always be possible in some circumstances. For example if we are sick, or rushing for time, if it’s an emergency, late at night alone or simply because we live so far from our destinations. But when we just want to go for retail therapy, why not walk there? The experience of walking is in itself a therapy.
The sense of adventure from getting lost or discovering a lane we would never have noticed by other modes of transportation is thrilling. The adrenaline rush we get after walking energizes us upon arriving. And the money saved from not paying for transport fees or not going to the gym/ therapy means more pampering.
Australian Pedestrian council has taken the first step (pun not intended) in applying the
national “Walk to Work Day” on October 5th this year. So why don’t we take the next step by participating in it? Better yet, don’t restrict yourself to walking only on those days. Face everyday as though it is a national walking day.
To know more about Sarah and her mission visit http://www.onegiantwalk.org/ . To know more about the walking day visit http://www.walk.com.au/.
781 words
I'm not a political person. I don't really like politics (school,office,global politics,you name it).Sometimes, though, it is inevitable and unavoidable. After all, it seems to be fundamental in society. So, this piece is for all environmental-conscious buddies out there (apology for those who don't get some of what I refer to as it was meant for the Melbourne audience). And oh yeah, LIVE EARTH concert and Al Gore? I'm sceptical about them. Just think about the cost and electricity and fuel used in the concert itself. Saving Earth? Nuh-uh. More like costing Earth.
Step out, Stomp the pavement.
Earlier this January, parking fees increase from $2.40 to $3.50 an hour.
Recent reports see Melbourne’s petrol price increase by 12 cents a litre. Some consumers complain that in 24 hour, they can see price jumps as high as 17 cents a litre at some stations, especially during weekends.
And Metcard prices have increased from June 3.
Am I greatly affected? No. Why? Because I walk everywhere.
Commuting is inevitable in our daily life. Walking, by right, should be the most common way to commute. From Carlton or the city, it is possible to walk to Smith Street, Brunswick or Royal Park. They take only around 30 minutes. I have done so. And I believe more areas can be reached by foot. As long as you are armed with a map, a mouth and a mind to do it. Yet nobody believes me. My suggestion to walk, even from Melbourne University to the city, is usually greeted with a grimace or even baulked at. It shouldn’t be like that!
Walking will save our body, our wallet, and our Earth. Moreover, we can actually enjoy the scenery around us and think as well. All these, simultaneously. Can we say that when we are traveling by car? No. By tram? No. By bike? No. Can you honestly drink in the surroundings or mull over something without risking your neck?
On May 27, The Age article Gridlock Choking Life Out of City reported that with a “speed of 15 km/h, Melbourne trams are among the slowest 20 per cent in the world”. It added that Melbourne transport system is in crisis. This is emphasized on June 1 when MX reported that more than 8 per cent of Connex trains were late in May.
Ironically, the parallel streets that cause tram problems made it easier to walk around Melbourne. Maybe Melbourne is made for walking after all.
So instead of complaining about another late tram/ train, why don’t we hit the road? By the time we finish griping, we’d have arrived at our destination, possibly sans that calorie too. And did I mention that walking is good for you? Research has shown that walking reduces heart diseases and lowers the risk of getting diabetes.
Walking habit not only promotes healthy lifestyle but also reduces car-dependency. Maintaining a car is not cheap (in both money and environmental sense). So does its production. Likewise with trams and trains. Walking is easy, free, and innate. It not only saves us heaps of transport money, but the environment as well. Motor vehicle is one of the main contributors to air pollution and excess greenhouse gases. These in turn, results in climate change and global warming.
Like many of his counterparts in different countries, Australian politician, Kevin Rudd, said that “the time has come” to do something about climate change and global warming. Yet one has to wonder if his transport use (i.e. car) has not contradicted his speech. Now, if he were to walk to work everyday… Not only would he contribute in reducing noise and air pollution, but also in easing traffic. Hopefully, the walk would also help in clearing his mind, preparing him for work.
