And this one:

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead.
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

- Not Waving but Drowning, Stevie Smith

I like this one:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

- Leisure, William H. Davies

I like a good poem
one with lots of fighting
in it. Blood, and the
clanging of armour. Poems

against Scotland are good,
and poems that defeat
the French with crossbows.
I don't like poems that

aren't about anything.
Sonnets are wet and
a waste of time.
Also poems that don't

know how to rhyme.
If I was a poem
I'd play football and
get picked for England.

- A good poem, Roger McGough

Probably what is good or bad poem is subjective since different people like different sort of poetry. Someone once said that poetry is the shortest way of saying things. It is also nicer looking on a page than prose. What poetry should be is something that allows for room to think and dream. Perhaps you learnt a poem by heart to show how much you like it. But then, you have to like it enough at first glance to be able to learn it by heart. So what is a poem that you will learn by heart?

On unpacking:

I have finally unpack the last box of my belongings that i shipped back from London one year ago. Exactly one year ago. Perhaps it was an unconscious effort to maintain some links to a past that no longer exist. I have not really thought about it. The box just sit outside in my garage untouched, unnoticed for the past year.

I unpacked programs from all the plays/musicals/shows that i had watched, textbooks, files, notes, articles i needed for my thesis, thesis interviews, ornaments, books i had bought from flea markets and bookshops (modern fiction, romance, poetry, penguin classics that cost only �1, russian novels, autobiographies), travel guidebooks (sweden, germany, belgium, spain, ireland, greece), tupperwarez, clothes pegs, wash bag, cloths i had used to cover my stereo and tv, an old tape recorder, bottles, and one year old tabloid papers i used to buffer my books with. All covered in a fine layer of dust.

These things had reminded me of the times i spent in London. Some of these aren't even mine, but leftovers from my boyfriend when he left a year before me. I remembered the plays and musicals that i have watched, and some that i had already forgotten. Remembered last summer when i was writing my thesis, pouring over my notes, articles and interviews, trying to finish up and meeting the deadline. Remember my schedule i had written with the crayons i got free from pizza hut on when i should finished my revisions and thesis. I recalled the various tupperwarez and clothes pegs left behind from my boyfriend which i had not touched since i last saw them at his place in Aylesbury. Remembered the tabloids i would buy weekly to obtained the tv schedule which came with it for free. The books i bought from fleamarkets and waterstones to read during winter nights when i felt lonely so that i don't have to always watch the tv. All the travel guidebooks i browsed through thinking then that i would make those trips before i graduate, which of course i didn't. A washbag still in its original covering because i bought one too many. An old tape recorder of my boyfriend who used it once to tape our discussion about his final year degree show in the middle of the night as he felt that what we were discussing were useful for him during his exams and that his memory was too short to remember everything verbatim.

Now all are unpacked and sorted into respective places in my room. When will i ever have the chance of looking at them and thinking back of my days before? Will i gaze upon my book of poetry as i walk past the shelf and remember? Will i ever take down those collection of programs and recollect? Now they are all sitting in my room together with my "present time" things, slowly being assimilated with things that did not belong in or belong to London. They too will become "present". I am glad for a chance to sit down with all those belongings and give them the attention that i should have long ago. It was not a conscious effort to do so as it was a necessity to clear away the "eye sore" before my parents came home. But nonetheless i am happy to spend some time with my past before the objects and memories go down to a place when they will no longer be so readily available.

When they were in their boxes, i know i can always open it up and have the memories pop right infront of me. But now, all the boxes are gone, I guess like all things, we can only contain our past for so long before every thing becomes the present and the past gets left further and further behind. No more unpacking to do. Everything is in its place. I guess we all have to move on.
Some day.

Realization no. 24:

It has been one year already.

My cat on a hot tiled roof.
I don't think the birds are too happy.

