Of comfort and a little bit of pain February 9, 2010

As a sort of follow-up to my previous post, I recall mentioning that suppression was the sole method of dealing with such pent-up emotions or frustrations whenever I was in dire need of comfort but couldn’t get any. And today, I learnt that what a lot of people do is to call their friends and have a good cry over the phone, which is something I’ve never even thought of doing before, much less done.

 

It’s not that I remain emotionally unwavered and unmoved by things that upset me that I don’t even cry that often, but rather when I DO cry, I do so in the comfort of my own room, the doors chained and bolted, no one allowed to see this side of me that I strive to keep only to myself. I cry on my own, attempt to comfort myself, often futilely might I add, and then I take out a pen and my diary and I write. Most of the more recent entries inside are a result of such incidents, and many are messy and scrawled in brightly coloured ink, some are even tear-stained. In fact, I would say that all are a result of me feeling maligned when my intentions were only good yet I was accused of ill motives that I never even once considered, and when I tried to explain myself and the way I do things no one believed me, even though I don’t lie. Such frustration I face to put my point across and the indignance that rises up within me, in addition to the internal conflict that I should let this matter rest but at the same time I want so badly to clear my name, is enough to reduce anyone to tears isn’t it?

 

I envy people whose comfort is only a phone call away. When I asked some of my friends today if they felt bad by taking up another person’s time when they were in need of comfort, they said no, because that’s what friends are supposed to be there for. And yet I’ve never met a person or had a close friend who I can be that way with. And this I’m not blaming my friends, partly because of the huge workload in school that is crushing all of us, partly because some things are just not anyone’s fault, it’s just how things naturally work.

 

Ok short post is over. My entire body is aching because of the brutal PE session today. Although, I have to say, I found great motivation to take PE lessons more seriously. The muscle aches. Most of you should know that I’m slightly masochistic, in a weird Kerryn way. I like the sensation of bruises, grazes and muscle aches, but cuts and cramps are a no-no. My pain tolerance level is pretty low, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying some forms of it, and it’s not like I purposely inflict harm on myself just to feel the pain. Besides, even if I do, all I’d do is to exercise more for more muscle aches, which is actually beneficial for someome as unfit as me. I’m clumsy enough to obtain bruises even if I don’t want them, and accidental grazes would pack more authenticity than deliberate fall-triggered ones.

 

 Yeah, and I hope you’re not freaked out by what I just said, but if you are I wouldn’t blame you.

The search for a source of comfort February 5, 2010

I feel like I’m in despair, for no particular reason that  can identify. And not knowing the cause to it frustrates me more than the feeling itself, as I’ve said many times before. And I that’s how I always end up blogging, because there’s no other way I can get it out, and the more it stays inside the more the bitterness and misery continues to build up.

 

Maybe saying this will be doing my friends a great injustice, but throughout my life, I never felt like I had any real source of comfort, even now. At the end of the day, when I sit down at my desk, mulling over a problem perhaps deemed to minor to worry over, I realise I don’t really have anyone I can talk to about it, and not feel bad that I’m taking up that person’s time. I do confide in friends from time to time, but every time I do so, I have to do it selectively. I’m always holding something back, because there’s still some things I feel I can’t tell them. So I tell different friends different problems, different aspects of my life, but none of them are really in touch with ALL of what I’m going through.

 

Like Anne Frank said, I have not yet found the person who I can find true comfort with, so the search must go on. And while I’m surrounded daily by people and friends and family, I still feel lonely and long for someone who I can talk to about anything, anything at all, someone who understands my thoughts and personality, right down to my deepest fears to my sometimes strange desires. And as I was growing up, I kept up this hope that such a person existed and would be someone I would meet in time to come, but as I grow older, the hope has waned and diminished so much that I no longer wish to hold anymore hope now to save myself the disappointment.

 

So what does one do when there’s no real source of comfort, and what you really need is someone to talk to? You suppress those feelings, those thoughts, and hope that it goes away. You keep doing it till it snowballs into a massive torrent of unhappiness that rains down on you all of a sudden, with all your cherished memories, lost hopes, forgotten anger and hurt rushing through your mind like a fast-forwarded movie. Everything adds up, and whether it is or isn’t any fault of your own, you silently blame those around you for causing you such misery, even if they didn’t directly or intentionally do it. Every time there’s always a person to blame for your unhappiness, although if you think about it now, it’s not so much got to do with the way you see things and your attitude, but more of the fact that you were the one who actually let down your guard and allowed them to do such things that would affect you so deeply now.

 

Such suppression is never a comfortable feeling to have, nor is it mentally healthy, but there’s nothing I can do about it, because what else is there to do if I don’t suppress? I need to talk about what I’m not happy about, what I think it making me feel that way, and in our society, that’s complaining. WHen you complain, you’re being judged by hundreds of narrow-minded people who jump at any opportunity to compare others based on the little understanding of the complexity of human feelings that they have, and why would you want such a blow to your self esteem when you’re already feeling down enough? The last thing I want to have when I’m already feeling sad is to have people constantly condemn me in so many ways when they will never in a million years have any idea how I felt at all, all that will do is to make me feel worse, won’t it?

 

There’s actually a lot more on my mind that I wish to put into words, but it deosn’t seem right, because those thoughts are too private to be published in such a public place, especially since I don’t trust what I’m feeling right now, and I’m pretty exhausted anyways. Gonna have an early night, dozing off as I type.

First time at Aston’s! February 3, 2010

Yeah yeah, call me noob. I’ve lived in Singapore for my entire life and I’d never eaten at Aston’s until a week ago wtih my cousin. I didn’t even have any intention of going there, but I was so sick of CSE IS that I felt I NEEDED to go out for a short while, to indulge myself in things that would not disappoint me any further, non-commital things that would make me happy, and the only thing that fits that criteria would be food. Ok, and also, I didn’t want to spend a lot.

We went to the outlet at Beach Road, hoping to avoid crowds, because I was nearby at the National Library doing research before that, so it was convenient too. And although it seemed a little out of place to me, there was still a queue, albeit a short one.

Restaurant Sign

 

Black Pepper CHicken Chop with Pasta salad and Onion Rings

MY FOOD! Chicken was pretty good, enough sauce to go around till the very last morsel, not burnt, large enough for a main course yet small enough to not make you sick of it. Regret getting the pasta salad though. Nothing special about it, and it tasted quite plain as well. Should get another side dish next time.

 

Barbeque Chicken Chop with Fries and Potato Salad

My cousin’s order! The fries have this seasoning sprinkled over it, and I’d go with fries too, but my mum bans me from them so I try to avoid it when I can. Also, I eat potato salad often at home. This potato salad was a little different from the ones you usually get though I can’t pinpoint the reason why. Does it contain egg? Hmm.

 

And everywhere I go, I play with food! I think the eyebrows look like Crayon Shinchan.

 

LOL, Menu. Doubt you can see anything though. I was using my phone camera. Hate having to lug a digital camera around.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Unenthusiastic sounding post? Yeah, figures.

 

Its only been a few weeks into J2 and I’m already feeling burnt out. Aside from people I like to be around, food is the main thing that keeps be going. And I’m serious. Every day i look forward to breaks so I can get something nice to eat. I look forward to dinner so I can fill my mouth with flavours again. I don’t exactly eat more than I do when I’m stressed, but I definitely appreciate food and look forward to it more.

 

Also, I need to take better care of my health. I’ve been having really late nights, nights I consider ‘me’ time to talk to friends, surf the net, do my on thing without disturbance from others, just because school takes up so much of my time that I have to dig time form my sleep to make time for myself. And it’s showing. I need to aim to sleep at 12, and sleep BY 1, unless I’m really rushing a piece of homework all the way. Today the back of my eyes started to ache a little and I KNOW its from the effects of sleeping late. The JC years are really taking a toll on my health though. And I’m not blaming the school, I’m talking in general, ever since I entered JC last year, I’ve been falling sick more often.

 

Plus I think I really need to learn to manage my time better, although estimates of how long each activity will last is never accurate. I hate school. Screw the A Levels. I need 3 years.

J2 rants January 29, 2010

|Music| ‘Speeding Cars’ – Imogen Heap

I realised that I never quite said anything much about J2, about school life, homework, lessons and subjects. And I think that this post is going to escape sooner or later from all that pent up stress that we J2s will inevitably experience, so I might as well get some release now to allow some space for new thoughts to flood my mind. (Ok yes I am aware the human brain is too wonderful an organ to have memory space limits, but still, ranting is cathartic) I know I did do a post on how much I loathed research, but that’s going into specifics. This post shall be like any other schoolish rant that I often post up on my blog.