We may be skeptical, thinking an individual alone may not achieve a lot of results. But an inspiring individual can do that. Take Sarah Bishop from Townsville. She set out on a ‘green’ trek from Brisbane to Sydney in January 29, this year. She had given talks to a number of schools and was scheduled to reach Sydney on 30th March. Imagine what many individuals would be able to accomplish!
Granted walking may not always be possible in some circumstances. For example if we are sick, or rushing for time, if it’s an emergency, late at night alone or simply because we live so far from our destinations. But when we just want to go for retail therapy, why not walk there? The experience of walking is in itself a therapy.
The sense of adventure from getting lost or discovering a lane we would never have noticed by other modes of transportation is thrilling. The adrenaline rush we get after walking energizes us upon arriving. And the money saved from not paying for transport fees or not going to the gym/ therapy means more pampering.
Australian Pedestrian council has taken the first step (pun not intended) in applying the
national “Walk to Work Day” on October 5th this year. So why don’t we take the next step by participating in it? Better yet, don’t restrict yourself to walking only on those days. Face everyday as though it is a national walking day.
To know more about Sarah and her mission visit http://www.onegiantwalk.org/ . To know more about the walking day visit http://www.walk.com.au/.
781 words
Love, the colour purple.
Friday, July 27, 2007
A small victory
Folks, do take a look at this ^^\/..To be frank, I didn't know about this at all until somebody told me.I'm pretty chuffed.But I feel that it's unfair that I'm not being noticed by the publisher at all. Still, I guess i should be happy that I'm featured at all. Heh
http://www2.trinity.unimelb.edu.au/enews/0706.html#article15
Love, the colour purple.
http://www2.trinity.unimelb.edu.au/enews/0706.html#article15
Love, the colour purple.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Waxing Lyrical
My first entry for semester 2!! =D New subjects and new works. But Of course I'll keep the previous sem.'s articles coming. It's just that I'm taking Creative Writing: Autofiction as a subject this sem. so there'll be interludes of short fictions. Hope they keep y'all entertained.
Hey, Hey!! This poem is to all my friends whom I haven't seen for some time. Miss you guys heaps. Btw, I just had my first Autofiction class. We were asked to write, a moment that we had yesterday, on the spot. As you guys may know, I'm not used to this kinda thing. I take a long time to write and polish my writing.But here's something I came up with. Keep in mind that it's a very rough draft. Did it in about 2 minutes I guess. Enjoy!
Hey, Hey!! This poem is to all my friends whom I haven't seen for some time. Miss you guys heaps. Btw, I just had my first Autofiction class. We were asked to write, a moment that we had yesterday, on the spot. As you guys may know, I'm not used to this kinda thing. I take a long time to write and polish my writing.But here's something I came up with. Keep in mind that it's a very rough draft. Did it in about 2 minutes I guess. Enjoy!
Lost and Found
Lost again.
Circling around.
One point
To another
One building
To another.
Circling,
In the same spot.
There it is!
Finally!
Found!
Found!
But what wonders it is,
For something precious also seen,
In the building found.
One friend lost
To time and space.
Lost and Found.
As always, criticism welcomed. I personally think, it lacks something.BUt i gotta go to a meeting now.
Love, the colour purple.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
On the cutting floor
Back to the future
The day old MX is staring me in the face. I’m looking for the point of my Personal Narrative Article (PNA) to no avail. It’s late and I’m exhausted, but I’ve no choice. Flip, flip, flip. Hold that! Two headlines grab my attention. So I stretched a little to keep awake and brace myself to read on.
The first is about a research that shows tanning is an addiction. Ridiculous! Everything seems to be an addiction these days. From sex and alcohol to, now, eating and tanning. Addiction is like the perfect excuse to justify one’s inability to exert self-control. The next thing you know, procrastination and sleeping will be forms of addictions. When that happens, I’ll be the first in line to check myself in for a rehab. But I digress. The point is, it occurs to me that “addiction” is similar to the “devil”. Both terms are abstract. In the past, people tend to blame bad things, like mental illness, on the devil. But they were excused because knowledge was limited then.
The second article is about how more young couples are requesting two master bedrooms – his and hers, in their new houses. Health experts said that separate bedrooms for married people may prolong relationships. Hmm, how amusing. But it immediately reminds me of those medieval aristocratic couples. You see, it was the norm to have master and mistress bedchambers connected and/or separated, depend on how you see it, by dressing rooms.