On A.I.:

Watched that A.I. a while ago, but didn't have a chance to sit down and digest it yet. I guess the only thing i really want to say about it was that the ending was too "sweet". Just not "Kubrickesque" enough. I would have preferred it to stop where David was trapped for eternity under the sea, facing the Blue fairy. In a way, he would have found what he has been looking for without realizing his dream. That is the harsh but romantised reality. 2000 years on and a supreme alien race would stop to grant our wishes? Somehow i felt that the last 10 minutes of the film was almost added in as an after-thought. Trying to work it in so that David got what he wanted, so that the audience can go home feeling better. The poignancy was still there, but it is different, more of a contented sigh than a jarring shake. Too spielberg i feel. He probably couldn't carry on the dark edge that is Kubrick right to the end.

Reality is, people don't always get what they want. Neither do little human-like robots. The journey i felt was more important than the ending. He did find what he was looking for under the sea in Manhattan. That is the reality of all Blue fairies but hasn't his search of being a real boy, with all the human emotions attached, and love he felt been already fulfilled by him setting off on his journey already? That question could be pondered upon for eternity as he rest under the sea without an alien blue fairy to put a full stop, an end point, an answer to it.

ROM is such a momentous occasion. I wonder if both of you were nervous at all. Was it like bungee jumping? A mixture of fear and exhilaration? What an adventure both of you are embarking upon!

I wish for you both to be happy always and to always remember to have fun in your marriage.
And mommy? Don't ever forget to put the toilet seat up. *chuckles*

*HUGZ*
Be good to each other you two and take care.

On old songs:

It is the 80s weekend on Class 95fm. My brother should be happy. He always professed to be an 80s kid.
I would be one too, except that while he was listening to english songs back in the mid-late 80s, i was listening to 93.3fm.
When he was listening to chinese songs in the 90s, i was listening to the perfect10.

Ultimately, when it comes down to putting a tag on what music period i belong to, i would say i am a 70-80s chinese oldies kid.
For some reasons, i simply can't forget those old chinese songs by teresa teng, zhen ni, yu tian and the younger ones like fei yu qing, cai qin, cai xin juan, out of my mind.

I can never remember exactly when did i used to hear these songs. I don't remember having a radio around when i was young. Did we have karaoka back then? I know my parents love these songs too. The only vivid memory and link that i could possibly have for such songs dates back to the late 70s and early 80s when i was around 4-6yrs old. My dad used to be in the interior furnishing business back in Msia, and he used to furnish resturants and carabet clubs that were so popular in those days. I remember being in this place called the Golden Palace. By day and evening, it was a grand chinese restuarant. In fact it was one of the biggest back then. By night, it was a music lounge and dance hall. The owner used to engage singers and dancers there. I distinctly remembered seeing Fei yu qing there performing once.

As kids, my brothers and i were there fairly often, usually for dinners. My dad had a VIP sort of status then as the owner owed him money for the furnishing and as my dad put it, "we are just eating back our costs". After dinner, my parents would sit around drinking with friends and my brothers and I would run around looking at the live seafood swimming in the tanks and gliding on the dance floor. I can't remember exactly how the singers looked like but my impression of the place was that it was glittery, with red flashing disco lights and red big lounge sofas. Perhaps that is why these old songs are so imbedded within me, due to all those long nights (when i suppose i should be sleeping) of gliding in a glittery music lounge.

These days, i keep one or two CDs in my cars playing these old songs when i am driving. Most assumed that since it is my dad's car, those CDs are his. It sort of drives my passengers crazy but then i have known a few who really liked them too. It certainly makes them wonder why on earth am i listening to these songs and is able to even sing along. Like a memory of a smell, even as you smell it now, makes you nostagic and comfortable, these songs have such effect on me. It sort of brings me back to a time when everything was different and while i cannot remember everything that had happened back then, it was nonetheless, a secure and comfortable feeling, not unlike being in a mother's womb or embrace.

I used to think my brother looks like certain so-and-so actor and no one else but me will see the resemblence.
My friends attributed it to brother-worshipping.
Nonsense.

I just realized that my cousin looks exactly like takuya kimura.
Geez they even share the same year of birth, and same month!
Now, that's freaky.
But i have a feeling i will be the only one who can see the resemblence again.
I can't help seeing things that other people don't.
Perhaps it is a gift.
Or perhaps some would say i am just myopic.