 

Firstly, whatever happened to J2s having better timetables. My timetable SUCKS. I have so many weird empty spaces in between my classes, due to lessons placed in those spaces that I don’t need to go for. Last year, all the lessons that I was supposed to have were all placed in front, so that all the other classes I didn’t take were scheduled AFTER my lessons ended. That was great. And I wouldn’t be complaining this much if all my lessons were in school, but I still have to travel to german class twice a week, which is time consuming and placed at the end of the day, so its tiring as well. The least they could’ve done was to make my time table similar, or the same as last years, because since I’m the one having to study a subject OUT of school, my convenience should be given priority, no? I find that justified, even if I may sound a bit spoilt and whiny.

 

Also, the reality of being J2 is sinking in. I feel bad when i spend my free time relaxing and slacking and on FB or watching Tv because I feel like i should be practising math or studying. The guilt is so overbearing that I’ve been forcing myself to do at least a bit of work a day, no matter how little(like revising half a chapter of math or doing an essay) not because I’m hard working but just to ease the burden on my poor guilt-ridden soul. Besides, its also going along with my efforts to be more disciplined and less flowy(as Rae describes it). My self discipline is weak, but my self motivation, when I’m really motivated that is, is surprisingly strong. The problem here is that there doesn’t seem to be much motivation nowadays. The only things that keep me going on really bad stressful days when everything seems to demoralize you further are friends, family and food. Aliteration not intended. Without these I honestly don’t know how I’d pull through.

 

So maybe I’m over doing it on the “OMG IM SOOOOO STRESSED!” bit. But it IS stressful. Maybe it doesn’t show because our workloads don’t seem very much, and in JC people still manage to look like they’re having fun even when they have CTs round the corner. But the stress is there. Looking at how clever and smart and intellectual everyone around you is, you feel pressured to be like that even though you’ve pushed yourself so much that you don’t know where to go anymore. The way the hours in school never seem to end, then once school ends, it seems like you’re only home for awhile then you leave for school again. In fact, every waking hour is spent on school. If not IN it then at the very least, thinking about it. Even lessons have turned stale and uninteresting, sucking the meaning out of learning. Its so horrible that I dread going to school every morning more than I have ever dreaded school in my life.

 

Yet somewhere there’s this glimmer of hope, or whatever you wish to call it, that everything’s going to be fine. And if everything doesn’t turn out fine, I know that I’ll still not regret doing anything I did this year, because I felt that I truly DID grow a lot last year, through invaluable  experiences that I’d definitely relive all over again, even if they did suck at that time.

 

********Food post next. Tired of posting without photos, I need more colour injected into my posts!!!!!

Dusk January 26, 2010

Embarassingly long post on such a simple subject. Had the sudden inspiration to write about dusk as I pondered over the beauty of it earlier today.

Feel free to ignore this post!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dusk. No doubt my favourite time of day.

I love everything about it. I love the way the sky is darkening so quickly and yet appearing to do so agonisingly slowly before your eyes. I love the way it casts a soft bluish tinge on whatever manages to catch its light. And I love the way the streetlights and houses light up one by one, preparing for the impending darkness of the night ahead. It contains a type of beauty that I seem to find harder and harder to see around me as I grow up, a beauty that I long to experience  so deepy and badly that my heart aches. It’s the type of beauty that makes you feel like you’re in a state of semi-conciousness, in a sort of limbo between a dream and reality, because it appears too beautiful to be real although you know it is.

In the toilet earlier, I saw the fading daylight filtering in through the top window, landing the room in a state of half-brightness, too dark to see clearly, too bright to make me want to turn on the light and ruin that perfect moment. That perfect moment of the day when the room seems to be cast in a dark blue shadow, filling the atmosphere with a kind of magic and wonder, like fairy dust had just been sprinkled all over the face of the Earth, working its wonders silently. It reminds me of the feeling I got when I was a child and knew that fairies didn’t exist, but continued to carry that hope anyway, because it hurt too much to truly accept and know that they didn’t, especially for someone who lives in a fantasy world half the time. I still carry that feeling now.

Such intense beauty is something extremely hard to come by. It’s the thing that inspires and drives and motivates me to do better, to believe in the good of people, and to fill my heart with such calmness that soothes any worries almsot instantly. Outisde, the magic of dusk works its effect a little differently. Indoors, it seems to be compacted into a small space, with a certain richness that overwhelms you. Outdoors, the light isn’t as illuminating, its paler, more translucent, spread out over the uneven urban landscape of roads and buildings, trees and houses. Yet it is its magic that seems to bring everything together to look as one, although residences and places are distinctly separated and set apart from one another. It makes imperfection perfect, creates unity out of the differences, without rectifying any flaws. Suddenly, the unfinished building looks complete standing as it is, the awkward row of old houses look perfectly in place beside towering blocks of condominiums and flats, and my favourite, the cars rushing past at peak hour on the expressway, ever moving amongst everything else that remains still.

I cannot believe I just wrote 3 paragraphs on the beauty of dusk. Maybe such beauty seems exaggerated, but I just want it and desire it and search for it so much that even as a figment of my own imagination, its real to me. I crave moments like these so badly that it might even have been a manifestation of my own mind to deceive myself that as long as I look hard enough, such beauty exists and can be experienced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grrr. This post is kind of draggy and sentimental, although it allowed for some mental release before I stress myself up again over proposal editting, math tutorials and geography projects. Above all, the physical pain that PE is constantly causing me.

I fail at research and writing January 25, 2010

I am at a loss for words.

There is no way I am going to be able to write like how sociologists and economists and political scientists do in books examining whatever interplay of factors influencing social control and political legitimacy. I can’t seem to find any words to express myself in the writing style suited for proper academic studies, a type of language which puts simple ideas into big words, using the variety of technical terms and vocabulary to make clear whatever the author wished to shed light on. I’m having so much trouble, and this is only with the writing. Once the logical and rational analysis starts, I see myself dying, brain cell by brain cell, minute by minute spent poring over books too incomprehensibly filled with unknown jargon for me to understand.

I’m struggling wtih everything. The research, because it bores me to tears to read non fictional books analysing social processes when I KNOW that there are great works of fiction just a few storeys below. The writing, because my own style of writing is so free-spirited that I can’t fit it into the structured, cold-sounding templates of a research paper. I’ve tried, I guess my own flexibility has its limits, and I watch myself reusing the same old words again and again, each time getting more and more discouraged as I do so. It’s not that I don’t recognise the words used by such pieces of academic works, it’s just that I can’t twist my mind to use those words in that way, and that’s a major weakness. In fact, everything that a good researcher possesses, I fail at.

And yes, I spot the contradiction in my own post. What with me saying that I don’t understand the technical jargon used in the wide field of social science and then stating in the second paragraph that I know the words, I just can’t write them out myself. I guess I should clarify. I recognise the words, but when they’re strung together in such a way to reflect the complexity of a certain view of a certain social issue, I find my head spinning with the sudden throng of those words, especially used with one another. Because I’m inexperienced and noobish, I’m used to seeing certain words only being used a certain way, and when I see them used in a way which is incredibly foreign to my brain, I take awhile to get used to it.

Also, what makes is all the more unbearable is how unemotive the language is. How it doesn’t appeal to your feelings and senses or strike some chord in your heart, how all it wants to do is to prove that a certain perspective is logical and hence correct, deliberately avoiding to touch on the sensitivity of people. Such books are what I have to read for research, and one of the types of books that I have to force myself to read, which is absolute torture, since I normally love reading.

Above all, I hate how time-consuming it all is. I hate having to get home, expecting some good rest to prepare my mind for the enxt day in school. But after I get home from school, I end up doing schoolwork at home. So it’s still school anyway! And because I am so adamant in my stand to claim some ‘me’ time for myself, I take that time out of my sleep instead of managing my time properly, resulting in my getting only about 4-5 hours of sleep a night, barely enough at all.

Ok, my rant is over. And at least friends make it a little more bearable.

Cousins Grandeur 2010 January 18, 2010

Photo credits: Hansel Desmond

(See, I put it right in front instead of at the back where it usually is!)

 

I never thought that the cousins’ outing would materialize, but it did, and I’m glad. I had loads of fun yesterday, although it meant that I had to rush my CSE IS Proposal till 2am. Kinship and friendship over work anyday.

 

Bowling

I got one strike, and almost half of my other shots went into the drain.

 

 

 

Jump Shots outside Marina Square

And it was HOT. Background is great though, and I’m still amazed at how Amos could take good jump shots so easily with everyone in the air at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 Settler’s Cafe in SMU

I LOVED JUNGLE SPEED. Never knew board games would be so fun. Hanging out there with drinks and food is expensive though. 

 

 

 Jump shot in front of Singapore Art Museum

Love love love the background. My new profile pic! And Hansel’s camera never ceases to amaze me. How it can capture colours so well is stunning.

 

 

 

My masterpiece

Made out of sliced dragonfruit skin. I was bored. And I felt more productive doing that than finishing my CSE readings. Grey and black speckled liquid courtesy of Stella.