Now, as disparate as these two news seem to be, both actually show that our lifestyle is going backwards instead of progressing. How so? They show that people’s behaviours and wants are reverting to age-old customs. They also regress to previous stages in life. The female’s fashion trends emphasize my point. Clothes’ designs used to be futuristic and novel. But now, the trend is to have the ‘playsuit and pinafore’ – the clothes toddlers and schoolgirls/housewife from a bygone era tend to wear. And just when I thought that there’s no more ‘classic’ style left to be inspired from, out come ye olde chain-strap handbag. Very classic. Very my grandma when she was young. Even Christina Aguilera is going “back to basics”.
The first is about a research that shows tanning is an addiction. Ridiculous! Everything seems to be an addiction these days. From sex and alcohol to, now, eating and tanning. Addiction is like the perfect excuse to justify one’s inability to exert self-control. The next thing you know, procrastination and sleeping will be forms of addictions. When that happens, I’ll be the first in line to check myself in for a rehab. But I digress. The point is, it occurs to me that “addiction” is similar to the “devil”. Both terms are abstract. In the past, people tend to blame bad things, like mental illness, on the devil. But they were excused because knowledge was limited then.
The second article is about how more young couples are requesting two master bedrooms – his and hers, in their new houses. Health experts said that separate bedrooms for married people may prolong relationships. Hmm, how amusing. But it immediately reminds me of those medieval aristocratic couples. You see, it was the norm to have master and mistress bedchambers connected and/or separated, depend on how you see it, by dressing rooms.
Now, as disparate as these two news seem to be, both actually show that our lifestyle is going backwards instead of progressing. How so? They show that people’s behaviours and wants are reverting to age-old customs. They also regress to previous stages in life. The female’s fashion trends emphasize my point. Clothes’ designs used to be futuristic and novel. But now, the trend is to have the ‘playsuit and pinafore’ – the clothes toddlers and schoolgirls/housewife from a bygone era tend to wear. And just when I thought that there’s no more ‘classic’ style left to be inspired from, out come ye olde chain-strap handbag. Very classic. Very my grandma when she was young. Even Christina Aguilera is going “back to basics”.
I wonder why. Why are everything going backwards now? Is it because at the heart of all these chaos we call life, we just yearn for simplicity? For those innocent times? For when ignorance is bliss? To unclutter the mess we have created? Or have we finally run out of steam? Of new ideas? Of new excuse? That we have to resort to regressing. Is it a good thing? A bad thing?
Between puzzling out these questions, I detect a common factor in the three issues. All of them are brought forward by the younger generations. ‘Youth is the future’ is not a new mantra. It has been used by Hitler. It has been the driving force behind the advertising industries. But if youth are bringing the past back, myself, a youth, shudder to think what the future will be like. Will we go back to the stone age? It seems so anyway. What with the more frequent road rage in the states that demonstrate unchecked tempers. How civilised we have become.
Maybe bringing the past back is not such a bad thing. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about the future. It’s always so much easier to worry about what happened in the past because you know what had happened. With the future, you can’t be too sure.
Now that I have got a new PNA point, my basic instinct is to scrap the old one. At least I’m progressing. And now that I’m done, I’m ready for the age-old tradition of recharging one’s energy – sleeping. Before that, note to self: dig through nanna’s and mum’s old clothes this weekend. And to quote an old movie, “good night and good luck”.
The above is something that doesn't make the cut.It is a first draft which my tutor said was unsuitable for the type of article required.I'll admit that 1st and last paragraphs aren't exactly the most brilliant of my creation.But some people who had read this(including said tutor) found it to be quite humorous.So I'll let you decide for yourself.What do y'all think? Once again, if you find some errors, tell me which one.
Love, the colour purple.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Results
Time passes as always, and my results are out. Not too shabby for my first university results ever.
And now that my folio has been marked and this blog has possibly been given the once over by my tutor, I will be able to upload my other works.Hope you guys look forward to it.
