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Monday, 20 December 2004
Monday, 13 December 2004
This is me and Xiaoyun at Bondi Beach! At the right hand side of the picture you may see something resembling a shark. It's not.
We went to several lookouts on that day we took that picture. It was pretty! There was this place you could see the sunset upon Sydney city and many other great night views of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House. We really have to thank Xiaoyun's friend for bringing us to all these places, which without him would probably have been impossible. For one, the public transport here is really difficult.
Anyway, there's really too much of this and that. I'll update more later!
Friday, 3 December 2004
Tonsils
I'm ill..... down with tonsillitis... this is how my throat looks like now. *suffering* Think i screamed too much at the SG Idol finals. Now that it's finally over, my groupie days are gone too.
Back to my books.... (why can't i be studying anatomy of the throat?? definately pass it with flying colours.)
Back to my books.... (why can't i be studying anatomy of the throat?? definately pass it with flying colours.)
Thursday, 2 December 2004
很多事情我都已经不记得了。
他的名字怎么写,他的身高,甚至他的脸。
遗忘也许是好的吧！
我却都一直忘不了他。
Is that kinda onz or is that very 'song'?
Anyways, Su says, "It doesn't insinuate anybody so don't read too much into it."
This is a short and crappy installment. I'll use the time after JLPT (ONE ok! ONE!!!) and before I leave for Australia to blog once more! On the timeline, that would be between 5th Dec - 8th Dec.
For now, I'll pretend to study... like what JY is doing! Oh, and probably WH too!
他的名字怎么写,他的身高,甚至他的脸。
遗忘也许是好的吧！
我却都一直忘不了他。
Is that kinda onz or is that very 'song'?
Anyways, Su says, "It doesn't insinuate anybody so don't read too much into it."
This is a short and crappy installment. I'll use the time after JLPT (ONE ok! ONE!!!) and before I leave for Australia to blog once more! On the timeline, that would be between 5th Dec - 8th Dec.
For now, I'll pretend to study... like what JY is doing! Oh, and probably WH too!
Thursday, 25 November 2004
It’s about my Grandfather.
He’s dead. He died recently, about 2 months ago.
It’s very queer to have him not be around although we don’t usually hang out or have an especially close relationship. I’m not his favourite grandchild, and I see him at most once a week, sometimes once a month. We seldom talk. If we do it’s me thanking him for an Ang Pao or him asking me or Ming something about the Chinese language. He’s interested in things like that, in China, in Politics, in Tradition.
Usually, he’s smiley when it comes to talking to me or Ming or any of his grandchild for that matter. He’s nice! He’s obliging and caring to us in a way, like a traditional man, not explicitly, but you know he is. You know because he didn’t like my job as a reporter, because he didn’t like me going to the Middle East, because he was worried that the place is unsafe, so he was glad my job ended. I know he cared in his unspoken ways. He didn’t tell me all that. He probably told my mom, and somehow I came to know. Most of his feelings, his thoughts were never told to me by him, I always just come to know. We really, hardly communicated yet we’re bonded by blood and we cared, somehow.
I respect my grandfather but he seemed to play a small part in the decisions I make in my life. Like what I want to study or what job I choose. I think he never felt that he had the power to change my decisions and he never did try. Sometimes when I think about it, he seemed to play such a small part in my life! Taking so little of my time! Yet I feel that he is an important person. It’s very contradictory.
Anyway, my grandfather is a very meticulous person. When the ambulance came for him, he insisted on dressing up for the hospital. He always dresses up. Not fancifully, but appropriately. On that day, I heard, he insisted on wearing his 2 layers of pants and because he’s so thin, that was a norm. The 2 layers of shirts were mandatory, of course. At the door step, he also feebly asked for his watch, refusing to leave without it. He also wore proper socks with his shoes. Everything was intact. Yes, he even took his umbrella.
At the hospital, the nurses gave us his belongings. It was HEAVY. His coins, his keys, his… stuff! He was a frail old man and he carried all that baggage around with him everyday. There were 3 tiny paper packets folded in old calendar-paper. They were probably about 2 cm in size and we were all dubious of what they were. Then we saw in neat handwriting, 班纳杜and another 陪自美(this one I’m not sure of the writing but it’s a kind of medicine for digestion) and one more, I forgot.
It was for that moment, rather funny. In the way the pills were so immaculately folded in calendar-paper and so well kept in his pockets as if they were prized possessions. He seemed like a very queer and funny man.
This old man insisted on bringing all his belongings, like a snail happily toting his shell, even if he was being rushed to the hospital.
There was a little comedy in that.
And then he passed away.