Let’s just get it over and done with January 18, 2010

I thought that by being considerate, by being empathetic, by being selfless and trying to put yourself in others’ shoes, you’d be able to stop yourself from hurting anyone. And although I fall short of all of the above traits, I’ve come to learn that this isn’t true, because some things are just beyond your control, and even if you could have control over how you feel, some emotions just aren’t yours to decide whether or not you want them there. Some don’t even belong to you, and before you know it, it’s unpreventable and unstoppable. See, that’s how weak humans are.

 

I wish I could make it painless and less awkward for everyone, but this is the way it has to be. And to drag it any further would just be pulling us deeper and deeper into the never-ending hole, one which would never be easy for anyone to climb in, much less get out. But I guess you could say that we brought it on ourselves for thinking that nothing like that would ever happen, and continued to believe and hope and wish like how naive children do. When we finally realised the situation we were in, we were far too deep in for anyone to help us but ourselves. And how do you help yourself when you don’t even know where you are?

 

Now, I’ve got to slowly pry myself out of this mess that I’ve gotten myself in, and it isn’t pretty. It’s making me lose all the faith I had all along, and I had to face so many confrontations that instead of conquering my fear of them, I find myself trying to avoid them even more. I messed up. Pure and simple. I screwed my own mind over by thinking too much, by doubting every word because I was afraid of getting hurt, by trying to get opinions because I wasn’t self confident enough to trust myself.  And instead of walking off unscathed, I feel more deeply scarred by the thought that I may have hurt someone else due to my own selfishness and weakness and fear of being hurt by others. I wanted so badly to understand and to experience, that I recklessly did what I did to satisfy my own curiousity and never conciously considered how it could have given someone else false hopes, and how manipulative of their feelings I would appear to be.

 

Things get proven wrong, things get proven right. Ultimately, I learned that what makes us sure of how we feel and what makes something truly real and sincere is time. So now, I’ve got to learn to take things slowly, no matter what.

 

****************************

 

Just realised that I may have left my thumbdrive in school. It’s already been 2 days. Smart, Kerryn, very smart.

I’m doubting everything January 10, 2010

I never knew simple friendships could turn this complicated, and once it happens, nothing will ever be the same again. Looking back, I still can’t tell whether I could’ve prevented it or not, because I have no idea how it even started and I don’t see the end approaching anytime soon. I was either too blinded by the surroundings to notice or too easily misled by the prospect of something great that I rushed in without really considering the implications and before I knew it, I found myself in the middle, stumbling in the darkness, fumbling for anything at all that may point me the way out of this.

 

It’s hardest when you don’t know who AND what to trust. Sometimes I just wish that I could follow my heart and place my trust in it completely, but that’s impossible, because school has fine-tuned us in such a way that I’ve come to doubt what my heart is truly telling me, and I use my mind to prove it right or wrong. What I fear is that my mind may have already moved into where my heart was, so when I try to find what my heart is telling me, I find myself wanting to trust my heart but having to make do with my mind instead.

 

Yet trusting my mind is what I’m not very comfortable with either, so I seek other opinions, which complicate matters, since people have will look for hidden agendas and motives in innocent gestures. The layers and layers of different perspectives to this is so mind boggling that I can’t decide whcih is right, because I’m not someone who can tell lies from truths, sincere intentions from evil ones. The fact that I KNOW I’m gullible only serves to make me up my guard, making me question everything even more, and the more I question, the deeper I go, the less answers I find. I want to be able to trust, and I want to know that the trust that I have is pure and true and will never be betrayed, but being aware of such a desire instantly worries me, because I KNOW that I have never really seen the sinister world outside as it is, whcih causes me to doubt people, and doubting others is such a horrible feeling because I feel like I need to be cautious 24/7 or I’ll be caught unawares. How can someone do that? How do people live their lives constantly searching for hidden motives in everyone’s actions? You must feel that the world has degraded to such a level that no one can save it, and the more you do it, the more you don’t want to let it go, because you feel insecure. I think I finally understand what Anne Frank said.

 

This trust, or lack of it, is so baffling because I don’t know if it stems from the feeling you get when you really cannot trust someone, or if its just outside influence telling me to be careful. Time will tell, I hope?  

 

I treasure my friendships a lot, and I don’t want them to die. I want to be able to keep my friendships for as long as I live, impossible as it may seem, because people do lose contact very often. This is not something I want to let go of and forget easily, because it is just SO HARD to come by people who can really understand me on a deep level. And yes, while I can’t tell who is telling the truth or what the truth is, I am excellent at knowing if people understand and empathize with me or not, just by hearing them say, “I understand.” I can tell if people are just listening or patronizing me, or if they have been through exactly what I have. I have no idea how I developed that skill, or maybe its not really a skill if most people have it, but that’s something that I believe in a lot.

 

Reading all of that, I don’t understand why situations like these always have to happen to me. My problems aren’t stereotypical setbacks that people experience. They always have some tiny weird part to it that changes the way one can look at it dramatically, and no one can really give me good advice, because no one really comes across things like these. So now, I guess I’m on my own.

I lost my appetite January 5, 2010

I’VE LOST MY APPETITE AND I CAN’T GET IT BACK.

 

Someone please tell me why this is happening. I can’t be losing my appetite, it used to be the only thing that got me going on rough school days where I had nothing to look forward to. At this point in time, I feel hungry but I don’t feel like eating. Yes that is possible, it’s not the first time I’m hungry with no appetite, but it’s the first time I’ve had this feeling for such a long period of time. I think it’s been at least a week. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know why it’s like that. Oh I think I mentioned that earlier already(*looks at first sentence of paragraph*)

 

I’ve been forcing food into my body just for the sake of getting rid of the gurgling in my stomach, not even to satisfy my hunger. Yes, it’s different. I no longer enjoy stuffing food into my mouth, and that is SERIOUS. What is going on with me. I feel fainter and fainter as the days go by… I can’t carry on like this. At this rate I won’t have any energy to study or do research for school. OH school.

 

So maybe that’s why I don’t have my appetite huh. I’m so filled with dread and terror of the thought of school starting again that I immediately banish the thoughts from my mind. Self denial self denial self denial! I don’t want to have to sit in lectures where I know I won’t learn anything, and I don’t want to come home all tired and pooped and know that I still have to complete the math tutorial that I don’t even know how to start on simply because they teach so quickly in school.

 

And they call this the holidays.

 

What a lie.

Post Taiwan Entry (I) December 28, 2009

After 2 weeks, blogging is now a little foreign to me. I’ve spent most of December overseas(save for one week), in Germany first for 2 weeks, then in Taiwan for the past one week. Now that I’m back home with no other travels to look forward to except the 40 minute rides to school that will start soon enough, my life feels bland and meaningless, filled with pressure from research papers and courseworks and R papers that I have no motivation to even deal with. I’m feeling less deluded by escapism-ish thoughts that I had after I came back from Germany, because all the time in Taiwan, I kept preparing myself for reality, the reality that I managed to shut out of my life for the past one month. I don’t regret being overseas though. I can safely say that during the one month(or 3 weeks, rather) of travelling, I’ve learnt a lot more about the world, and also about myself, than school could ever teach me. And that, to me, is more important than schoolwork.  

 

Also, like all post-travel posts, I have a lot of reflections and thoughts that need to be penned down, and I only managed to do half of it on the plane from Taipei back to SIngapore, since I only managed to get some paper in the later part of teh trip, and that was the only time I ever had any real, uninterruped time alone. It was so frustrating to not be able to write down my thoughts, yet to keep thinking and reflecting, and constantly have new thoughts cram my mind till it almost reached bursting point. SO here’s what I wrote on the plane(I’ll be editting some because I’m not satisfied with how I described my feelings. I keep using the same words, and it’s boring me to death. I need to inject some fresh vocabulary in my entries, but once I start writing, the same old words come to my mind, even if the thoughts are different)

 

“So, I’m in the plane now. Doing something that one normally wouldn’t do on board. But like I’ve said before, if I didn’t write, I’d jsut die of mental suffocation, which is close to what I’m experencing now. Everytime I’m deprived of the tools to pen my thoughts, I realise hw dependent I am on it, or rather, how dependent my sanity is on writing, or journalling. To do so, I usually need a great deal of privacy, but I’ve reached such a point where I’m desperate for just any opportunity to write, whether in teh presence of others(like now) or not, as long as they don’t read what I’m writing. I’m grabbing the chance to write as much as I can before the flight gets bumpy, which means I’ll have to stop abruptly then…

 

I’ll be honest. These past 8 days in Taiwan haven’t been my best travel experience overseas, although it was overall, pretty okay. It isn’t the sort of travel experience that fills me with such a sense of wonder and awe, and leaves me begging for more(like in Egypt), but it was enjoyable, and our tour guide was excellent. During the 8 days, I did a lot of introspecting, because I didn’t get along with my family as well as I usually do. I’ll start with me always needing to know the reason behind things before I do them.