Oh, I would love your comment on each pieces. But please tell me what you find wrong in an article.Otherwise, I wouldn't know what's my mistakes.Alright? Thanks
Love, the colour purple
And now that my folio has been marked and this blog has possibly been given the once over by my tutor, I will be able to upload my other works.Hope you guys look forward to it.
Oh, I would love your comment on each pieces. But please tell me what you find wrong in an article.Otherwise, I wouldn't know what's my mistakes.Alright? Thanks
Love, the colour purple
Monday, June 4, 2007
Self-Promotion
And since i'm already here, having handed in my folio,( yay!) I might as well added more of my achievements because after this , I doubt I will ever blog again. Except when required. So my dear friends, whom I gave this link..sorry about that. But you can check it once in a while.Who knows..
So, other than my Uni blog, called 'culture blogging' for contemporary culture and media subject,
(<=click on the link at the sidebar)
I had dabbled at another new media form.Yep, despite my technophobia I had 'created' a website. Again because it was required. My life is quite ironic this way.
So check it out for my 15-seconds of fame. Before you can criticize the site, i know it's tacky.BUT it was made like 4,5 yrs ago okay.
And by the way, that "first shot at interviewing...Eunice Olsen"? I can proudly say my article was chosen among hundreds of students (some from top schools). The page is nicely framed and hung at my house.
Yeah talking about achievement just give me an idea. Maybe I will just post my whole folio here.
Am going home to crash. And then brace myself for the onslaught of other essays and exams. Wish me luck.
Love, the colour purple
So, other than my Uni blog, called 'culture blogging' for contemporary culture and media subject,
(<=click on the link at the sidebar)
I had dabbled at another new media form.Yep, despite my technophobia I had 'created' a website. Again because it was required. My life is quite ironic this way.
So check it out for my 15-seconds of fame. Before you can criticize the site, i know it's tacky.BUT it was made like 4,5 yrs ago okay.
And by the way, that "first shot at interviewing...Eunice Olsen"? I can proudly say my article was chosen among hundreds of students (some from top schools). The page is nicely framed and hung at my house.
Yeah talking about achievement just give me an idea. Maybe I will just post my whole folio here.
Am going home to crash. And then brace myself for the onslaught of other essays and exams. Wish me luck.
Love, the colour purple
PNA
Target publication: The Herald Sun, The Age’s A2 ‘Features-communication’ or ‘Curly world’ or ‘Couch Life’ section.
A Life in Limbo
A Life in Limbo
Ten years ago, I was sitting on my desk, reading my Indonesian textbook. At that time, it was probably the most interesting book I’ve ever read. The Indonesian folklores, fables and stories transported me to a different dimension. That was my first ‘travelling’ experience.
Ten years down the road, I’m sitting on my desk, reading my Japanese textbook, with English translation and Chinese characters. I’ve read countless genres of books, from classics to popular fictions. My ‘travel bag’ has endured Zeus’ empire, Thor’s thunder, Medieval Europe, Colonial Asia, modern America and Australian outback.
My Australian environmental teacher called us, international students, global citizens. It’s an apt description for me really. Being Chinese (by race) but also Indonesian (by nationality). And having studied in three different countries, being immersed in three completely different cultures in such a young life, qualified me as such.
For many people, being a global citizen is, undoubtedly, great. I certainly have gained a lot from being one. But looking back, I realize that I lost something in the process—my assured feeling of belonging. And let me tell you, having no sense of belonging can be so disconcerting that sometimes I wonder, at the end of the day, when we want to settle down, is global citizenship worth all the turmoil?
As an Indonesian born Chinese, I would be hard pressed to feel belonged in the first place. This is because of the deep-rooted differences between the Chinese and native Indonesians. But, it never troubled me then.
Sure, I was educated in a 99 per cent Chinese Christian school. And I noticed our differences. All the same, I felt Indonesian, albeit of Chinese descent, through and through. Moreover, I had some native tuition friends and teachers. Maybe because the racial and political situation was better then. Or maybe because I was still innocent.
