gahmen jargon lesson

Today, my gahmen taught me two new words. I'm so excited about my new-found vocab, I can't wait to share it with you.

*rushes to smooth creases on shirt, straighten collar and clear throat*

Word number one: workfare

A workfare scheme refers to an incentive scheme that will help low-wage workers, only if they make every effort to find or keep jobs. Workfare was inspired by the word "welfare".

Word number two: right-sizing

Not a new word, actually. Often used to refer to retrenchments, it also now means family planning. A sentence using the new meaning could go like this: "Mr Tan, who has a brood of five kids, has finally decided to right-size his family because he can't afford to send a sixth one to school."

(PS: I hereby clarify that I'm in no way against the new measures to help my fellow Singaporeans. In fact, I applaud them.)

i miss NTU

It's true....I do miss NTU.

Went back there today to interview some students for my freelance work. And I swear Canteen A/North Spine/South Spine/SCS/Everything Including NIE were calling out to me.

I think it's because I kept comparing being there to being at NUS. At NUS, there seems to be this invisible boundary that I've unknowingly drawn out for myself - if I step across the line, I'm just simply going to get lost. I mean you would think that if a block was called AS6, then AS5 should be next to it right? But no...err...I still don't know where AS5 is.

So as I admired the soothing grey facade of my beloved NTU, and took comfort in the angularity and organised structure of the various blocks, I couldn't help but feel...at home again. (Though during my first year there, the school look was just plain boring. How age changes your perspective! Heh.)

So anyways, all you ex-CS people, you know Canteen A (the engineering canteen) now has Macs????? YES!!!! That huge yellow M was shining so bright I could have shielded my eyes from it. And hor, now all the stalls got big bright signboards with colourful pictures of food leh. All to tantalise your tastebuds.

And hor, as you walk up the stairs to where the computer shop is, you see awnings that look like the sails of a yacht - to provide shade for students. How thoughtful.

And of course, I couldn't resist paying Shyam a visit at our good ol' CS building. As usual, from afar, I noticed his office was damn dark. Then I remembered, he works in the dark!!! (with a dim lamp that somehow helps him see.) Peered through his window and he was there!!!

How nice to see this dear ol' jet-setting prof again! I mean, he was actually in town! But oh well, he had only three minutes to class, so we couldn't really talk.

Ok can't type more, need to go for my own class. Back to old ah pek lecturing on substance abuse again :)

yaaawn.... (and then I take it back)

Life's a little boring, but I'm not unhappy.

Everyday I sit at home in front of my PC and edit long sentences and scientific jargon written by engineering academics. Think "electro-atomization" and "rare earth nano materials", and the occasional misspelling (one s or two s-es???) of "atomization" as "atomoization", which makes you wonder if "atomoization" is a legitimate scientific term you never knew.

Oops, that sentence was long isn't it?
Feel free to edit.

Lunch means popping downstairs for either a bowl of yong tau foo kway teow - in soup. Or, tang hun (glass noodles). Uncle, I want yu yuan (fishball) de.

Then it's off to school at 5pm, in order to reach class at 6.30pm.

Lesson starts lesson ends.

I'm just glad I still get to watch America's Next Top Model. Tyra loses it next Monday! Watch out for the screaming match!

:)

support

One self-awareness class at school has made me think hard about the "unfinished business" I have with myself. It's stuff like this that you sweep under the carpet that makes you go through sudden spurts of grief, something you can't really explain yourself.

I figured if I want to help others next time, I need to help myself first because the stuff that happens to me colours the way I see other people's problems. And in a way, I think blogging is helping me to articulate my unspoken feelings in a less confrontational manner - I don't need to tell anyone in person, and that makes me feel safe. (I know the whole world can read it, but it's helping me, so what the heck.)

I have decided to join a suicide survivors support group started by the Samaritans of Singapore. Attended a one-to-one get-to-know-you session with an elderly counsellor on Saturday.