A short while after that we went to his flat to look at some of his belongings. Many things would be left for my Grandma to decide if they were to stay or to go. He had a little wooden table and a wooden stool (the stool now sits in Ming’s room). That was his work desk and it looked very simple, very modest. Before he retired, my Grandfather worked as a goldsmith and I think he spent many hours crouched over that wooden desk picking at necklaces and chains and repairing them. That I could imagine. What I didn’t imagine though, was that he had stacks of bus tickets on his desk. On the back of them, he scribbled in his laudable handwriting, many headlines from Lian He Zao Bao. Issues he wanted to ponder over sometime later. Things that people said that he wanted to remember. Names or quotes from famous people he thought were great. (Like MM Lee’s secretary, Mdm Yeong. I heard from my uncle that he admired her.) Issues like… I don’t remember clearly what I had seen there but probably things to do with China and Taiwan and laws implemented in Singapore. Things like that. He scribbled all this onto the back of used bus tickets. Did he want to recycle the bus tickets? Did he use them instead of a notebook or proper paper because he found them more portable? I don’t know but that is something that he did, and he did a lot of it.
Everything about my Grandfather was neat. He had everything ready for his death. The certificates were in place, the bank books. Everything that was needed for an easy settlement after his death was there and was well kept. He even wrote a will. That was the first time I had read something written by my Grandfather and it was indeed well written. Simple, straightforward and covered every aspect that we could think of. The language was very formal, I must say, it was very Chinese and that was very him.
Sometimes, he simply amused me because he was so old. Like when my cousin told me about the time my uncle nearly drove off when my Grandfather was getting into the car. As the car started, there he was this skinny little old man with one leg still outstretched and the car door still opened, hanging on to the bar above for his dear life. It was really funny just imagining that! I don’t know if it actually still sound funny, but when I imagine it, it is still. Or the time when he felt hungry but ran out of the bread he always brings around with him. It was so sudden and he was so hungry he was shivering. I don’t know. It’s just funny! This seems mean, but I’m not being mean. He amused me because I found him cute! I like to remember him that way, as being this funny without making an effort.
He was always busy though. You’d think a man of 90 years should be leading a very relaxed and slow paced life. That was not the case at all with my Grandfather. My Grandma said that he always complained about having not enough time.
别人有24小时，我也有24小时，为什么我的时间用得那么快？
That was his question. He was so busy he had no time to listen to a few Cantonese Opera cassettes that he bought. He said he couldn’t even spare that minute to put the cassette into the player. What was he busy with? I’m not very sure, but I know he reads the papers and that could take hours. He probably took naps and eating was also a slow event. I really cannot imagine anything else but there must be. There were things that he did everyday, things that were important to him.
I’m not ruminating about how I could have been a better granddaughter, forged a closer relationship with my Grandfather. It’s not like that. I like him the way he was with me and I like him enough the way I knew him to be. Although I cannot say for sure, I think he felt the same way towards me. I do feel curious though, of his youth and of his life.
Although we are not the paragon of Grandfather-granddaughter relationships, sometimes, I still do miss my Grandfather.
When I miss him, most of the time, I miss him for who I knew him to be.
Some of the time though, I miss him for the person I’ve never known him to be.
He’s dead. He died recently, about 2 months ago.
It’s very queer to have him not be around although we don’t usually hang out or have an especially close relationship. I’m not his favourite grandchild, and I see him at most once a week, sometimes once a month. We seldom talk. If we do it’s me thanking him for an Ang Pao or him asking me or Ming something about the Chinese language. He’s interested in things like that, in China, in Politics, in Tradition.
Usually, he’s smiley when it comes to talking to me or Ming or any of his grandchild for that matter. He’s nice! He’s obliging and caring to us in a way, like a traditional man, not explicitly, but you know he is. You know because he didn’t like my job as a reporter, because he didn’t like me going to the Middle East, because he was worried that the place is unsafe, so he was glad my job ended. I know he cared in his unspoken ways. He didn’t tell me all that. He probably told my mom, and somehow I came to know. Most of his feelings, his thoughts were never told to me by him, I always just come to know. We really, hardly communicated yet we’re bonded by blood and we cared, somehow.
I respect my grandfather but he seemed to play a small part in the decisions I make in my life. Like what I want to study or what job I choose. I think he never felt that he had the power to change my decisions and he never did try. Sometimes when I think about it, he seemed to play such a small part in my life! Taking so little of my time! Yet I feel that he is an important person. It’s very contradictory.
Anyway, my grandfather is a very meticulous person. When the ambulance came for him, he insisted on dressing up for the hospital. He always dresses up. Not fancifully, but appropriately. On that day, I heard, he insisted on wearing his 2 layers of pants and because he’s so thin, that was a norm. The 2 layers of shirts were mandatory, of course. At the door step, he also feebly asked for his watch, refusing to leave without it. He also wore proper socks with his shoes. Everything was intact. Yes, he even took his umbrella.
At the hospital, the nurses gave us his belongings. It was HEAVY. His coins, his keys, his… stuff! He was a frail old man and he carried all that baggage around with him everyday. There were 3 tiny paper packets folded in old calendar-paper. They were probably about 2 cm in size and we were all dubious of what they were. Then we saw in neat handwriting, 班纳杜and another 陪自美(this one I’m not sure of the writing but it’s a kind of medicine for digestion) and one more, I forgot.