 

A lot of people just expect me to follow the instructions given blindly without question, but that is something I find extremely hard to do, because I need to know WHY you are asking me to do the things you think I should do. Although I am aware that it’s for the collective good(because we were in a large tour group), blind obedience and submission leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling, like something that needs to be completed but was left half finished. And that feeling creates in me a type of frustration, which builds ups till it can be held back no further, and explodes within me, resulting in sudden, irrational flare ups. Alternatively, this frustration can also slowly twist my insides tighter and tighter in a knot, which makes me feel indignant and moody for awhile.”

 

I’d like to give a comment before I continue copying the rest of what I wrote. To be fair, part of this frustration comes from my 2 week long exchange programme in Germany. During that time, I had to decide for myself what to do and what should be done, since I was pretty much on my own(you know what I mean). I’d gotten used to doing certain things by myself during travelling, because while the way I do things may not be conventional, it works best for me. So when others gave me advice I didn’t ask for, and tried to push their suggestions on me, I got annoyed and easily angered, like they didn’t trust me to do certain things on my own.

 

I’m not being stoic by not asking for any help, because if I need help, I will ask for it. But the thing is, when I don’t ask for help, it means I’m doing fine on my own. The irony is that they want me to be more independent but they don’t seem to want to let go of trying to take care of me. They don’t want me to make mistakes by doing things on my own, but the whole point of growing up and turning independent is that you learn from your own mistakes.

 

“This again leads me to another issue, the issue of me being(or seeming) stubborn. I know i have my moments, and I’m not saying I’m never stubborn, but I hate being accused of beign that way in situations where I know I’m not. Like I wrote earlier, I have a tendency to question things and intentions for meaning, and most times when I do, others take it as whinyness and a refusal to change when it’s just clarification and udnerstanding I’m seeking. It’s also not like I never try to explain myself. When I try to do so, they see it as me atempting to justify my own stubbornness, instead of me telling them how I truly feel. In a way, I don’t blame them, because reading the wall of text above, my thoughts are so complex and and conflicting for most people to understand, especially those who don’t bother digging deeper into things. That’s why I like to keep quiet sometimes, since my opinions aren’t exactly taken seriously by most.”

 

Comments on my own entry again. So let’s assume there are 2 sides to a particular issue. I take one side and others take the other side. They try to get me to switch to their perspective, because they think it’s right. So I ask them, why should I? Why is it right? What are your reasons for thinking that way? (Not always in these questions, but along that meaning) Then, without answering any of my questions, they accuse me of being stubborn and refusing to change to the right side when it’s the ‘correct’ thing to do.

 

So, havng experienced such situations before, I try to keep my cool and explain why is it I take the stand I do, and ask them what is it that makes them think theirs is the correct stand. Again, they flare up and tell me I’m being stubborn when I’m only trying to find out more about their opinions. And finding out more is important, since I need to weigh both sides and redecide which perspective I should take since I may not have thought of their opinons before. Yet what I am talking about now it that they don’t even want to give me reasons to change to their side, reasons I NEED first before I can change my opinon, and they still call me stubborn when they simply don’t understand me. See what I mean? It’s been this way since childhood.

 

————————————————————–

 

I have to stop here since it’s a really long post, and I WILL post photos soon, just that Kimberlys FB is acting up and not letting her upload photos, so I can’t compile them jsut yet. The photos from Taiwan are also with my aunt, since I was lazy to take most photos on my own. Plus, my on-the-plane written entry was quite long, and along with my own comments, it’ll need at least one more post before I can get everything out of my mind.

Liebe Grüße aus Deutschland! (III) … or not December 14, 2009

Ok so I’m back in Singapore. I thought only 2 posts for ‘Liebe Grüße aus Deutschland!’ would be lame, so I included III, even though I’m blogging from Singapore already. I decided to not continue blogging about my days in Germany since it got a bi boring for me to just record events, and I’ll be doing that anyway when I post the photos. Anyway I can’t seem to do any proper recollecting. I’m still feeling quite dazed after today’s long flight, like I never actually really went to Germany and flew back. If i didn’t have photos to prove it, I’d probably think it was just a dream. 2 weeks felt so long when it first started but now it seems like it passed in the blink of an eye.

 

(Miss the place, miss my friends there, miss the winter)

 

I remember furiously snapping photos the first few days, then I realised that no matter how many times I try, I can never truly capture the beauty of the place through the lens of a camera, because you only have one screen, while the beauty is all around. Not to mention that the beauty isn’t only visual. It also lies in the cold weather, winds and breezes, sounds, and the feeling that you can only get when you’re there. So I just decided to give up on taking too many photos and enjoy the scenery while I was still there.

 

 

Somehow, I feel more deeply connected to the place as compared to other countries I’ve been to. I think it’s because I actually know people there, and also because I stayed in one part of Germany for 2 weeks, whereas in tours you hop around a country so quickly that you can barely establish any kind of ’sense of belonging’, if you will. Melissa’s Germany bias is also getting to me, and I think I’m slowly being germanified, because I feel, in a way, inspired by German culture.

 

I actually didn’t think that Germans were that different from Singaporeans, if you eliminate all the physical elements like appearance, the way they decorate their houses and the way they dress. I braced myself for some huge cultural misunderstandings but I didn’t experience any, I don’t THINK. Whenever  didn’t udnerstand something that was said in German, they were nice enough to translate for me. Also, the parents also talk about pretty much the same things, just that they probably don’t compare schools and grades of their children as much.

 

Speaking of school, I love how they conduct their lessons. It’s all classroom style, so it’s way easier to learn. You get distracted a lot less, and you can learn more comfortably since there are no uniforms and you can wear that you want. Also, the students don’t really identify themselves by thir schools as much as Singaporeans do, whcih is something I actually like. It’s not that I have no pride in my school, but as I said before, school should be part of my life, NOT my life. That’s exactly how the german teenagers there live, or so I observed. They go to school, do their homework, study for tests, but not excessively like we do. It’s so much easier to call your friends, have a conversation or meet up with them over there than here, because over here, there’s always something from school that ruins our plans and takes over our lives.

 

(Irrelevant: I still believe that holidays should maintain their original purpose, not extra time for us to catch up on school work but to allow us to rejuvenate.)

 

I’ll be compiling photos and stuff so I probably won’t be blogging for a long time, unless I encounter something that inspires me to blog again.

Liebe Grüße aus Deutschland! (II) December 6, 2009

Hello.

That previous post was a bit rushed. I thought the documentation of the 3 days were done terribly, because I was rushing to get off the computer. I have more time now, so I’ll try to blog a little better.

 

Before I start telling you about my 3 days again, I want to add a bit to my thoughts that I wrote a little about in my last post.

 

When I couldn’t get used to camp in the past, and I complained to people about how horrible it was, I’m pretty sure thata lmost everyone had the impression that I am a spoilt child who is unable to adapt to unfamiliar surroundings and cannot survive on her own. I wouldn’t say its completely untrue, because right now, I don’t have to wash my own clothes, cook or clean. I know that, you don’t have to remind me.

 

But I still stand firm in my belief that I am able to adapt well to unfamiliar surroundings, as long as you give me the freedom and let me find a way to adapt on my own. The more you try to control me, to ‘help’ me, the less help it will do. In fact, I really don’t think that I have any trouble adapting to Germany at all, even though its so different from SIngapore. Isn’t that an INFP trait? especially the P part, it means we’re flexible, doesn’t it? And flexible people cannot stand rigidity or structure like CAMPS.

 

And I can prove that this is true. Since homesickness is attributed partly to difficulty in adapting to unfamiliar surroundings, and I felt far more homesick IN Singapore, for a 5 day camp, in a CONTROLLED environment rather than oceans and continents away in Germany, on a 2 week exchange programme, with enough flexibility an freedom given to me, then doesn’t it most certainly prove that I am adaptable when you let me be MYSELF?

 

I guess you can also argue that since I am so adaptable, as I so claim, then why can’t I adapt to camp? And my only answer to that, is that in camp, you strip me of my dignity and freedom, and those are 2 of the many things that make me who I am, so when you take away a part of me, how do you expect the full ‘me’ to be there to deal with adapting when you take some of ‘me’ away? Then I wouldn’t be complete, and I wouldn’t truly be myself, and thus you can’t say that it’s ME that cannot adapt, but rather, the incomplete part of ‘me’ that can’t, and that part is not representative of ‘me’, it’s not really ‘me’ at all. I’m not sure if you quite follow, but that’s the best way I can put it.

 

Day 4

I had a German lesson with my buddy in the morning, it was like German literature. They analysed a german play, and I didn’t understand most of it, although their classes are all classroom styled, the type I prefer to lectures, ugh.

 

We then walked to the train station and took a train to Hofguts Friedelhausen, a farm where disabled people work. They are very self sufficient, they grow their own crops for consumption and also for the animals to eat, set aside a small area for compost so that they can use it as natural fertilizer and hence, can keep everything organic.

 

After that, we went back to the school, had lunch, and I had Bio lesson with my buddy. They were doing Genetics, and I couldn’t remember anything from last year, so I just stoned. In my defence, I don’t remember going so deep into the topic either.

