Blogging's taking a back seat.

Not that I have been blogging consistently lately, but school's getting quite hectic and I find myself with significantly lesser time to write proper blog posts. Apologies to people who come here expecting a good read, I really cannot find time to sit down and write long articles like I have done before.

I will officially put blogging on a lower priority, but I will try to keep it at least active, or somewhat updated. No promise of full-length writings though.

And oh, I have decided to stop replying to all tags on my tag board as well, simply because it looks quite dumb. I guess I will just drop by your blog and leave a reply if I need to. Tags and comments still welcomed, of course.

It's really quite depressing sometimes when you sit on the train and inspiration pops into your brain, and you start planning a blog post, only to return home reminded of the stack of tutorials and assignments waiting for you. It really kills any interest to blog, and any spare time. (Who ever said Uni students had spare time?)

To be honest, this is the first time in my entire life that I am genuinely working hard for school. No, I'm not saying I'm one of those dumb asses who fooled around and got straight A's back in earlier school days - I had my fair share of F's and E's and D's and... basically everything except A's, but this time, I really find that I am kind of stretching myself to the limit.

Discipline, some call it. Torture, that's what it is. Cone on, who on Earth deprives themselves of daily pleasures like chatting on MSN, Fackbook/Friendster/My Space -ing, or the occasional computer game, etc. (Oh wait, 'occasional' is a really relative term, like back in Secondary school, occasional was once a day, and frequent was twice - basically, play, dinner, play again, sleep.)

Oh look. I unknowingly created a rather long post. Hurray. Cheers. Whoopie.

And if I carry on like this, I will miss my last possible train. And just FYI, last train means I will arrive at lessons 5 minutes late.

No, just kidding. Off to school. Again.

1, 2, 3.

One whore, two whores, three horses.

Dang, I miss the old usual hangouts, I miss the cranky moments.

Basketball bloopers.

Came across this video on a visitor's blog. (Han Sheng)



It took me awhile to realize what actually happened. Oh well.

Election woes.

Now, I'm not a big fan of the US electons and whatever, and neither do I have a preferred candidate. Here's a little quote I came across today.

"The problem with being Democrat is that if you vote for Obama, you're sexist. And if you vote for Hilary, you're racist. Its easy being a Republican. No matter what you're retarded."

Ouch.

Two months.

It's two months since I have arrived for studies, and it has been quite an experience. School here's not as easy as I'd expect it to be, but I'm doing better than I expected myself to. Of cource, this won't mean that I'm going to lose steam anytime soon. It's a promise I made, and it's one I will keep.

It's another two months plus before I'm flying back home for the semester break. Really can't wait to get home as well. Dying to meet up with everyone back home as well.

Alright, done with the quick updates, going back to some work now.

Reflections of a flame.

As the fires burn out, it sits, crackling. The self, it sits quietly beside. A reflection, perhaps, of what was. And as it stares silently, a trickle forms, leading down to the burnt ground.

Sizzle.

What unnecessary actions, what stupidity. Once it started, stepping back against a wall helps no more than to shield the face with his hands. Flesh, it burns the same in the flame, to a sizzling sound that remains, much like a ringing sound trapped in the ears after silence falls. Silence - filled with eeriness, with pain, with guilt, with disappointment, with hurt. With tears.

And it seems impossible to speak out anymore. One wrong tips more fuel, resulting in another all-too-familiar recurrence. What then? The self realizes: he can only offer his hands, at least while he can still use them, till consumed.

As the self sits and stares, the fire waits, expecting more fuel, expecting more flesh. Till death, till nothing to burn exists. And it shall crackle on till it burns itself out.

Squish the litter bugs.

Singapore has always been a joke for being a 'fine city'. Ask any Singaporean citizen and they can probably wax lyrical about the countless ways to get a chance to make a contribution to government fund.

I used to think that it was absurd to have to slap a fine on someone for eating on the bus and trains, for parking by the roadside without valid reasons, for not giving way to the fire truck, for not wearing a seat belt, for cluttering the corridor with rubbish, or dropping a piece of tissue on the road. It seemed to me that the measures to discourage such actions would lead to people becoming too reliant such that they eventually become morally weak and unable to make sensible decisions once these regulations are removed. Not that they ever would be, but I tend to belief that moral education was more important than just by fines itself.

Seeing how things are over here, I am starting to believe that some people just need the fine to keep their tissue and wrappers to themselves. I find it absolutely disgusting and disturbing at how some people can leave their waste on the trains without even feeling bad for dirtying the trains.

I was on the train to school two days ago when I witnessed how one guy bent down after finishing his breakfast, left the wrapper on the ground, then sat upright again, as if nothing has happened. He was sitting just a row away from the "No Food/Drinks Allowed... No Littering... Please keep the trains and stations clean." sign, but he could not even bother to keep to simple instructions. And to add to that, he tried to use his legs to slowly kick the wrapper under the opposite seat, like how a child would attempt to hide sweets in his hands behind his back when caught by momma. When he realized I was watching him hide his little wrapper, he pulled his leg back, looked up and put on a really innocent face.

Innocent. I'd love to pinch those cheeks. And bloody rip them off.