A few years on, I arrived in Singapore shaken and glad to leave my hometown.. My attachment to the country I called home was loosening. It was an uneasy feeling. My childhood friends are my only link to the world I’m loosing connection with.
In Singapore, I feel safe. But the restrictions placed upon foreigners ostracized me. The irony is that Singapore pride herself on being a globalised, multicultural society, like Melbourne. Yet there’s a limit to that self-proclamation which can be seen from both cities’ treatment of international students.
As such, I couldn’t bring myself to love Singapore. So it was with joy that I moved to Melbourne. The moment I saw those endless red soil, I felt warm. The stewardess said it’s 12 degree Celsius. Maybe it’s the warmth of the plane’s blanket that I wrapped around myself. Maybe 12 degree Celsius in Melbourne isn’t that cold. I wouldn’t know. I had never been to any country with a temperature lower than 28 degree Celsius.
Unfortunately, I overheard some story of racism including the redheaded Australian politician, Pauline Hanson, which dampened some of my spirit.
Everything was fine in the first few months. Then one day a guy pushed me for no reason. Since then, I’ve had a few encounters with men shouting abuse or racist comments. I understand that those were isolated cases. And I have many wonderful Australian friends. So I just got on with life.
However, when I went back to Singapore to renew my visa, that displaced feeling returned. At the Australian embassy, a Caucasian girl with a Chinese passport and myself were waiting to be allowed in. The guard inspected my passport and my Australian college I.D. I was asked to stand aside. It was the girl’s turn. There were some queries about her passport, but she was soon allowed in.
I had to wait at the side for twenty minutes before a lady come and identify me. That must be what a detainee feels like—violated. That was the first time I hated my green passport, for it made me feel like a criminal. Every time I whipped out the green book, eyes seemed to watch me more closely, scrutinizing and pre-judging me.
In Melbourne, sometimes, I feel completely dislocated. In limbo. Like a drifting ghost. Home doesn’t feel like home anymore because of the feeling that I have to be ready to run away anytime. Singapore is never my country to begin with, although it is like a second home. So once I’m no longer a foreign student, I’m just a plain foreigner. I can’t help but worry if Melbourne too, would treat me like that.
To me, the word ‘citizen’ is associated with the sense of belonging. And to be a global citizen means to have no sense of alienation from any country. Yet, have anybody ever completely feel that way? When even your own country turn against you? Maybe we can easily fit in a country. But that doesn’t necessarily mean we belonged to the place. That’s why being dubbed a global citizen is something of an oxymoron.
Despite my complains, some events really make me appreciate my global citizenship. One particular experience was highly amusing, but it shows globalization at its best.
I was waiting to board the City Circle tram when this colourfully decorated tram approached. I was quite astounded as the ornaments were a little garish and there’s a loud Indian broadcast from inside the tram. It was the City Circle, so I boarded.
The tram compartment proved to be as lively as its outer decorations. But the most colourful is the commuters. There were people from different countries and races. Korean, Arabian, African, Indian, Germans, American, Australian, you named it, you’ve got it.
Some Anglo-Australian tram officers were walking around asking for our origins and explaining about the tram. One tried to sing along to the Indian songs with an amazing result. I alighted at my destination with just one thought, “wow!” Funnily, I never know what event was going on that day. But I still enjoyed it.
It struck me then. Without my global citizenship, I would never have experienced this mishmash of cultures. I would never have got lost and meet the friendly, helpful Australians. I would never have friends from all over the world. I would never have known that exhilarating feeling when a plane take-off or lands at a strange country. I would never have learnt different languages or read so widely. I would never have escaped the violence in my country. And I would never be who I am today.
At the end of the day, even with cons that seems to outweigh pros, I guess it’s worth the turmoil after all.
1099 words
Love, the colour purple
Thursday, May 31, 2007
NOT AGAIN!!
Testing 1,2,3..ok. I have to make a blog again for my uni. After being subjected to blogging without choice for the semester and now this, I'm starting to wonder if i will ever escape this blogging phenomenon. ANyway, just testing. I hope this blog works. Btw, check out my other blog.Hehe a bit of self-promotion wouldn't hurt.
Love, the colour purple
Love, the colour purple
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