the smu-difference is no different

it IS the midterm BREAK. of course, we should've known by now what that means isn't a sunny holiday in koh samui or a budget-breaking skip along the streets of hong kong (why does being broke suddenly sound enticing?). it still means school work, deadlines, tests and project meetings. which brings me to bitterly bitch about the structure of our courses nowadays in smu. yes, it used to be different; project work instead of lecture-tutorial style of teaching, more interaction between students and professors and all that fancy mancy terms to describe hold-you-by-the-throat timetables. but now, it is all that and more. i am appalled by the lightly weighted 5% project work which doesn't, unfortunately, translate to lightly weighted workload. and modules that are filled with these components (i mean, professors DO have to make the entire course worth 100% afterall). the reason i have had sleepless nights from week 1-7 of my final school term is so i can have a well-deserved BREAK, for crying out loud. but it is still back to school on a monday morning, miserably murmuring under my breath about how tragic it is to be back while everyone else is actually BREAK-ing.

not.

everyone's there. doing the same 5% crap as i am (ok, maybe theirs is 20%?).there is no point. haven't we all been whining about our education system since we were 8?

what "difference" does smu make?

the wish to be alone.

and soon it will all crash in on me.
it is they cease or i perish

or the bliss of death allayed pain

blue

THE BLUE GUITAR
The man bent over his guitar,
A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.

They said, ‘You have a blue guitar,
You cannot play things as they are.’

The man replied, ‘Things as they are
Are changed upon the blue guitar.’

And they said then, ‘But play, you must,
A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,
A tune upon the blue guitar
Of things exactly as they are.’

-wallace stevens

Beyond all this, the wish to be alone.

-adapted from wants by philip larkin

With That She Smiled

jagged tears on calender pages
silence in the hovering air sinks
stacked away her fading pictures
the tv in its constant running

three times three
that's nine grandchildren
third son's first is two years older
when will she be back from melbourne
it don't matter, as long as it's worth

her curves and creases
deepening as her fading pictures
with which her stories like echoes sing
and i'd still be listening

my old letters

i bought a new book.and when i buy new things,i tend to try tidy up my mess; dig out the old stuff,organise it.maybe it's my form of making way for the new?so i chose to tidy up my box of letters without knowing how far back they date.there were those from friends,best friend (sung, your pile was the highest!all our aerograms!),enemy (i found one hate letter),lovers,secret and not so secret admirers,crushes,penpals,angels and mortals... in a moment, i was 5 then 7,13 then 17.i was first at 395 bukit timah road then 68 jalan girang, 93 seletar hills then 1 duke street...

how far have i travelled?how long have i been?

24 years.

compressed in an hour.

i laughed and teared,sighed and giggled.squirmed and squealed,gaped and baffled.
some moments i wish i did better, some that "-ed" won't appear.

but at the end,i always find myself
here.
having to stabilize myself in reality.

reunion dinner

while teh gao tells me to not spoil cny for him,i cant help but lament about how pretentious and political this "festive season" is (was).but politics and pretense for me, ceased with the death of ah gong on 2nd november 2005.those who cared for the tangibly meaningless,albeit powerful,allow for his life to linger on in them.as such, this is my reunion dinner tribute to him.

salad art
(no it's not supposed to look like ah gong...)

boundaries, always boundaries, and the longing for infinite space.

- jeanette winterson