It was for that moment, rather funny. In the way the pills were so immaculately folded in calendar-paper and so well kept in his pockets as if they were prized possessions. He seemed like a very queer and funny man.
This old man insisted on bringing all his belongings, like a snail happily toting his shell, even if he was being rushed to the hospital.
There was a little comedy in that.
And then he passed away.
A short while after that we went to his flat to look at some of his belongings. Many things would be left for my Grandma to decide if they were to stay or to go. He had a little wooden table and a wooden stool (the stool now sits in Ming’s room). That was his work desk and it looked very simple, very modest. Before he retired, my Grandfather worked as a goldsmith and I think he spent many hours crouched over that wooden desk picking at necklaces and chains and repairing them. That I could imagine. What I didn’t imagine though, was that he had stacks of bus tickets on his desk. On the back of them, he scribbled in his laudable handwriting, many headlines from Lian He Zao Bao. Issues he wanted to ponder over sometime later. Things that people said that he wanted to remember. Names or quotes from famous people he thought were great. (Like MM Lee’s secretary, Mdm Yeong. I heard from my uncle that he admired her.) Issues like… I don’t remember clearly what I had seen there but probably things to do with China and Taiwan and laws implemented in Singapore. Things like that. He scribbled all this onto the back of used bus tickets. Did he want to recycle the bus tickets? Did he use them instead of a notebook or proper paper because he found them more portable? I don’t know but that is something that he did, and he did a lot of it.
Everything about my Grandfather was neat. He had everything ready for his death. The certificates were in place, the bank books. Everything that was needed for an easy settlement after his death was there and was well kept. He even wrote a will. That was the first time I had read something written by my Grandfather and it was indeed well written. Simple, straightforward and covered every aspect that we could think of. The language was very formal, I must say, it was very Chinese and that was very him.
Sometimes, he simply amused me because he was so old. Like when my cousin told me about the time my uncle nearly drove off when my Grandfather was getting into the car. As the car started, there he was this skinny little old man with one leg still outstretched and the car door still opened, hanging on to the bar above for his dear life. It was really funny just imagining that! I don’t know if it actually still sound funny, but when I imagine it, it is still. Or the time when he felt hungry but ran out of the bread he always brings around with him. It was so sudden and he was so hungry he was shivering. I don’t know. It’s just funny! This seems mean, but I’m not being mean. He amused me because I found him cute! I like to remember him that way, as being this funny without making an effort.
He was always busy though. You’d think a man of 90 years should be leading a very relaxed and slow paced life. That was not the case at all with my Grandfather. My Grandma said that he always complained about having not enough time.
别人有24小时，我也有24小时，为什么我的时间用得那么快？
That was his question. He was so busy he had no time to listen to a few Cantonese Opera cassettes that he bought. He said he couldn’t even spare that minute to put the cassette into the player. What was he busy with? I’m not very sure, but I know he reads the papers and that could take hours. He probably took naps and eating was also a slow event. I really cannot imagine anything else but there must be. There were things that he did everyday, things that were important to him.
I’m not ruminating about how I could have been a better granddaughter, forged a closer relationship with my Grandfather. It’s not like that. I like him the way he was with me and I like him enough the way I knew him to be. Although I cannot say for sure, I think he felt the same way towards me. I do feel curious though, of his youth and of his life.
Although we are not the paragon of Grandfather-granddaughter relationships, sometimes, I still do miss my Grandfather.
When I miss him, most of the time, I miss him for who I knew him to be.
Some of the time though, I miss him for the person I’ve never known him to be.
Tuesday, 16 November 2004
Me and Sly
Monday, 15 November 2004
Tabitha
My niece is one mighty cute baby! She's also one of those baby girls who look like a boy. Try as her mom does by putting her in dresses and dolling her up with hair-clips but people still think she's a he.
Check her out, here looking adorable and somewhat at peace with the world!
I love babies!
And here is me! Practising, with no apparent goal in sight, to be a proud, young mom! The messy hair definitely makes the look!
Her name's Tabitha, by the way! Named after Samantha the (BE)Witch's daughter. Interesting name, comparable to the ones I have in store for my babies! Haha! Which I shall not repeat here because stupid people like to laugh at them!
They are really good names!
(hee hee... じまん... じまん...)
Sunday, 14 November 2004
Wenhao is star struck!
We have a new member in The Singapore Club of Groupies-who-Deny (that they are Groupies)*.
Other than dust, things in my room and very much everywhere else don’t just fall into place by themselves. Someone, namely you and I, have to use some energy to make some moves and put them into place. I learnt that when I started keeping my room clean. It’s not that I’ve never kept clean in my life but I’ve never had to keep up the neat and clean at the same time for so long. (note: there’s a difference between neat and clean.)