What should one do when one has ran out of things to say?

It is at times awkward and frustrating.
Sometimes, it is comfortable and calm.
Those long pauses between sentences.
Sometimes it is an excuse to end the conversation.
Sometimes it served as an interlude for you to recollect your thoughts.
To start on another topic anew.

My cat sleeps in the day
so as to harass me in the night.

Found out that i am the Emcee (again) for Children's day which is going to be held at Pasir Ris.
Except this time, i have to speak in Chinese.
All because the committee chairman found out that i listen to chinese songs on the radio.
Whoever said listening chinese songs would lead to the logical conclusion that i will be able to emcee the event in competent chinese?
Ah well...

Realization no. 23:

My cat seemed to have disappeared.

What i liked from the BAF:

1) The periwig maker
2) Robots
3) Fast Spin Fling

On British Animation Festival:

Singaporean animators certainly have a long way to go. The disparity between the student works from the two countries is quite evident. However, it is encouraging to see students here embarking on such an art form with such gusto. One can only hope more will attempt different forms of animations in the future once they are more comfortable in this genre. No doubt animations are moving into more computer oriented premises. And it would also be much easier and less time consuming for students here to stick to the computer animations. But i felt that other methods should also be explored. The ideas and the method of expression is generally quite raw over here (with the exception of perhaps computer renderings) but this is afterall relatively new in Singapore. So i will be looking forward to better animations in the future because the potential is certainly there.

I hate watching movies alone.
A movie doesn't seem complete without some discussion with another person at the end of it some how.

Psy-Jagon 1: Prompt

Prompt, a form of help given to indicate to another what he/she has to do.

There are several types of prompts:

1. Gestural (e.g. pointing)
2. Verbal (e.g. "over there")
3. Physical (which includes partial or full - e.g. holding the hand to write [full], nudging [partial])

We can also describe a prompt as minimal (gestures such as eyeing or opening the hand to indicate give) or maximal (full physical prompts). The rest could constitute moderate prompts depending on context. Prompts can also be use in combination (e.g. pointing and saying "keep").

On report writing:

I guess that is the most tedious part of my job. But it is also the most important part. Each child that i had done an assessment on will forever have this report kept in his file. It would determine if an external agency would accept him. It would help future teachers on knowing the child better in terms of his functioning level. It would determine the help he can potentially receive.

Of course there is a time span where an assessment report would be valid. For a standard IQ test, perhaps up to 2 years. The same IQ test could not be administered twice within a year because of practise effects. Hence an IQ assessment report would still be useful within two years after it was finished. For other assessment like adaptive behaviour and development assessment would be much more dynamic and much more changes could be expected due to perhaps developmental progress or environmental changes. The lifespan of such reports may not be long, but are still extremely useful in determining the functioning level of the child at that particular period of time. It would provide useful information that could be use for intervention.

One assessment report generally include 1-2 tests. A test for functioning level and one for adaptive behaviour. Sometimes 2-3 IQ tests may be attempted as the previous test may have failed in solicitating responses (e.g. test requirement is higher than child's functioning level or child tantruming), hence unscorable. The report will also include detailed description of the child's behaviour during testing, an observation of child in class or group setting, along with information provided by the teacher and an interview conducted with the caregiver on child's adaptive behaviour. Sometimes a child may have an assessment report without an IQ score but the other parts of the report would have given the reader an idea of how the child is functioning.

Some reports are easier to write than others. Some external agencies only require the interview with the caregiver for referral. I could usual finish one within two hours. But those which include an IQ assessment is much more detailed and harder to write. The detailed observation and reporting on individual test items are fairly straightforward, but it is difficult when it comes to the conclusion as it requires more than a summary of the report, it also require clinical judgement and evaluation. The conclusion would also include the recommendations. For example, which external agencies should he be referred to. And if he is not being referred out, what action would benefit the child from the information that has been obtained (e.g. specific therapy). Hence i spend a great deal of time writing the conclusion even though it only constitute 1/5 generally of the assessment report.