 

Day 5

Our day started off with lessons with our buddies again. My buddy had Geography, but they were going to the city to go interviews, so I went with my friends buddy instaed, also for Geography. It was so embarassing. The Geography teacher asked my friend and I if we could tell the class nything about the economy in Singapore, and teh structure of it, since they were studying that. Since neither of us take Economics, we didn’t have anything to offer. I felt SO lacking. I can tell you a bit about China, but SIngapore? Nuh uh.

 

After Geography, we went to Marburg. It’s a town about an hour or so’s drive away, and it’s an old town, so many of the houses were just as they were in the middle ages, just maybe strengthened and restored, with modern adverts and store signs. Very European, I felt. I also felt that they could have given us more free time in that city to buy some souvenirs, but there wasn’t any, so oh wells.

 

We had lunch at the University of Marburg, then drove back to Gießen to visit the MAthematikum, the Mathematics Museum. It was SO FUN. The activities weren’t exactly my cup of tea, but Kimberly and I took so many photos with the exhibits that we made it fun for ourselves. We also coined a new phrase, ” Spaß to the max”, which is German with Singlish (‘Spaß’ is ‘fun’ in German). See, Singaporeans can mix anything with anything.

 

Day 6

We visited the radio station in BAd Vilbel, which hosts 3 radio stations, Radio FFH, Planet more music Radio, and harmony.fm. We had a tour of the studios, with demonstrations of how DJs work the equipment. Our guide was really nice, so we all enjoyed it.

 

We drove to Frankfurt am Main where we had about 3 hours free time, FINALLY, so instead of having a nice lunch, we decided to just buy many different German snacks and food to share. It was hilarious, especially with the fries, because Kimberly asked for 3 sauces when you usually only ask for 1. We also walked around the Christmas market there, which is catered to tourists I think, but we found some great souvenirs, so the slightly higher prices didn’t really bother us.

 

Day 7

A bit slow and boring. I had lessons with my buddy, and then I went with her to where she teaches 5 students how to play the flute. They’re all so cute, 9-10 years old.

 

After that we went home, watched a DVD, and went shopping int he evening, which ended with us going to a bar(not a club, a bar) to drinks till late at night. I felt noobish inthe bar, since everyone else had cocktails and I ordered hot chocolate, and we also spilled the candle wax, but it was a good experience, and I DID get a new green top(probably the size that no one wants), so I have no complaints.

 

Day 8

We woke up late today, had lunch at home, then went to Schloss Braunfels, or Braunfels Castle. It was FREEZING, even though I had on thermal wear. I thought the castle was quite cool, since we actually got to go INSIDE, instead of just touring the outside, and we had a good tour around the many rooms.

 

 

Sighs, rushing again because I took so long. I think this post is better though, so till next time!

Liebe Grüße aus Deutschland! (I) December 1, 2009

Guess what. I hate OAC. I hate it more than ever. I hate it for having controlled my mind and manipulated my feelings and influenced my every decision for the past 2 years. OAc doesn’t make one more independent, nor does it make one more disciplined, and it certainly does NOT teach you to cope with homesickness.

For the record, I wasn’t homesick at all. I missed home a bit, but that was NOTHING compared to the utter hell I experienced in camp. I haven’t learnt to cope with homesickness better, but I’ve learnt to overcome my fear of overnight trips. I also realised that such trips are more effective in making one independent, since you actually have the freedom of choice, so you learn to decide for yourself what is better, what you should do. Screw camp, I still hate it as much, my hate for it has not been quelled by the overcoming of my fear, it has instead fuelled it.

I now understand why people think I’m making a big deal out of homesickness. On the first day, I missed home a bit, so I went to the toilet, cried for 5 minutes since crying is cathartic, and then went out to distract myself. It worked. In fact, the longing for home was so little I wouldn’t even call it homesickness. If that’s what others call homesickness, then of course, what I described about camp would definitely sound over rated. But I am telling the truth, and what I experienced in OAC was truly THAT BAD, it’s not that I can cope with it so much better.

I could go on and on but this is my buddy’s computer and it’s a bit mean to hog it so, so I’ll begin writing about my first 3 days here. I’ll blog more about my thoughts here and document what I do, and when I’m back I’ll post photos.

Intro

The exchange programme is with a school in Gießen, which is a town near Frankfurt. My buddy lives in a village about 7km away from Gießen, called Wißmar.

Day 1

The flight was pure torture. The food was OK, service pretty good. But the entire flight lasted 13 hours, and in the economy class, it is SO cramped, even for ME. My legs ACHED the entire flight, because I couldn’t rest it properly since there wasn’t a foot rest and my foot is a bit too short to rest on the floor comfortablly. Height discrimination!!!

When we finally reached Frankfurt airport, the customs guy(the person who stamps your passport) asked SO MANY questions. Seriously. Are you travelling with her(points to my friend)? How many of you are there? It awas asked as if I was suspected of something and my guai-little-girl smile didn’t work either, so I just gave the answers and I was let off. Everyone experienced the same.

On the first day, I didn’t really do much. We went to Macs for breakfast, then back to her home, and in the evening, we visited her best friend and watched DVDs. Was still trying to get used to all the green meadows, forests, big houses and farms. I knew from previous travel experience that the first day always lasts the longest so I was just looking forward to the end of it.

Day 2

Day 2 was fun! We woke up late, had breakfast, and here I must say they have great cheese and Leberwurst(Liver sausage) in Germany. For lunch, we had SChnityel. A sort of deep fried pork dish. It was served with potatoes and salad. My goodness, they really know how to make a salad here in Germany. The dressing was nothing I’ve ever had in Singapore, it was SO GOOD. I have pictures.

After lunch, we walked to the Weihnachtsmarkt(Christmas Market) in the neighbouring city, Krofdorf, and then drove back(My buddy can drive, she’s 18). The Weihnachtsmarkt was a lot smaller than the one I experienced ages ago, but the festive mood was still there. Must remember to buy Christmas cookies.

We walked there wiht a close family friend of theirs who live nearby, and so they invited us for a dinner of waffles. They eat waffles with chocolate, blueberry, coffee sauce, cream, homemade cherry jam/sauce. It was great. The people were so nice and when I didn’t understand anything(which was very often), they translated it for me. Also, the daughter of that family has a pig as a pet, called Amy Schweinhouse. ’schwein’ in german means ‘pig’. How cute is that? I went to see the pig, and it was quite huge, with a pink snout and could even do tricks like sitting down and turning around. IT was SO cute. It even sleeps in their daughters room!

Day 3

Today we began the city tour of Giesßen. It would have been great, except our tour guide keep going onand on and on and once he was done, he’d just walk off to the next destination and he NEVER gave us time for photos. How mean can you get? When we hung back to snap photos we got rushed by our teachers.

(Bought a multi coloured polka dotted hairband during shopping. I LOVE IT. It looks childish and garish and girly but I think it’s very typical of me, so.)

We had lunch at a restaurant ‘Alt Gießen’, which was a buffet. I went crazy. I LOVE BUFFETS. The pasta was amazing, cooked in cheese and cream and spinach. The chocolate mousse was TO DIE FOR. The only thing I didn’t like was the pea soup.

After lunch we went to Liebig Museum, the original laboratory of a famous Chemist, Liebig. We watched demonstrations of some chemical experiemnts, none of which I understood, but they weren’t boring. They involved reactions that  glowed with a brilliant light, created metre-high flames and concoctions of chemicals of all the colours of the rainbow. I would have taken more photos but my camera died. Typical. I’ll get them from my friend.

So that’s my first 3 days. I enjoyed it. I don’t have that travel mood in me still, but the situation here’s different anyway. I don’t feel as detatched from my real life as much as I do when I usually go on vacation. Maybe it’s because I’m with my classmates so I’m being constantly reminded of my real life back in Singapore. I’l continue to reflect because this is such a great place to do so, but I should sotp now because I’ve been on too long already.

Bis später!

Mixed Feelings November 27, 2009

So, this is it.

 

Tonight, I fly to Germany, and everything that I’m about to experience there, I will experience on my own. (Well, with my friends too, but you get what I mean)

 

It’s not that I don’t want to go there. But my excitement and anticipation for this trip is also mixed with feelings of fear and a bit of anxiety. Yes I still fear homesickness, I still fear that I can’t cope with it. Above all, I fear that I may have overestimated my own abilities to deal with it properly, even at this age.

 

I know, I know. “Still pulling this i-hate-camp lark again?”, you ask me. Maybe yes, maybe no. Some elements of it feel the same, the worry of it and the trying to pre empt it but failure to properly do so because of paranoia. But the intesity of worry is different this time. It’s not taking over my mind as much as it used to, I manage to push the thought away more successfully than I did in the past. And this time, to counter the paranoia, I teach myself to be realistic and not think of extremes, which is what most people would call optimism. It’s not that I wasn’t optimistic last time, but optimism for me used to mean anticipating things that were too good to be true, in other words, thinking to the other extreme. And of course, what do you get when you keep your hopes too high? You’re met with crushing disappointment after.