You ask why I should make the effort to be neat and clean now. Well, I have a new room and although in my perspective, it’s so clean and so neat but who cares about my perspective? It’s not enough for my dad and other nay-sayers (namely the Aunties with capital A). Not just the normal, “auntie, please pass the salt!” but “Auntie, you are my relative and my, my, you do have a lot to say!”
Never mind. My point is dust is indomitable. DUST IS US!
Dust is omnipresent regardless of time and space.
李白 said：
今人不見古時月,今月曾經照古人。
古人今人若流水,共看明月皆如此。
He could have said the same for dust because it is true!
Why do I painstakingly sweep and mop the floor only to have it be dusty again the next day? Why do I clean my shelves today when I have to do it again in 3 day’s time? Why? Why must I do that? Can’t I let the dirt culminate to a paramountcy before I combat them in one fell swoop? Say, once a week? No, I cannot. Why? Because it’s dirty and dirty is bad! Fine, but can’t I be not impeccably but manageably clean?
Manageably clean:
- Sweep & Mop own room (& other areas depending on time and mood) 2x/week
- Wipe/Dust shelves in own room 2x/week
- Make own bed 4x/week
- Pack own stuff in general 2x/week
Reasonable?
That already takes a lot of time and effort from me and I AM MAKING THE EFFORT!
People expect me to keep clean. These are people with either plenty of time on their hands with nothing else to do or people with maids or family members who are cleaning away behind-the-scenes. Good for them! But I do not have a maid nor do I have ample time to keep my room religiously clean. Nobody in my house likes to keep clean (my dad likes things clean, but he gets others to keep them clean. Ming is neat, not necessarily clean). I didn't expect my old place to be squeaky clean, neither do I expect my new place to be! In fact, I took a warped pride in telling people that, yes my place is messy because we all hate cleaning. By the way, do you do housework?
Anyway, if you currently cannot hold down my ‘Manageably clean’ schedule mentioned above, then don’t say that my room is messy. If you are one of those possessed cleaning family members, then we’re obviously not the same type of people, that’s why my room is not like yours. Finally, if you are the people who don’t do a thing but lives in a clean habitat because you have a maid or a possessed cleaning family, then surprise~! My room is still none of your business~!
So from now on, when you comment on the cleanliness of my room, it’s either fantastically neat/clean or manageably neat/clean. Please do not mention dirty or messy. If you absolutely have to, you can precede it with a negative e.g.: not dirty/not messy.
There is only one focal piece in my room.
We have a new member in The Singapore Club of Groupies-who-Deny (that they are Groupies)*.
---------------------------------------------------------
Other than dust, things in my room and very much everywhere else don’t just fall into place by themselves. Someone, namely you and I, have to use some energy to make some moves and put them into place. I learnt that when I started keeping my room clean. It’s not that I’ve never kept clean in my life but I’ve never had to keep up the neat and clean at the same time for so long. (note: there’s a difference between neat and clean.)
You ask why I should make the effort to be neat and clean now. Well, I have a new room and although in my perspective, it’s so clean and so neat but who cares about my perspective? It’s not enough for my dad and other nay-sayers (namely the Aunties with capital A). Not just the normal, “auntie, please pass the salt!” but “Auntie, you are my relative and my, my, you do have a lot to say!”
Never mind. My point is dust is indomitable. DUST IS US!
Dust is omnipresent regardless of time and space.
李白 said：
今人不見古時月,今月曾經照古人。
古人今人若流水,共看明月皆如此。
He could have said the same for dust because it is true!
Why do I painstakingly sweep and mop the floor only to have it be dusty again the next day? Why do I clean my shelves today when I have to do it again in 3 day’s time? Why? Why must I do that? Can’t I let the dirt culminate to a paramountcy before I combat them in one fell swoop? Say, once a week? No, I cannot. Why? Because it’s dirty and dirty is bad! Fine, but can’t I be not impeccably but manageably clean?
Manageably clean:
- Sweep & Mop own room (& other areas depending on time and mood) 2x/week
- Wipe/Dust shelves in own room 2x/week
- Make own bed 4x/week
- Pack own stuff in general 2x/week
Reasonable?
That already takes a lot of time and effort from me and I AM MAKING THE EFFORT!
People expect me to keep clean. These are people with either plenty of time on their hands with nothing else to do or people with maids or family members who are cleaning away behind-the-scenes. Good for them! But I do not have a maid nor do I have ample time to keep my room religiously clean. Nobody in my house likes to keep clean (my dad likes things clean, but he gets others to keep them clean. Ming is neat, not necessarily clean). I didn't expect my old place to be squeaky clean, neither do I expect my new place to be! In fact, I took a warped pride in telling people that, yes my place is messy because we all hate cleaning. By the way, do you do housework?