One assessment report can take me a day to write if i just concentrate on it solely. However it is difficult to do so as it is rather draining. So i much rather write a section here and there (usually starting with those that are straightforward reporting) before sitting down and concentrate on the conclusion.

My cat is fat.
And that is that.

Can someone tell me where do i find time?

I am part of the trival world who can only look on with horror showing on our faces.
And then carrying on with our lives.
Think of those who can't.

Realization no. 22:

Template wouldn't save.

Things seem to escalate beyond control. I am not sure what will be happening next but just hoping that things will somehow turn out alright. But who knows, in three days time, everything will just blow up in our faces. The incident is uncomprehensible, so is the aftermath. Whatever it is, all of us have cause to be concern and perhaps, worry.

Something of such magnitude is beyond words to describe and images however horrifying, does not in any way magnified the true reality of what has happened. Just like war photographs that has depicted time and time again, the horrors of death and violence. The truth is, reality would only be much much worse. Worse than anyone, but for the victims and their family, to imagine it to be.

Such death and devastation is beyond my comprehension. Even trying to talk or write about it now belittle the true significance and horror of it all. The only reason that i can still remain articulate and rational shows how little i understand and little it involves me. Sympathy is all that i am allowed. Let the people who grieve for their loved one lost to grieve in peace. Even though the burden is immense, their sadness is too sacred for any of us to hold.

It is like the whole world has gone crazy while i was sleeping last night.

I don't want to speculate. It is surreal watching building collapsed and the degree of devastation.
People jumping out of buildings. Smoke. Crashes. Ash.

What the hell is wrong?

My cat likes to lick my hands and feet.
It feels like a tiny exfoliating brush.

My concept:

Vesatility in uniformity.

I want uniformed sizes of glass cases for each shoe.
Both existing as an individual design but also the possibility of a collective whole.
In each case, a symbolic display. A shoe in different functional settings:

A plate and a shoe in a glass case.

Simple. Surreal? Limitless possibilities for a shoe. For a framework of display.

As a collective.
Uniformed individual cases of a same design put side by side:
A pole with shoe hanging heel faced out. 3 cases side by side.
Existing both as individual and as collective.

Why don't i put all three shoes into one long glass cases?

I do not want to enforce a relationship on all three shoes by putting a single boundary on all three.
They will be forever viewed as a collective. Its individualism lost.
Just like needing the audience to envisage the association of a plate and a shoe.
The relationship of three identical cases can only be inferred by its proximity.
And not enforced by a single case boundary.

I would have parts exisiting as a singular individual.
I would have parts making a whole.
But i would not have a whole without parts.

That is why it is necessary for individual shoes to be in their individual cases.
And yet exist a possibility of them coming together to form a whole.
A whole with its parts clearly defined.

I want possibilities. Open ends. Vesatility.
Not a finality.

Of visiting a hair salon:

Some people enjoys facial or going for spa treatments, but I enjoy going to the hair salon and have my hair "done" for 3 hours. It is relaxing sitting in a hair salon on a friday afternoon, sipping tea and reading magazines while someone else gives their full attention on your hair for a couple of hours. It is something else to have an "expert" to wash your hair and massaging your head. For 3 hours or more, i don't have to think about anything important or urgent to do. My only immediate concern was what colours would i like my hair to be highlighted, what cut should i go for.

I must admit my main objective when i stepped into the hair salon on friday was to recreate the previous hairstyle and hair colours that i have had. I have been putting off going to a salon because i was worried that they would not get it exactly the way i want it. Turns out to be a waste of time worrying. I still did not managed to get it across to the stylist that what i want was my old hairstyle back. I wonder if it was because i am not eloquent enough, or that she is feeling slighted because i kept bringing up the fact that the previous hairstyle was done in london.

A telling remark: "different places have different opinions. In spore is different."

Perhaps i should have kept my mouth shut about London and just gave the exact same instruction as when i was in london.
"Striking but not drastic"
Not surprising, everyone's idea of that statement can differ. Perhaps i should explain myself clearer. In whichever case, she created something more "natural". I am still in the midst of accepting it. It is as she said, "more natural", perhaps she assume from the way i dress and looked (conservative) that i did not mean striking striking but rather a wannabe striking.