 

I cannot help comparing this trip to previous experiences that I shall not name, but you guys probably know what anyway. I know most people liked it, but truth was, it was utter hell for me. Try crying through the first day because you’re homesick and yet cannot do anything to distract yourself from the feeling. Homesickness worsens when you’re bored. And I WAS bored. We had activities, but not the type that would distract me. As I’ve mentioned before, I need things to be mentally stimulating, not physically strenuous. Everything there was just boring and meaningless for me and I had no desire to remain in that place either. In fact, I would say that stoning and daydreaming definitely makes the time pass faster than any of those stupid cheering “team bonding” activities they made us participate in.

 

I don’t actually know how to justify myself further, that that experience was so traumatising it’s still affecting my decisions now, because so much of it was due to feelings evoked by the experience that I couldn’t control or cope with. And since feelings are so irrational, whatever I say now will not make any sense to you anyway. Whatever became of coming out of a difficult situation a stronger person? I felt more of a coward and a weakling, and all the courage I had before immediately ceased to exist, or so I thought. That’s why I’m giving it one last final shot. I’m putting one of my greatest fears with something I truly love to see if it turns out any better. And because I’m such a sucker, I’m still holding on to every last strand of hope that I have. 

 

I’ve been doing everything I could to prepare myself for homesickness. And along the way, I’ve found out that people get homesick yes, but they still enjoy what they do, so maybe it really REALLY depends on the context and circumstance, and also the people you’re with. I certainly hope it’s true.

 

Thanks Xinlin:

 

 

 

“The truth is that this trip’s really going to be loads different from oac!”

                    — Xinlin (During an MSN conversation)

 

The woes of starting IS November 22, 2009

Oh, IS.

How could I have ever thought that you’d be more fun than PW? You cheated my feelings when you gave me the assumption than we could do anything under the sun about china, then proceeded to unravel everything I ever did by telling me you had to be in the syllabus. The way IS, Independent Study, is phrased so nicely, put together to make it sound like you can write about your ideas and self-discovered and self-thought-of concepts and present it as YOUR work, yet you still depend so much on the work of others. Sighs, independent study, I guess you’re not so independent after all.

 

Syllabus. The stupid syllabus.

How I hate your contraints. Your trapping of my free imagination and wild ideas. The way you constantly have to put me down every time I think of something new that is so mind blowing even I’m bowled over. The way I forget you exist, and continue to enthusiastically research on something I’m so interested in, only to be faced with a cold slap in the face that because you don’t approve of it, I can’t do it. Why do you need to trap me so? I never asked for compelte freedom, I learnt what you asked me to. I studied the 4 themes, didn’t I? I thought the point of an Independent Study was to choose something compeltely diffferent that we never learnt about before. But I guess people value details more than broad-based learning, so too bad for me.

 

Research.

It’s no secret. I loathe you, and I bet you loathe me too. Is that why you never let me find you, not even a part of you? And yet when others ask to see you, you willingly let them in your door, maybe even invite them in for a chat and a cup of tea. I don’t understand why others marvel at the ease of finding you n the internet. Why do you hide from me so? Why do you give me the many different faces of yourself that I don’t want to see? You know what part of you I want, you just refuse to show it to me. Why do you keep referring me to buy products and visit China when all I want is some good solid information? I had to go to the library to find you, and even then, you resisted being found. You tucked yourself away in the many different corners of the bookshelves on different floors and had such weird book titles that even searching on the library search computer made it hard to pinpoint your exact location. There should be a PI company just to look for you, oh dear research. Many intellectuals would pay millions to find you. Not even all of you, just a teeny tiny bit and they’d be satisfied.

 

 

Well I guess it’s back to finding an IS topic since ‘Women Trafficking and Prostitution in China’ isn’t viable.

Not to mention I’ve still got Kursarbeit(Coursework) for German, and I’m doing the East German church and how it helped to bring donw the Berlin Wall. At least that one got accepted.

 

Alles Gute, Kerryn!

Digging deeper but not finding anything November 17, 2009

|Music| ‘New York’ - Paloma Faith

I hate not knowing why I feel a certain way, because I’m usually able to identify why I’m feeling like this and why. Even if I can’t pinpoint it exactly, I have a vague idea as to what caused a certain feeling or mood. Right now, I don’t even know where to start searching. I’m stuck in an odd position now where when I’m alone, I crave company and comfort. But when in the company of others, I decide that I want solitude instead. So I can’t really do much of anything to ease that weird, uncomfortable feeling but to alternate between being with people and spending time alone, both not really giving me the peace of mind that I want.

 

Another way I tried to tackle that feeling was to block it out, but it’s so hard! As I was growing up, I somehow trained myself to think and reflect and ponder and daydream any time I can, so my mind is constantly at work. If I’m not thinking about anything, there’s always a song running through my mind. Other than that, it’s torturous not being able to have anything in my mind, because I have to conciously push it away every second or so, telling myself, “NO, don’t think about it. GO away.” That’s the internal struggle I often experience, when I get so tired I don’t want to think, but my mind just doesn’t seem to want to stop. Like an INFP said in an mbti personality disussion forum, I rarely experience mental silence.

 

Yet what I find frustrating is not so much the feeling, but that I can’t seem to figure out what’s causing it. It seems that everytime I introspect I find out yet something else about myself that I knew about before, adding on to the many layers that I HOPE I’ve already uncovered. It’s like a never ending cycle, because once I discover something, it seems to spark off questions that makes me discover yet something else, maybe even conflicting with that I thought was true before.

 

And this is why I hate it when people act like they know me better than I do myself. When they do, most usually take me at face value, they don’t dig deeper, they think that everything I do has a rational or practical reason behind it, or they assume that certain traits can be applied to all the humans in the world. Then they proceed to tell me stuff aobut myself that they think I dont know, but in fact, that I’ve already thought about many times before. If I’m not even revealing my true self to them, what right do they have to tell me who I am when they’re merely scraping the surface? I don’t even know that much about myself, and I already spend so much time pondering about my own character and personality. So how can they act like they know me inside out, when even I don’t? And I doubt anyone else spends more time thinking about my actions, thoughts and character than myself.

 

Another thing I cannot tolerate is when people, who don’t know me all that well(and most of them are males), actually gain some insight into my plans and ideals, those of which I guard fiercely, and then remind me how unrealistic, ludicrous, impossible etc my opinions and dreams are. They speak as if I have not considered the reason or logical side of things, and then continue to ’share’ their knowledge about actual circumstances that they feel I have no knowledge about, and hence, have made the ‘mistake’ of having such airy-fairy goals. Please, back off. Just because my goals and dreams are idealistic doesn’t mean that I’ve never considered what they suggested, which is the mroe realistic or pragmatic viewpoint. For the record, I have, so don’t go thinking that I’m ignorant just because I’m lost in my own world half the time. I just prefer my opinions(which I constantly refine and rethink), whcih is why they’re MY opinions in the first place. It’s not that I feel they’re more possible or probable, but it’s just the perspective of things that I feel most in harmony with.

 

I’m not saying I hate all advice. Most of the time, I know people are trying to help me and shed light on things I don’t know. ANd again, I’m not saying that I already know everything that everyone has advised me on. But there’s a difference between wanting to help me, and just trying to force your opinions on me. The first I welcome with gratitude, the second is an insult to my intelligence and ideals.

 

Still too unrealistic, you say? Well, guess what, I have met people, ADULTS, who share my views, who actually bother considering my opinions seriously and take time to listen to me, and who actually accept my idealism. And these are people who are well liked, deeply respected and considered successful in our results driven society. I have been motivated to keep many of my views because of them, because they have proven that even those who are idealistic have a place in this world. I don’t want to conform senselessly, because I want everything I do to be meaningful.

 

And this leads me to think about changing or adapting yourself so that you can succeed in current circumstances. To me, there’s a difference between changing yourself, and just adjusting. The first is more permenant, the second is temporary. Many people seem to think that it’s necessary to change yourself to what others think you should be, but for me, mere adjusting is fine. Why can’t I just adjust myself when the circumstances require me to do so, and revert back to my old self when there’s no need to conform? It’s tough being someone you’re not, and most times you don’t even know which is right. Is conforming right? Or are you conforming because you truly believe that the action you’re conforming to is right? But in that case, that isn’t just conforming, that’s changing for the better, isn’t it?

 

A lot of times when people tell me I’m wrong, and I don’t seem to want to change, it’s not because I don’t want to admit my mistakes. I reflect over my own actions and consider the character trait that people want me to change, and I think about what they feel is right for me, and most times I don’t see any meaning behind it. They just want me to conform. You can’t tell me to do something just because it’s right. You have to tell me WHY it’s right, and give me time to think about whether your version of ‘right’ is truly justified and if it FEELS ‘right’ to me.