Anyway, if you currently cannot hold down my ‘Manageably clean’ schedule mentioned above, then don’t say that my room is messy. If you are one of those possessed cleaning family members, then we’re obviously not the same type of people, that’s why my room is not like yours. Finally, if you are the people who don’t do a thing but lives in a clean habitat because you have a maid or a possessed cleaning family, then surprise~! My room is still none of your business~!
So from now on, when you comment on the cleanliness of my room, it’s either fantastically neat/clean or manageably neat/clean. Please do not mention dirty or messy. If you absolutely have to, you can precede it with a negative e.g.: not dirty/not messy.
Thank you very much.
There is only one focal piece in my room.
---------------------------------------------------------
*If you are still unsure and so want to know of the criteria for entrance, look to Huiwen who’s an exemplary member.
Tuesday, 9 November 2004
Just a passing comment: I think Sun Yanzi is pretty critical. Or you can say cynical. She thinks Angels and Demons by Dan Brown is trashy (though entertaining), The Five People You Meet In Heaven tries too hard to make you feel good and Confessions of a Shopaholic – crap. Wow. That’s like, “Wow! You’re cynical!”
And no, I don’t think that it’s opinionated, it’s cynical. *nods all round from the people in the Zen Project*
To clarify and reinforce what I think from a discussion we had last night, I still feel that a singer is not a profession you can work at, unless it’s in the classical field. Things are too much of a fluke in pop singing and the perimeters too blur (singer-actor-songwriter???) too transient to have a standard, ‘proper’ definition of a good singer from a celebrity or otherwise.
A century ago, if you were born poor in China and had a good voice (or possibly just potentially good), your parents may sell you to a Chinese opera troupe. Day after day, without a choice, you assiduously practice singing and other stage moves. It’s hard work, it’s painful and it’s forced. If you’re good, perhaps you are born nimble, you improve faster than everyone else but it doesn’t mean that you have an easier time because training is still mandatory. Everybody puts in blood sweat and tears. Rebellion and sloth leads to caning or possibly tortures much worse but you manage to hone your craft and for better or worse, you acquire a skill, an art. In our modern terms, we’d call you an artist. (In the olden days, I’m afraid you may still be very much ostracized.)
In pop singing now, there’s editing when you record a CD, lip-synching if you can’t manage live and singers who do both shamelessly, get credit for being good. Now isn’t that atrocious! It’s an irony! It’s almost as if you sing well just to achieve a sort of self satisfaction because neither merit nor credit comes through vocal prowess. Skilful vocals don't seem to matter anymore. It has become the world of marketing and good looks. Not solely but predominantly.
Seriously, if F4 were born in the olden days with nary a skill on hand, they would not join a troupe and become leading celebrities of that time. They would be sold to brothels.
Besides good-lookers who pass off as singers, there’s the singer-songwriter who is, now more than ever, considered much more credible than just plainly a singer. Why should it be this way? If one writes good songs, then one writes them and let singers sing them. But they do a good job too you say! (Editing!!!) You say they emote simply, plainly and it appeals. It’s very elusive. Ahh yes, it must be the X-factor at work again. The X-factor is so overrated. X-factor cannot sing! X-factor can only make your heart palpitate 100x faster!
Love the singer-songwriters anyway, because take a good look around, not many singers who can sing. At least they can write! That’s where their warped credibility as singers comes from.
What is pop music? Pop music is music that appeals to the masses. It’s what the people like.
What is a good pop singer then? It should be someone whose singing can effectively appeal to most people.
Seems now it’s more likely to be someone who can appeal to people, and sings too by the way! I dread to think it that way.
You see, that’s the thing with pop. Good singing does not equate to appealing singing. Yet bad singing by a charismatic character can appeal to the layman.
It’s all a mater of how you pitch someone into the limelight and make them a celebrity. This of course is not new; everyone knows it and buys it, which is why I say you cannot work hard to become a singer as a profession. (You can work hard to be good at singing pop, that you can.) Because the hard work required is no longer singing, it’s preening your self, or cultivating the X-factor (and God knows how we do that?) Better yet, you pay a good team to market you! Pop singing is no longer an art for the singers but only for the producers, music engineers working behind the scenes. (So love those people instead.)
I guess there has always been an element of fluff perpetuated in pop, but it’s now more evident than ever. Sad but true.
And no, I don’t think that it’s opinionated, it’s cynical. *nods all round from the people in the Zen Project*
To clarify and reinforce what I think from a discussion we had last night, I still feel that a singer is not a profession you can work at, unless it’s in the classical field. Things are too much of a fluke in pop singing and the perimeters too blur (singer-actor-songwriter???) too transient to have a standard, ‘proper’ definition of a good singer from a celebrity or otherwise.