In a way, even through that 45-minute session, I managed to suss out some reasons for my difficult-to-explain sadness. I'm beginning to realise that although I am plagued by guilt from my grandpa's suicide, I'm also suffering from the cumulative effects of have lost three loved ones to death. And also perhaps reasons for bottling my grief within myself, and my frustration at why deaths have to result in unpleasant repercussions in other pple's lives.

I believe I need to come to a point where I can talk about my sadness without bursting into tears. I really hope that in some way, the support group will help.

I need to find some closure, that's for sure.

And I must say, it was damn scary taking that first step.

The river runs through it

I have just finished reading Norman Maclean's autobiographical book, The River Runs Through It. Set against the beautiful mountains and rivers of Montana, Maclean tells a tale of brotherly love - and loss - through a religious penchant for fly-fishing shared by his Scottish minister father, his journalist younger brother, and himself.

His younger brother Paul (which the book hints to have alcohol issues, betting problems and a violent streak as a result of drinking) is eventually brutally murdered. The family's love for Paul is strong. Yet, as with many families, they grapple with the fact that while they loved him, they never really understood him. Or, perhaps, they did not have the chance to understand him.

Here are some excerpts that have particularly touched me...

I watched the road carefully, saying to myself, hell, my brother is not like anybody else. He is my brother and an artist and when a four-and-a-half-ounce rod is in his hand he is a major artist. He doesn't piddle around with a paint brush or take lessons to improve his short game and he won't take money even when he must need it and he won't run anywhere from anyone, least of all to the Arctic Circle. It is a shame I do not understand him.

Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brothers' keepers", possessed of one of the oldest and possibly one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting of instincts. It will not let us go.

and...

For some time, though, he (Paul's father) struggled for more to hold on to. "Are you sure you have told me everything you know about his death?" he asked. I said, "Everything." "It's not much, is it?" "No," I replied, "but you can love completely without complete understanding." "That I have known and preached," my father said.

and finally, this statement by Paul's father haunts me the most...

"It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us."

I HAVE LOW SELF ESTEEM

WAH LAU!!!! Did anyone see Olinda Cho on the back page of ST Life today???? She's a frigging 57kg!!!!!!!!!!! Down from 72kg!!!!!

How is that possible???????? She looks SVELTE...SLim...

I have two miniscule kilograms I have been working to get rid of for FOUR years, they just won't disappear. AAARGGHHH!!!! I need a slimming endorsement!!!!

what's your passion?

I wish I could call playing music my passion. But if passion was measured by the time I spend practising my electric piano, acoustic guitar and vocal chords, I think it should be called an occasional pastime - at best.

Should I thank God that I'm able to play the piano decently for my church worship services? I suffer from the jitters every time the good pianists (they play for gigs and teach music) are in the congregation, because I know I can't hide my lack of practice. Sorry God, I know I'm supposed to give you my best.

The skin on my fingers is as soft as cotton now. Without the callousness, pressing guitar strings is a pain. Literally. To think that I used to compose songs with that beloved instrument. Actually, that was partly due to James' influence.

James the music fanatic composes songs, improves his jazz guitar like nobody's business and spends his money freely on music recording equipment. But James has, for many months, stopped bugging me with the MSN message: "New song?"

How do some people possess such enduring passion? What's your passion? If you have one - that is.

private blog, an oxymoron

I much prefer to keep my blog private, though a private blog is an oxymoron I know, given the that fact that it's hosted on the Internet. Ah well, since I quite enjoy blogging, I shall continue hoping that if this blog is chanced upon by people, they will be pleasant folks!

Was pretty freaked out yesterday when I checked the URLs that visitors to my blog came from. Unfortunately, when I decided to post them up today, the URLs had been replaced by more recent URLs.

ANYWAY. One link was a google search for, get this, fat girl with white butt and another was for f4 girls (the latter I believe to be a hunt for the new Taiwanese foursome validated by cup sizes not smaller than F!!! Got bra that big meh???)

FAINT.