Tell me who i am now.

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion 43% Stability 73% Orderliness 30% Empathy 36% Interdependence 76% Intellectual 70% Mystical 43% Artistic 90% Religious 30% Hedonism 43% Materialism 56% Narcissism 63% Adventurousness 70% Work ethic 43% Self absorbed 43% Conflict seeking 36% Need to dominate 23% Romantic 70% Avoidant 30% Anti-authority 63% Wealth 63% Dependency 63% Change averse 56% Cautiousness 30% Individuality 70% Sexuality 56% Peter pan complex 76% Physical security 83% Food indulgent 36% Histrionic 23% Paranoia 36% Vanity 63% Hypersensitivity 30% Female cliche 36%

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Stability results were high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic..
Orderliness results were low which suggests you are overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.
Extraversion results were moderately low which suggests you are reclusive, quiet, unassertive, and secretive. trait snapshot:
messy, tough, disorganized, fearless, not rule conscious, likes the unknown, rarely worries, rash, attracted to the counter culture, rarely irritated, positive, resilient, abstract, not a perfectionist, risk taker, strange, weird, self reliant, leisurely, dangerous (!!!) , anti-authority, trusting, optimistic, positive, thrill seeker, likes bizarre things, sarcastic

It would seem that i would spend the rest of my days as a low profile opposition member, impoverished, but happy none-the-less. Whee. *oozing positivity* But wait! There's a logical fallacy here! If i am counter-culture, or so the test says, then I probably wouldn't have jumped on the bandwagon and done this test! And so the test is faulty, or i am a temperamental iconoclast. Ah, well, how bizarre. Pardon my incoherence. This is thrilling, what an adventure! *note the sarcasm*

oh, and i think overly flexible only applies to me in the physical sense. haha.

Going back

For almost two decades he had done this-

A lonesome figure etched in the jagged and rough-hewn landscape. Bold brushstrokes dominate this rural canvas, reflective of the triumph of pure primal instinct over blase human civilities. O, but it is a godforsaken place.

The wind tore at his black tresses with a vengeance equaled only by the dark of his eyes, enwrapped in the torture of his own accursed memories. He could smell it as it ripped past him, fetid with the smell of death and whatever evil conjured from being in the neighbourhood of the devil – himself.

Light jostled to enter windows long accustomed to shadow, and gradually, like a fever slow to subside, the sole residence of all his childhood joys became clear. He could see the moors, clouded, as usual, in their comforting greyness, the mere expanse of which grieved him further to think about what could have been a worthy embellishment.

Cathy.

______________________________________________________________________
Two lessons learnt from this exercise. One, emily bronte is brilliant. Two, I would do better to just stop romanticizing heathcliffe and to divert my energies towards finishing the book instead. I have a feeling Burge is going to scream 'blasphemy!' any moment from now. But Wuthering Heights is getting more and more diabolical and depressing by the minute, which probably explains my sudden interest in the text. Oh well. Somehow Heathcliffe moves me more than Edgar, the reason to which is probably similar to the reason behind my sympathising more with Hareton than Linton. I hope this is not indicative of an innate villainy.

substitution effect.

Still suffering from excessive languor, which explains this sad entry. And so i have offered a substitute.(inferior or superior you decide *grin* ) Attached is something i wrote in sec4 while my chinese was still fit to be seen (unlike now). It is hopelessly innocent and idealistic and thus not at all like my present jaded self. ahha! But that is just the transition into experience, showing the two contrary states of the human soul, or so blake says. Sigh. Why do i keep quoting that man, i wonder.

____

他和她的故事

冬，空荡的树枝承着白皑皑的寒雪
大地沉睡在一片冷冽寂寞中
风幽幽掠过，撩起如同蚕丝的卷卷银发――
熟悉的小路虽已深埋雪底，却仍可以看到她的串串足迹
一串串戳在心中…串起曾经。

＊＊＊

亦冬。
天色阴暗，他漫步在都市的大街，小巷。
喧嚣中，不急不徐，垂头数着自己的脚步。
多次的擦肩而过，在他的凝思中变成幻觉
对他来说，都市的生活就像一场无休的梦，
昼昼夜夜，来了又去，去了又来――
觉得无味，但也不曾容许自己梦醒…