A century ago, if you were born poor in China and had a good voice (or possibly just potentially good), your parents may sell you to a Chinese opera troupe. Day after day, without a choice, you assiduously practice singing and other stage moves. It’s hard work, it’s painful and it’s forced. If you’re good, perhaps you are born nimble, you improve faster than everyone else but it doesn’t mean that you have an easier time because training is still mandatory. Everybody puts in blood sweat and tears. Rebellion and sloth leads to caning or possibly tortures much worse but you manage to hone your craft and for better or worse, you acquire a skill, an art. In our modern terms, we’d call you an artist. (In the olden days, I’m afraid you may still be very much ostracized.)
In pop singing now, there’s editing when you record a CD, lip-synching if you can’t manage live and singers who do both shamelessly, get credit for being good. Now isn’t that atrocious! It’s an irony! It’s almost as if you sing well just to achieve a sort of self satisfaction because neither merit nor credit comes through vocal prowess. Skilful vocals don't seem to matter anymore. It has become the world of marketing and good looks. Not solely but predominantly.
Seriously, if F4 were born in the olden days with nary a skill on hand, they would not join a troupe and become leading celebrities of that time. They would be sold to brothels.
Besides good-lookers who pass off as singers, there’s the singer-songwriter who is, now more than ever, considered much more credible than just plainly a singer. Why should it be this way? If one writes good songs, then one writes them and let singers sing them. But they do a good job too you say! (Editing!!!) You say they emote simply, plainly and it appeals. It’s very elusive. Ahh yes, it must be the X-factor at work again. The X-factor is so overrated. X-factor cannot sing! X-factor can only make your heart palpitate 100x faster!
Love the singer-songwriters anyway, because take a good look around, not many singers who can sing. At least they can write! That’s where their warped credibility as singers comes from.
What is pop music? Pop music is music that appeals to the masses. It’s what the people like.
What is a good pop singer then? It should be someone whose singing can effectively appeal to most people.
Seems now it’s more likely to be someone who can appeal to people, and sings too by the way! I dread to think it that way.
You see, that’s the thing with pop. Good singing does not equate to appealing singing. Yet bad singing by a charismatic character can appeal to the layman.
It’s all a mater of how you pitch someone into the limelight and make them a celebrity. This of course is not new; everyone knows it and buys it, which is why I say you cannot work hard to become a singer as a profession. (You can work hard to be good at singing pop, that you can.) Because the hard work required is no longer singing, it’s preening your self, or cultivating the X-factor (and God knows how we do that?) Better yet, you pay a good team to market you! Pop singing is no longer an art for the singers but only for the producers, music engineers working behind the scenes. (So love those people instead.)
I guess there has always been an element of fluff perpetuated in pop, but it’s now more evident than ever. Sad but true.
I have no energy whatsoever to think of something intelligent to blog today (the previous post was intelligent, eh?). Therefore, I shall just report that my GRE was OK. I got what I deserve, as usual. You reap what you sow, don’t you?
The mood is not too morose, so it’s alright! I'm relieved, in fact.
Check out my mood though, I’m SLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!
To prevent myself from degrading into a groveling groupie, I shall shut up and not elaborate on SLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!! Although I assume you people know SLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY and therefore already think that I’m a sniveling idiot! (you too JY, you too!)
For the record, I love JAY (the most)!!!
我投入！
(Ming, this is for you!)
The mood is not too morose, so it’s alright! I'm relieved, in fact.
Check out my mood though, I’m SLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!
To prevent myself from degrading into a groveling groupie, I shall shut up and not elaborate on SLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!! Although I assume you people know SLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY and therefore already think that I’m a sniveling idiot! (you too JY, you too!)
For the record, I love JAY (the most)!!!
我投入！
(Ming, this is for you!)
Sunday, 7 November 2004
Come on. Put your finger on the little, cute circle there >>>> O
Hold it there!
HOLD IT!
Hold it... … Hold it… …
hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it...
Just a sec more… …
Great! Done!
You’ve just absorbed all my negative energy! Yay!!! Now I’m gonna do bloody well for my GRE! Yay!!! YAYEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
YAY! YAY! YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
Hold it there!
HOLD IT!
Hold it... … Hold it… …
hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it...
Just a sec more… …
Great! Done!
You’ve just absorbed all my negative energy! Yay!!! Now I’m gonna do bloody well for my GRE! Yay!!! YAYEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
YAY! YAY! YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
YAY!
Thursday, 4 November 2004
I was reading Xiaxue's blog and i've to agree with Su, she's FUNNY!! Harhar!! Very ENTERTAINING. But the poor gal gets loads of flak from readers. Think they are damn lame lah. It's her blog. She can write wat she wants. If wat she writes doesn't appeal, then DON'T READ. Simple as that. It's not like she's offensive. She pokes fun at others, but she doesn't spare herself too. For those curious bout her blog, i've attached a link to her site. Check it out!!
Su!! Think we should threaten to dis-own our friends who don't read our blog....... :-P Anyway, someone suggested that we use a different colour for our posts. I'll choose mine first then. Change them all when you have time.