Looking at how dirty the trains can get, and how much graffiti there is all over the train walls, I cannot comprehend why no action is taken at all to stop such nonsense. Similarly, I cannot understand why people cannot simply do some good and drop their waste into a bin, rather than the train floor. It's not as if they would need to take a detour, the bin would be right within range while walking out of the train to the escalator. Maybe having live in a 'fine city' for some time, it's become second nature to realize how inconsiderate it would be to chuck your trash just anywhere. Maybe the fines did somehow help educate, rather than act as a pure deterrent, and helps cultivate good habits.

Maybe the fines here don't hurt people enough, or are too light to be taken seriously. Alternative solution? I guess it'll be perfect to go over and say "Excuse me sir, I believe you accidentally dropped your breakfast wrapper after consuming your food on the train." Maybe I will do so next time and I would probably even pick it up and hand it over to him. And also, make sure that everyone around him realizes what just happened.

So You Think You Can Dance: Australia.

Tomorrow night's the grand finals for So You Think You Can Dance: Australia. Can't wait.

Anyways, here are two of the dances I quite enjoyed in the earlier rounds.

Coffee-loving fly.

If you are a die-hard coffee-lover, read on. Even if you aren't one, just read on as well.

While having my usual cuppa outside the law building this afternoon, I pondered over my spending habits since I arrived here in Australia. While it is highly indubitable that I have cut down on unnecessary expenses that I would otherwise have deemed as ‘usual expenses’ back home, I am still quite embarrassed at some of my spending habits. Ironically, the problem was lying right in my hands – yes, that cappuccino I am usually unable to resist whenever I pass by any coffee joint. The only consolation I get out of this is that at least I have stopped being a Starbucks freak, and my $7.50-a-cup Java Chip Frappaccino is now replaced with a somewhat cheaper hot cappuccino.

What I thought about made me realize that it sometimes isn’t exactly about the huge dollars you spend, it’s the teeny weenie bits here and there, and it usually takes some time before you realize that these little bits contribute to a really huge hole in your pocket (something like a huge ozone problem); yes it took me a couple (okay, a lot more) of drinks to realize how much I have wasted.

Next time you step into any coffee joint, realize how intelligently these people are at setting traps for consumers (read: dumbasses) like us to, uhm, step into. The usual pricing you’d see is say, $3.10 for a small, $3.70 for a medium, and $4.20 for a large. Notice how the price changes? And I think this is one of those sticky-papers that dumb flies like me land right on. You step in, looking at a small cup and go, “Ahh, I’ll go medium.” Then, what you do next is ‘subconsciously’ compare the price of the large, and go “Hey! It’s only 50c more, why not?”

Yeah, really! Why not? Why not smack yourself in the face, you dumb fly.

It’s like saying “I’m going to pay 60c more anyways, so why not top another 50c!” Stupid as it sounds, I always end up ‘accidentally’ fall for this. The only consolation I can get from this is that it’s accidental, not that I’m absolutely dumb to realize that spending an extra 50c is in fact, spending an extra 50c, not “getting a better deal.”

If you do the math, (yeah look, a dumb fly about to talk about math here) you find that if you did yourself - and your pocket - a favor by not going large and saving yourself the 50c, or even better, $1.10 by going small, you kind of save yourself an entire cup of coffee by the 5th or even 3rd drink.

This beats those stupid cards that go “Enjoy 10 nice warm coffees and get your next one absolutely FREE!” which I once again, being a dumb fly, fall for without any hoaxing from the staff at the coffee joint. Then again, that’s another story altogether, because dumb flies cannot process too much information within a blog post or their puny-but-mathematically-inclined brains might go ‘pop’.

Buzz off.

Pop!

Mere existence.

There is this feeling in me I dread, that I might not be as comfortable here as I thought I was. It is as if I feel a barrier of sorts, not the physical ceiling I stare at every night, but a weird distance I cannot put my finger to.

There is a vast difference between living in the same house and existing under the same roof, and that difference can be what makes a home a home, rather than an occupied house. It is the source of happiness (and unhappiness if lacking) to it's occupants, and that happiness brings with it great comfort and warmth in the house.

I have said too many times how 'harmony' and 'tolerance' are two totally different things, and I am now experiencing (at least I think I am) that difference at first hand. I have been pondering over this for some time already, almost half a month, but I still cannot find the key to that irrtating barrier. No, it is not absolute, and it does not hinder my life in anyway (yet), but I believe that this can only bring no good in the distant future.

My only guess now is that language does makes a difference. It is not that I am unable to use another mode of communication, and neither is it that the others cannot do so in return - in fact, I am confident everyone involved can communicate efficiently in both forms, but I guess we somehow feel uneasy doing so. Ironically, I used to do so when I was 'at work', and perhaps that side of me was meant to be left in places as undesirable as those, not to be brought into my life at home. Unfortunately, it seems that the circumstances have changed, and I might need to adopt that same 'working style' of communication, albeit with some minor adjustments to the actual words used to be slightly more family-oriented/friendly.

Worst case scenario? If it really does not work out, then I guess it just shows that we have all changed pretty much since we last knew each other, and maybe some distance would be natural. And if it means that I am to leave, then so be it. I don't feel bitter or anything at all, but if things really aren't improving, I do not see a point in any of this. Not at all. For now, we'll see how it goes. I just hope I have been a little too sensitive at times, and that I misread some of the intentions.

I hope I am right about the last bit.