冬天。
雪花轻飘，她兴奋地欣赏着它们优美的舞蹈。
白雪中，高举双手，欢跃接纳天堂的厚礼。
透明的水晶珠子，在她阳光般的微笑中闪闪发亮，
对她来说，雪花就像小小天使的翅膀，
载着上帝给人的祝福，永恒的希望――
在最黑暗的时候，为生命开拓另一道路…

＊＊＊

她，总是满腹期待地憧憬每一天的到来。
而他，却为每一日的流逝松一口气。

＊＊＊

也许是偶然，就在那冰冷的冬天，
缘分安排了最荒谬的结合，她与他，在浓雾中识到了对方的存在。
他看到了她，一瞬间，觉得世界的色彩都汇集在那清澈的双眸中。
她看到了他，一刹那，感觉天使的翅膀都围绕着他那飘散的银发。

分叉的十字路口，两人骤然停下了脚步。
路上的车来来往往，他透过车窗寻觅她的身影。
白白雪花从天而降，她透过片片追随他的轮廓。
车一辆辆，雪一片片，视线却不间断，化为永恒。

从此，
冬天不再是一个人的季节，
一个人的梦。

他常提起两人相会的那天，当他发觉世界并不只有黑暗，因为她的光。
她最爱抚摸他的秀发，笑说他是天使下凡，因为他的“双翅”。
月白风清，在那叶已凋落的树影下，她乐呵呵地为他跳舞，苗条的身子随着树枝摇摆。
而他，凑合地打着拍子，沉浸在她散发的光芒。

他说她就如夜间的火把，点燃了他冰冷的心房。
她说她才不是什么火把，因为火会将天使的翅膀溶化。

她恋上了他的冷，
他离不开她的热。

但冷和热终究不能永远保持平衡，
热可以继续燃烧着，
但冷却会被热温暖。
她依然是那般的热血奔腾，
他却已失去了以往的冷若冰霜。

他的改变，使她无法再看见那双忧郁却又绝美的雪翅。

＊＊＊

冬末。
天气逐渐暖和，到处的冰块开始溶化。
昔日的分叉路口，如今已剩下寥寥无几的行人。

她，决定离开冬季的回忆，另寻一个属于她的天堂。
他，无奈的望着她的背影，脸上的泪迅速结冰。

她说他的银发会永远飘在她的心里，
他说她的心里只剩下熄灭的梦。

她希望他会幸福。
她就是他的希望。

春天为她到来。
冬天为他驻留。

春，夏，秋，冬；
她的离开，却只给他的生命留下了一季。

＊＊＊

大地仍然沉睡，风还在吹。
他依旧在都市中徘徊，寻找着那一束光芒。
雪上的足迹如冬天般不散……
银发飞扬。

Scholar eh?

Scholarship interviews are really amusing things. Sitting in front of three interviewers fibbing more than you ever did in your entire life does not exactly lead to an accurate summation of your character, as the interviewers very well know but still continue doing, all to keep up MOE's ruse that one's character matters more than the single (or double) digit in your scholarship application form. Or so Barnard's theory says.

Yet, even with this single powerful piece of information, one cannot but help but be plagued with the nagging feeling that the MOE might one day wake up and start initiating TRUE meritocracy. And so there we were, killing ourselves over Iraq and Darfur and Sino-Japan relations, things we never even knew existed before the dratted interview.

It also explains the disheveled appearance of the newspapers in my house.

But whatever it is, the scholarship interviews were a very enlightening experience, having let me in on various snippets of 'classified' information which i would never have known otherwise.

Number one, discounting the hair (or grey-whitish fluff) , the head of the head of the college with the baggy green skirts sets me humming to the tune of 'Humpty Dumpty".

Number two, chinese interviewers like to prove their billingualism by reading up on Wordsworth the day before and popping questions about his works at the unsuspecting interviewee on the day of the interview. Upon discovering (not surprisingly) that the interviewee is less versed than he is on the writing style of the master, he gives a 'holier-than-thou' smile and proceeds with the next question.

Number three, when asked whether you would sell your soul to a paedophilic institution obsessed with torturing people younger than yourself, always answer in the affirmative. It is after all, polite, as doing otherwise would be to question the moralities of the three people before you; something which rational people don't do to their walking ATMs.