 

This has been with me throughout my childhood, and I think it was the reason why people said I was stubborn. But whenever I questioned their version of ‘right’, and asked for explanation as to why it was right, they merely told me to stop questioning and accept things as they are. And that is just something that I cannot do, because if we stop looking for the meaning behind things, our system of values are going to become more and more corrupted as people conform senselessly and fall deeper into blind submission to others, believing them almost immediately when they sound intelligent, not really considering what they have said, just taking things at the superficial level.

 

Gahh, what a long post. I feel a little more liberated though, now that I’ve got my thoughts out. Back to researching for my CSE IS.

 

***** I realised that I’m a true romantic at heart(and I mean ‘romanticism’ romantic). When we were doing this poem in german class, and apparently it’s not very romantic because the poet used unemotive words and tangible things to describe intangible feelings, but somehow everything in the poem seemed romantic to me!!! The fact that he doesn’t identify the feeling directly makes it mysterious and leaves room for imagination, so it can be anything you want it to be, any feeling you want to associate the unromantic objects with. Although, I have to say, flowers are not romantic, pelase. They’re beautiful, but they’re too overused and too cliched.

Photolog 2009 (IV) November 13, 2009

|Music| ‘Time is all around’ – Regina Spektor

 

I seem to have an odd fetish for taking photos of food, and I didn’t realise how many of such photos I had taken until I uploaded all of them onto my computer and compiled them in a folder. So while this is still a photolog, it will consist mostly of food, since that’s what I like to take photos of.

 

 

Strawberry and Mango Snow Ice

HM and I shared this dessert at a small stall near my school. The shaved ice is actually frozen milk, and is cold and sweet, the sort of sweetness that you don’t get tired of easily. The mangos and strawberries paled in comparison to the snow ice is was put together with. And this was weird, sicne the condiments or toppings are usually what one would rather eat than the ice itself.

 

 

HM’s LG Ice Cream Phone

This is what INFPs resort to to instill some self discipline. Doesn’t work.

 

 

Phad Thai from Thai Express

It didn’t come like this. All the vegetables were mixed with the noodles, and because I don’t like it when my food is all mixed together, especially when there’s as many vegetables as the noodles, I pluck them out one by one and separate them. I’m not this anal about organising anything else though. The chili was fab, and I LOVED the phad thai noodles.

 

 

 

Ayam Penyet

Meluki brought me to this Indonesian restaurant in Lucky Plaza during the period of the exchagne programme. Ayam Penyet is, apparently, squashed chicken or something like that. It came deep fried, with other deep fried things like tofu and some sort of fermented beans, along with kangkong. Oh, and it was topped with crunchy stuff that is deep fried batter, I think. Don’t underestimate the power of the chili.

 

 

Wang’s Cafe

On this day, we were supposed to get a flu vaccination at TTS Hospital, and we even CALLED them beforehand to ask them if they were open. Guess what, when we went ALL THJE WAY THERE, we were greeted with a closed vaccination clinic and 2 staff who apologetically told us that all the clinic staff had gone for a retreat that day. Like, why couldn’t they tell us WHEN WE CALLED THEM TO CHECK IF THEY WOULD BE OPEN?!?!

( I ended up going there on a Monday that was pouring with rain, getting off at the wrong entrance of the hospital, walking 5 minutes in the rain and wind in a futile search for the other entrance, only to enter the hospital again and ask for directions after walking through wards and looking at signssaying scary things like ‘Neurology’ and ‘Mortuary’. )

So, we went to Wang’s Cafe for breakfast.

 

         

 

Kaya Toast with Coffee

 How Singaporean is that?! Yes, I know I’m missing th half boiled eggs. We ordered that too, but by the tim I took a photo my brother had already attacked the eggs with dark sauce and pepper and was stirring it vigorously, so the photo looked disgusting.

 

Mee Rebus

Yummy. Haven’t had that in ages.

 

 

Cajun Chicken

From the Western Food Stall at the J8 Food Court. The sauce was good, it was tangy and slightly spicy. I liked it with the chicken and the rice. What sucked though, was that they BURNT MY CHICKEN. Can you see the black marks on the exposed chicken? I spent time scraping it out, although the inside was still good.

 

 

    

Kimberly’s attempt to create that ‘Illuminati’ effect on my name

It’s definitely more successful than my own attempt ages ago. She says the trick is to separate all the strokes within the letters.

Anne Frank Quotes Compilation November 10, 2009

I’ve been wanting to get this post down for ages, but I was bogged down with things like PW and school and the excitement of actually having PHOTOS to post with that I just left it hanging. Now that I’ve got some time, I can truly start on my compilation of Anne Frank quotes that I liked. These are sentences or prargraphs that I picked out from her diary MYSELF, things she said or expressed in such a manner that struck me deeply, things that I felt I could relate to, or things that were insightful.

 

In many ways, while reading Anne’s diary, I also felt like I was reading my own thoughts, only better articulated. The beginning was just like any other diary, filled with accounts of school life, friends and family. After she went into hiding and grew older, her entries consisted not only of the fear of being discovered and life in hiding, but also of her deep, complex thoughts that I not only understand, but also have experienced(most of them). I never knew such feelings were universal, but perhaps humans from different cultures are more alike than we think.

 

I tried to make the quotes as short as possible, but sometimes I had to put the whole, few paragraphs down. If not, you will never be able to understand the complexity of her thoughts and the beauty of her language, and will never be able to grasp the essence of her character and personality. The last thing I want is for someone to read these and misunderstand her. Because while I don’t relate to ALL of her thoughts and ideals, I can pre empt that to many who have not experienced feelings similar to what she has described, it will seem absurd and irrational.

 

(I’ve colour coded the quotes, double checked, and there’s no typo there. SOme prargraphs are only one line, some sentences I took from the last line of the paragraph and went on to the next one.)

  

——————————————————————————————————–

 

Now that I’m rereading my diary after a year and a half, I’m surprised at my childish innocence. Deep down I know I could never be that innocent again, however much I’d like to be.

 

We’re so fortunate here, away from the turmoil. We wouldn’t have to give a moment’s thought to all this suffering if it weren’t for the fact that we’re so worried about those we hold dear, whom we can no longer help. I feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed, while somewhere out there my dearest friends are dropping from exhaustion or being knocked to the ground.

I get frightened myself when I think of clsoe frinds who are now at the mercy of the cruellest monsters ever to stalk the earth.

And because they’re all Jews.

 

In bed at night, as I ponder my many sins and exaggerated shortcomings, I get so confused by the sheer amount of things I have to consider that I either laugh or cry, depending on my mood. Then I fall asleep with the strange feeling of wanting to be different from what I am or being different from what I want to be, or perhaps of behaving differently from what I am or want to be.

 

Everyone thinks I’m showing off when I talk, ridiculous when I’m silent, insolent when I answer, cunning when I have a good idea, lazy when I’m tired, selfish when I eat one bite more than I should, cowardly, calculating etc., etc. All day long I hear nothing but what an exasperating child I am, and although I laugh it off and pretend not to mind, I do mind.

 

I’m stuck with the character I was born with, yet I’m sure I’m not a bad person. I do my best to please everyone, more than they’d ever suspect in a million years. When I’m upstairs, I try to laugh it off because I don’t want them to see my troubles.

 

Everyone expects me to apologize, but this is not something I can apologize for, because I told the truth, and sooner or later Mother was bound to find out anyway.

 

I don’t think my opinions are stupid but other people do, so it’s better to keep them to myself.

 

Who else but me can I turn to for comfort? I’m frequently in need of consolation, I often feel weak, and more often than not, I fail to meet expectations. I know this, and every day I resolve to do better.

 

I’m no longer the baby and spoiled little darling whose every deed can be laughed at. I have my own ideas, plans and ideals, but am unable to articulate them yet.

 

Can you tell me why people go to such lengths to hide their real selves? Or why I always behave differently when I’m in the company of others? Why do people have so little trust in one another? I know there must be a reason, but sometimes I think it’s horrible that you can’t ever confide in anyone, not even those closest to you.

 

We aren’t allowed to have an opinion! My, my, aren’t they progressive! Not have an opinion! People can tell you to shut up, but they can’t keep you from having an opinion. You can’t forbid someone to have an opinion, no matter how young they are!

 

At such moments, I don’t think about all the misery, but about all the beauty that still remans. This is where Mother and I differ greatly. Her advice in the fate of melancholy is: ‘Think about all the suffering int he world and be thankful you’re not part of it.’ My advice is: ‘Go outside, to the country, enjoy the sun and all nature has to offer. Go outside and try to recapture the happiness within yourself; think of all the beauty in yourself and everything around you and be happy’.

I don’t think Mother’s advice can be right, because what are you supposed to do if you become part of the suffering? You’d be completely lost. On the contrary, beauty remains, even in misfortune. If you look for it, you discover more and more happiness and regain your balance. A person who’s happy will make others happy; a person who has couragte and faith will never die in misery!

 

Ordinary people, ordinary girls, teenagers like myself, would think all this self-pity is a little crazy. But that’s just it. I pour my heart out to you, and the rest of the time I’m as impudent, cheerful, self-confident as possible to avoid questions and from getting on my own nerves.