Su!! Think we should threaten to dis-own our friends who don't read our blog....... :-P Anyway, someone suggested that we use a different colour for our posts. I'll choose mine first then. Change them all when you have time.
KT on Oct
It looks like I'm gonna be a super enthu blogger for like... 2 seconds before I fizzle out and die away. (must be because I'm supposed to be studying)
I'm back for now.
The weather is, as with year end weather in Singapore, rainy. And whenever it comes to this, I remember Kelvin Tong. Tong is an ex-ST columnist. His writing always kept me in rapture. Myself, and a certain other friend who wanted to marry him. *snigger* I supposed that was because he looked cute in the icon-sized picture that truly belied his older and less-cute self. (What am I talking about?) Anyhow, he is a man of substance.
I remember Tong especially vividly now, because he once wrote a poignant column about October and the monsoon season. Although it is November, the rain still comes and I still think of his writing. In the midst of recalling, I dug it up, the article. I've had a habit of hoarding interesting news article since I started working.
The gist of it says that October now is not October then, while the rain was just mindless fun, it now represents the passing of time and reminds us of the responsibilities that come with age. We used to walk in the rain, now we scuttle from shelter to shelter.
Whether we like it or not, here's the rainy season and how things have changed.
Halloween was 4 days ago. Last year Halloween, I was in Malaysia covering Mahatir's step-down. Has it been a year already?
Date: Halloween night 2003
Time: 2200 hrs
Location: Nikko Hotel, KL
Status: Alone
I always sleep with the T.V. on when I'm alone in a hotel room. That night, Nikko had some really bad channels (read: news channels) and I decided to give Star World and another movie channel a chance to fight for my liking. None was good. Eerie trailers of horror movies kept coming up one after another. I seriously felt spooked and had a bad night's sleep. Fortunately, we returned home the next day. That was the first time I felt haunted in a hotel room. That is also why I think I will always be reminded of Mahatir this time of the year, every year from now.
When I saw that freaky Halloween trailer again this year, it struck me how 365 days had tapped me on the shoulder and while I looked back, swept soundlessly past me. It is not that nothing had been done. Too many things had happened. Many things accomplished. I did have some laughter and some tears. It is not time wasted nor am I unsatisfied. Perhaps it's just growing that bit older. It magnifies my memories yet diminishes their importance.
I was flipping through my diary and saw my 2004 resolutions. I didn't disappoint myself. I did manage some of them. It's almost time for another set.
Sometimes, the most melancholic thing is simply nothing. It's simply just going on.
Wednesday, 3 November 2004
I’m counting down 5 days to GRE... scary wary man…
Even though The Exam is coming, singing classes every Wednesday is still mandatory for me. This evening, I braved cramps to be there for our first ever studio lesson. Studio lessons literally mean we have our lessons in a recording studio. Ooh, interesting eh?
Our teacher, the very remarkable Wu Jia Ming, said he categorizes singers into ‘live’ and ‘recording’ singers. The labels speak for the singers as to which area they excel in. I’ve always secretly hoped I’m a ‘live’ singer cause there seems to be more substance to singing ‘live’ than recording in some crummy ol’ studio, don’t you think? That said, I had-a-feeling (as I always say) that I’m more of a ‘recording’ type. After all, nuance is my strength. Not power.
Today, I realize that I’m NEITHER*. Ha!
Obi, obi…
This is to punish me for belittling ‘recording’ singers.
You think it’s easy, eh? You try this! Then this! Try not breathing! Don’t lick your lips! Don’t swallow! Betcha can’t do that!
Rules, Rules, Rules.
I’d turn purple before I can do the song properly! It’s all about technique people!!! And technique = Gong Fu = hard work = time & effort!!!
Seriously, at first I thought it was all talk. Maybe I had the touch, you know? So, daunted but with the fire still ablaze in me, I came home to practice. Then, it dawned on me. (Refer to *)
Never mind kids! There’s still hope! Where there’s a will, there’s a way! We can always work harder! Sign me up for K-Box membership now!
Here’s something for me to learn today. Nothing comes for free. Don’t even think about 不劳而获. Think of 先苦后甜. It’s a sure win formula. So from now until next week when I have to record for my singing exam, I’m working hard! (And for all other exams too... hehheh)
That said, I still pray to become an overnight prodigy! *easy way out, easy way out*
Guys Like That You're CharmingYou're the girl most guys can't get out of their heads Even if they met you on a bad hair day :-) You just seem to "click" with everyone you meet So even if a guy forgets about you for a second... his friends haven't! What Do Guys Like About You? Take This Quiz :-) |
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You Are Fall!Thoughtful
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Your Power Color Is BlueRelationships and feelngs are the most important things to you.You are empathetic and accepting - and good at avoiding conflict. If someone close to you is in pain, it makes you hurt as well. You try to heal the ones you love with your kind and open heart. What's Your Power Color? Take This Quiz :-) Find the Love of Your Life (and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance. |
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Tuesday, 2 November 2004
5 Cups
Testing out the photo-posting.