Number Four, unless in the most complimentary terms, avoid the word 'Government' or 'PAP'. Even more taboo is the discussion of these terms, implying that you know exactly whats going on (which in most cases, hardly casts you in a positive light). THAT is most antagonising for the MOE, since it renders their "i-know-more-than-you-do" stance ludicrous. To put it simple, it makes them look like thickos.

Number five, humans interviewers like people who think like Westerners and act like Asians. (aka. Western ideas, Asian values) but Lep interviewers like people who think like Asians and act like Asians (aka. little confucians). Therefore it is of utmost importance that you know your audience before you start thinking up your politically correct answers (read: fibs).

So this ends my discourse on scholarship interviews. Come to think of it, thats a lot of work to do for a meagre 2000 bucks. The government (oops!) is decidedly parsimonious. But then again, I don't think I am the kind of talent they are looking for. I just hope that i don't meet hodge anytime soon at the voiddeck, or my own words might just come back to haunt me.


(having fun being sarcastic here. not to be held accountable for any offensive or subversive comments in the process of self-ridicule. and most importantly: don't put my url within reach of any moe personnel! haha )

My Perdition.

You are birthed every Sunday, to a book and two sticks-
Hewn from the same stump from which our idols are born.

White-winged sentinels linger at your bedpost in silent vigil, Oblivious
To the shrieks of raven-haired maids- our waxen vigilante.

Here, incense incenses you- A whiff means a trip to Purgatory and Back;
Too reminiscent of the ashes of crones still smoldering from ancient days.

The faithful is blest with unconditional love and forgiveness which nullifies all crime.
Unlike us, who live off faith like leeches, (trapped) in the race to do good.

Your father goes to heaven,
while we mourn, for a Man.

Truce?

Act three: Resolution (Ferret Wars)

They were in the distance- two shadows within mere centimetres of each other, enclosed in the thick growth of weeds that shielded them from each other’s view. Sunlight, dressed in fine mist, fell softly about the dark figures like a mother eager to protect its young- Yet – as man is oblivious to nature’s tender administrations- its kind intention is met with ingratitude. But that is easily understood, for the darkness blinds, and binds them.

For a long while they stood in their own clearing- stock-still, head drooping, neck curved in a graceful arch, looking as a black swan might marvel at its own reflection in the water. They were aware of each other's presence, the same way a gazelle is aware of the cheetah lurking amongst the grasses of the savannah, waiting to pounce. It's predator and prey, and vice versa.

Night fell, and moonlight streamed in through the gaps between the leaves. I watched in muted silence as it enveloped the silhouettes in a layer of frosty silver. A cold wind blew, sending the bushes into a wild thrashing frenzy. Darkness, raw and unrelenting, gnawed at morality's last fortifications.

The figures moved. I leaped into the fray.

The loud snap of a branch- signalled that all was over.

Mein Kampf

went for the rg gym performance today. i met my rj seniors, rj batchmates, and rg juniors, though i doubt there is a need to draw a distinction since all three groups are under the large umbrella called 'the raffles family' - something which i used to find comfort, and take pride in.

my old glory -though i am not under its protection anymore.

I said my farewells long ago, when the words 'hwa chong institution' seeped into the blue paper of the humanities scholarship application form. Leaving only a dead end, to the other journey laid out for me-
a path I used to think was the only way through.

rg gym - rj gym. rg house cheerleading - rj faculty cheerleading. rg girl - rj girl.
Rafflesians unite.

How callously I had flung this kinship aside, attributing the lingering depressions to a passing sentimentality sure to fade. Time- time would cure me of my wounds. Time is my balm.

And so it was- for the short space of three months.

As we stood before a cheering audience, singing the song that said we belonged, I was euphoric - rejoicing in my long-overdue initiation into the hwa chong 'farmily'. At last, I have found my second 'raffles'.

I thought my days as a refugee were over-

Until tonight.
when I stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of white and green, speaking a slang i thought i once knew, laughing at jokes which i used to initiate and now did not comprehend. Trying to be who I once was, when they were who they once were.

But we are sundered now, by more than just distance.

My brown skirt, clashes with your green billowing one. Your shirt - isn't water and fire resistant, unlike mine.
To think we both used to walk in the same blue and white ensemble, singing 'dedication'-

'Hand in hand, we work and strive, for the best things in life."

my mouth chants the word raffles, when I think you aren't looking.




(this isn't intended to offend. it is a mere rant of a person vacillating between past and present, imagination and reality,torn by different loyalties. ignore it, if you must.)