Of course i did not mean total blond sort of striking. But neither do i want it very "natural". What is the point of colouring your hair and end up looking like you have never gone for it? Perhaps what i should have said is, i want something striking and yet not drastic. Oh wait. I have said that already. Or maybe, striking and yet natural? Fake but not overpowering? Obvious but yet perfect blend of shades?

I can only afford to do this once a year. So you can imagine why i want something that i really really like. That is not to say that i don't like what i have now. It is natural. The colours blended nicely. My only qualm with it is that it is just not "striking" enough. Perhaps my previous hairstylist done too great a job. I am going to forever compare that with the future hairstyles i am going to have. It doesn't seem fair to compare but i don't think i can help it. It is like breaking up with an ex, but still comparing (unconsciously at times) him with your present SO. In any case, i am never going to be able to afford flying back to London once a year just to do my hair (I wish. On top of all the other things that i want to go back to london for).

It certainly sound frivolous, since i did enjoy my time in the hair salon tremendously. But then it is sort of trumatic to finally get something that you love so much, and then find out that you have lost it forever.

Even for something as insignificant as hair colours.

Realization no. 21:

Hair "stylists" are egotistical creatures.

He is quick, thinking in clear images;
I am slow, thinking in broken images.

He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images.

Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.

Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact;
Questioning their relevance, I question the fact.

When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
When the fact fails me, I approve my senses.

He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broke images.

He in a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confusion.

- In broken Images, Robert Graves

another reason why i prefer to be a cynic...

Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.

The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace seal'd,
The human heart its hungry gorge.

- A Divine Image, William Blake

Today feels like sunday.

Happy Birthday to You!
Happy Birthday to YOU!
Happy Birthday to YouuUuu!
Happy Birthday to you!!!!

Cherish your youth. While it last!

My brother sent me an Asterix and Obelix comic from Australia on his birthday. Strange to receive a present from the birthday boy himself but that is why he such a sweet guy in the first place. I should take him shopping once he gets back. He did mentioned that he would like to bankrupt me.

What is happening to the people around me?
What are you people preoccupied with these days?
Are you having a good time? Having a tough time?
Working late? Breaking up? Losing sleep? Feeling lethagic?
Losing self?
Perhaps i should call.
But what will i say?

I wish to know what is happening. I just don't know how.

Things are ever changing. Sometimes it is hard to find one's bearing while the world shifts constantly under one's feet. I always feel that if i am not careful, trying to juggle all that i have and find my balance, i will fall through a gap in the gutter and be forgotten.
But i think i am just paranoid.

My cat miss his doctor's appointment again.
A last moment's reprieve?

Realization no. 20:

If i have to take myself seriously all the time, than everyone else around me would have been miserable.

On my way home:

(Recording thought process)

Tired. Eyes can't seem to open well.
Cant be good. After all i am driving.
Trying to keep awake. What if i get into an accident?
Accident. My schoolmate died in a car accident.
I wonder how does one feel after they die. Where do they go?
I don't want to die now.
Trying to keep awake. Check rear mirror.
Afterlife. Japanese movie.
Trying to remember what happened in the movie.
A girl. A guy. Why didn't the guy want to move on?
Details of the movie. Video tapes.
Girl took over guy.
What memory did some of the characters take with them?
What memory will i take with me?
For eternity.
Quite mind boggling.
Better keep awake. My eyes are tired.
How long longer till i get home?
Singing to Zhang Yu Sheng's Da hai on the CD.

(End recording of thoughts process)

On Womad 2001:

Only one act stood out for the two days that i was there.
Sierra Maestra. The band from Cuba.
The rest were forgettable.

This is my first time attending a Womad festival. I must say it is enjoyable despite the warm nights, the crowd (i, being slightly claustrophobic) and bug bites. It was nice to lie on the mat staring at the sky listening and relaxing to the music. I was contented to just watch people going up front to the stage to dance. Somehow, i think it was nicer to sit back and relax than go forward and sweat it out with the crowd. I will probably consider going again next year. But this time i will bring food. It was way too expensive to buy anything there.