Look at my lovely Tarot.
I got this card when I asked about my impending GRE...
It's BBAAAAADDD!!! AHHH!!!
Maybe it's asking me to study harder... or to dun bother anymore since it's gonna be bad anyway! Hehhehheh...
Ok, ok! I'm studying, I'm studying...
Look at my lovely Tarot.
I got this card when I asked about my impending GRE...
It's BBAAAAADDD!!! AHHH!!!
Maybe it's asking me to study harder... or to dun bother anymore since it's gonna be bad anyway! Hehhehheh...
Ok, ok! I'm studying, I'm studying...
Monday, 1 November 2004
Hey Wenhao! When did you have Haagen Dazs fondue???
I want it~! I want it~!
Anyway, back at my studying desk for one day and out comes my alter-ego The Zombie at Home. I feel sick of studying although I haven't done much of it... I've been playing this stupid game, christened 'Circle the Fishes' by me! Basically, you try to circle fishes of the same colour and if you manage, you move on to the next stage to circle more fishes!!! It's a lose-lose situation game whereby you only move on to the next stage... I don't think there's ever a win there. Sick.
http://www.ferryhalim.com/orisinal/g3/floats.htm
Ooh... I got a spanking new com! Yay! But so what? I have to study... Boo...
Anyway, some technical speak with Wenhao:
Troubleshooting
Q: Why am I still unable to send pictures to the blog using MMS*?
(MMS: Multi-Media Messaging Service)
In accordance with my zeal for life, I went to the gym today in hope for a healthier lifestyle and consequently, longevity. Then I came home, then I had dinner, then I bathed, then I played Circle the Fishes, then I blog, then it's now.
Was wondering if you can judge kids as you judge adults? Can we impose the same standards on them? It's ok for an adult to steal a biscuit from a jar, but not a kid. It's ok for a kid to bawl in a restaurant but not an adult.
Below is solely my humble impression from the little of what I've heard about Christian beliefs. If an adult does not believe in God, he will go to hell when he dies. If a kid does not believe in God, he goes where when he dies? If the kid is 2 and knows nothing, he goes to heaven. If the kid is 8 & somewhat knows some things, he goes to hell? Isn't that a little too difficult to accept? Where is poor Huang Na now then? Hopefully queuing up for reincarnation then.
Oh, I do lack the faith. Perhaps I'm too embroiled in the secular world to see from the eyes of the Eternal.
Back to studying.
I want it~! I want it~!
Anyway, back at my studying desk for one day and out comes my alter-ego The Zombie at Home. I feel sick of studying although I haven't done much of it... I've been playing this stupid game, christened 'Circle the Fishes' by me! Basically, you try to circle fishes of the same colour and if you manage, you move on to the next stage to circle more fishes!!! It's a lose-lose situation game whereby you only move on to the next stage... I don't think there's ever a win there. Sick.
http://www.ferryhalim.com/orisinal/g3/floats.htm
Ooh... I got a spanking new com! Yay! But so what? I have to study... Boo...
Anyway, some technical speak with Wenhao:
Troubleshooting
Q: Why am I still unable to send pictures to the blog using MMS*?
(MMS: Multi-Media Messaging Service)
In accordance with my zeal for life, I went to the gym today in hope for a healthier lifestyle and consequently, longevity. Then I came home, then I had dinner, then I bathed, then I played Circle the Fishes, then I blog, then it's now.
Was wondering if you can judge kids as you judge adults? Can we impose the same standards on them? It's ok for an adult to steal a biscuit from a jar, but not a kid. It's ok for a kid to bawl in a restaurant but not an adult.
Below is solely my humble impression from the little of what I've heard about Christian beliefs. If an adult does not believe in God, he will go to hell when he dies. If a kid does not believe in God, he goes where when he dies? If the kid is 2 and knows nothing, he goes to heaven. If the kid is 8 & somewhat knows some things, he goes to hell? Isn't that a little too difficult to accept? Where is poor Huang Na now then? Hopefully queuing up for reincarnation then.
Oh, I do lack the faith. Perhaps I'm too embroiled in the secular world to see from the eyes of the Eternal.
Back to studying.
Fondue
Had fondue at Haagan Daz today. Was freezing cold after as it was pouring in town. But it was worth it. YUMMY!!
RECEIVED MY FIRST EVER WEDDING INVITE!! Congrats to Kei!!
Though not many people attended the gathering yesterday, it was good. For me at least. Jane probably felt disappointed as she put in alot of effort to plan it. *hugs* Realised that though we now have different gaols and concepts of wat makes us happy, we are still the same gals inside from Sec 4 Charity.
Though not many people attended the gathering yesterday, it was good. For me at least. Jane probably felt disappointed as she put in alot of effort to plan it. *hugs* Realised that though we now have different gaols and concepts of wat makes us happy, we are still the same gals inside from Sec 4 Charity.
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