 

It’s because we’re always together. I don’t want the person I confide in to be around me all the time.

 

Above all, I have to maintain my air of confidence. No one must know that my heart and mind are constantly at war with each other. Up till now reason has always won the battle, but will my emotions get the upper hand? Sometimes I fear they will, but more often than not I actually hope they do!

 

The nicest part is able to write down all my thoughts and feelings; otherwise, I’d absolutely suffocate.

 

I’m my best and harshest critic. I know what’s good and what isn’t. Unless you write yourself, you can’t know how wonderful it is; I always used to bemoan the fact that I couldn’t draw, but now I’m overjoyed with the fact that I can write. And if I don’t have the talent to write books or newspaper articles, I can always write for myself. 

I don’t want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I’ve never met. I want to go on living, even after my death! 

When I write I can shake off all my cares. My sorrow disappears, my spirits are revived! But, and that’s a big question, will I ver be able to write something great, will I ever become a journalist or a write?

I hope so, oh, I hope so very much, because writing allows me to record everything, all my thoughts, ideals and fantasies.

 

If God lets me live, I’ll achieve more than Mother ever did, I’ll make my voice haerd, I’ll go out into the world and work for mankind!

I now know that courage and happiness are needed first!

 

 As you can no doubt imagine, we often say in despair, ‘What’s the point of the war? Why, oh, why can’t people live together peacefully? Why all this destruction?’

The question is understandable, but so far no one has come up with a satisfactory answer. Why is England manufacturing bigger and better aeroplanes and bombs and at the same time churning out new houses for reconstruction? Why are millions spent on the war each day, while not a penny is availabe for medical science, artists or the poor? Why do people have to starve when mountains of food are rotting away in other parts of the world? Oh, why are peple so crazy?

I don’t believe the war is simply the work of politicians and capitalists. Oh no, the common man is every bit as guilty; otherwise, people and nations would have rebelled long ago! Thre’s a destructive urge in people, the urge to rage, murder and kill. And until all of humanity, without exception, undergoes a metamorphosis, wars will continue to be waged, and everything that has been carefully built up, cultivated and grown will be cut down and destroyed, only to start all over again!

 

To be honest, I can’t understand how the Dutch, a nation of good, honest and jupright people, can sit in judgement on us the way they do. On us –  the most oppressed, unfortunate and pitiable people in all the world.

 

Sometimes I’m so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I long for a word of comort to help me dig myself out again. If only I had someone who took my feelings seriously. Alas, I haven’;t yet found that person, so the search must go on.

 

It’s not just my imagination — looking at the sky, the clouds, the moon and the stars really does make me feel calm and hopeful. It’s so much better medicine than valerian or bromide. Nature makes me feel humble  and ready to face every blow with courage!

 

In the book Men against Death I was greatly struck by the fact that in childbirth alone, women commonly suffer more pain, illness and misery than any war hero ever does. What’s her reward for enduring all that pain? She gets pushed aside when she’s disfigured by birth, her children soon leave, her beauty is gone. Women, who struggle and suffer pain to ensure the continuation of the human race, make much tougher and more courageus soldiers than all those big-mouthed freedom-fighting heroes put together!

I don’t mean to imply that women should stop having children; on the contrary, nature intended them to, and that’s the way it should be. What I condemn are our system of values and the men who don’t acknowledge how great, difficult, but ultimately beautiful women’s share in society is.

 

I have one outstanding character trait that must be obvious to anyone who’s known me for any length of time: I have a great deal of self-knowledge. In everything I do, I can watch myself as if I were a stranger. I can stand across from the everyday Anne and, without being biased or makign excuses, watch what she’s dong, both and good and the bad. This self-awareness never leaves me, and every time I open my mouth, I thnk, ‘You should have said that differntly’ or ‘That’s fine the way it is.’ I condemn myself in so many ways that I’m beginning to realise the truth of Father’s adage: ‘Every child has to raise itself.’ Parents can only advise their children or point them in the right direction. Ultimatly, people shape their own characteristics.

 

I didn’t want to hear about ‘typical adolescent problems’, or ‘other girls’, or ‘you’ll grow out of it’. I didn’t want to be treated the same as all-the-other-girls, but as Anne-in-her-own-right, and Pim didn’t understand that.

 

I’ve let myself be guided entirely by my feelings. It was egoistical, but I’ve done what was best for my own peace of mind. I would lose that, plus the self-confidence I’ve worked so hard to achieve, if I were to be subjected to criticism halways through the job.

 

‘Deep down, the young are lonlier than the old.’ I read this in a book somewhere and it’s stuck in my mind. As far as I can tell, it’s true.

So if you’re wondering whether it’s harder for the adults here than for the children, the answer is no, it’s certainly not. Older people have an opinion about everything and are sure of themselves and their actions. It’s twice as hard for us young people to hold on to our opinions at a time when ideals are being shattered and destroyed, when the worst side of human nature predominates, when everyone has come to doubt truth, justice and God.

 

Anyone who claims that the old people have a more difficult time in the Annexe doesn’t realize that the problems have a far greater impact on us. We’re much too young to deal with these problems, but they keep thrusting themselves on us until, finally, we’re forced to think up a solution, though most of the time our solutions crumble when faced with the facts. It’s difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherised hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem to absurd and impractical, yet I cling to them because I believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.

It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly tansformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the sufering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everyuthing will change for the better, that this cruelty will too end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I’ll be able to realize them!

 

As I’ve told you many times, I’m split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life, and above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with fliratations, a kiss, an embrace, a saucy joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other side, which is much purer, deeper and finer.

 

My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne – to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why.

I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, thnk I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriuosly, but only the ‘lighthearted’ Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the ‘deeper’ Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeard.

 

A voice within me is sobbing, ‘You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.’ Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be ill, stuff me with aspirins and sedatrives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movement and berate me for beign in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up any more, because when everybody starst hovering over it, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if… if only there were no other people in the world.

 

 ——————————————————————————————————–

** She sounds like an NF. But maybe that’s jsut me.

 

**** She also wrote a lot more about her family members, life in hiding and the fear of being discovered than her personal reflections and views. However, I’ve quoted more of her writing about her opinions and character rather than her writing on the happenings in the annexe, since I am focusing on Anne as a person who is extremely brilliant in thought and also with language. I am not saying that the suffering she experienced was over rated, but that is just not my focus, because what I admire about her is more of her having hope and ideals and being able to articulate her feelings so clearly, rather than her surviving in hiding as  Jew in those times. Hope you get what I mean.

 

Dry Handmade Noodles November 8, 2009

Bet you’ve never heard of that!!!

(Ok, not really. You’ve probably heard of it before but never tried it.)

 

I have been on a food-photo rampage these few days, taking photos of whatever I feel looks good. In my case, it’s usually food. A few days ago during one of our PW OP meetings, we had lunch at the food court in Roxy Square, which is near school. Since the handamde noodle stall is reknowned, and we’d all tried the handmade noodle in SOUP before, we decided to get the dry version this time.

 

[ Don't judge me when i describe food and so-called, 'critique' it. I do it because I actually enjoying writing about it, not because I think that I am competent enough to really critique food. What I write is solely what is true FOR ME, how I felt and thought about it. Besides, I've got the ability to enjoy food that sucks, unless it's really Really REALLY bad, so whatever I write may not be that accurate anyways. Now that we've got the disclaimer aside, let's begin. ]

 

Dry U-mian

It is, basically, your normal noodles in thick, brown-black sauce with about 4 dumplings buried inside and the normal condiments that you usually get with handmade noodles.

The sauce has got a taste that’s hard for me to describe. It’s simple yet complex, like there are so many different flavours in it but all have fused to become one entity. And it compliments the slight sourness of handmade noodles so well! Another thing about it, is that while most starchy sauces tend to lose their thickness and stickiness really quickly after you’ve started eating, this one’s remained. Also, it didn’t splatter on my school blouse, so that’s something else that I liked.

I don’t think that I’ve to tell you if it’s good or bad. I was expecting it to be good, it WAS good, and that was no surprise since we’re eating from a reknowned stall here. My classmate told me it was a franchise.

 

 

Dumplings

This is the pan-fried version that we ordered, although it looks deep fried to me. The skin is crispier and harder, and after you bite into it, you can actually see the different flaky layers within it. The filling tastes different from the dumplings that I normally have too, though in what way I don’t know. One GREAT thing, is that it’s a little larger than your normal Chinese potstickers, but I guess that’s because it’s also quite expensive compared to the rest of the food they sell. Seriously, I think it’s more worth it to buy the noodles with the dumplings inside.

 

 

On the day after our OP ended, we went for lunch at Pastamania and after I finished my pasta, I did this with the leftover sauce.

 

Is that pretty or what! Oh yes, I love playing with food too.

(I especially love the sound of ebikkos bursting together when you crush them, but that’s another story, and only Rae and Pris will get what I mean )