Backdated post: written 26/9, 4:24AM

What is the difference between learning and studying? Is there a stark difference between the two really? Admittedly, I do not have oodles of time to ponder how likey the two may differ, but it was just a thought that struck me a couple of days back as I was stoically trashing through my revision. Perhaps it seems like a rather trifle thought, as afterall, they are merely terms. And terminology often does not account greatly for the actual substance of things.

Nonetheless, it seems like a very interesting school of thought to me. I guess personally I would choose to think of learning as developing a passion for acquiring new knowledge and skills. While studying, maybe more the process of achieving the results of learning. I remember reading the definition of both terms a few days back, though only remnants of the latter's stuck with me, so as much as I can recall as of now – studying: the devotion of time and attention to a particular field (or something along that line). If so, how does studying differ from mugging, as students these days choose to call it? The act of mechanically cramming information into our minds without much consideration. Then again, we probably do not harbour much capacity left of 'consider', taking into account the amount of memory space dedicated to "cramming". Excess thought would only obstruct the efficient process of cramming information, won't it? Congestion, blockage, mental block.

It almost seems like force-feeding to me; as long as that brain-food gets down your throat somehow and remain there for a considerable length of time, just enough to aid you through the Paper, you are poised for success. What utter load of bullshit.

Then again, I guess if that is the way society envisions learning – simply absorbing facts and concepts absurdly like a thoughtless sponge – then maybe it will, indeed, work. Afterall, if the world thinks it, anything goes. I like to think. Yes I do, I like to think. It is really queer, and it does not seem to get me anywhere, more often than not. But somehow I do favour thought process; it unlocks new ideas and expands your mental boundaries unknowingly. It does result in me overthinking things sometimes too though. Yet its frustrating how I detest thinking excessively about the things that I ought to be dwelling over – logarithms, particular nature of particles, formation of landforms, acids and salts, graphs... The list is inexhaustible.

Perhaps that explains why I enjoy taking humanities subjects more – I really am gratified for such subjects, like social studies and literature, which encourages thought. I mean, of course there is the memorising of background information for these subjects as well, which is also an unavoidable onerous task, but I think I can handle that. Humanities. Small reminders of our form in an advancing highly-technological world – humans. Yes, so I like these subjects even though my grades are not particularly stellar.

So, should thought process not be promoted over brainless memorising? How much does a student truly profit from memorising text wholesale and regurgitating? As much as I loathe it, at the end of the day, past all the ranting and complaining, I still do what is expected: conforming and memorising.

If I had it my way, the choice to decide, I will want to spend my time growing my passion for learning instead. Growing it like a plant. I will put all my attention and energy into cultivating that passion, watching every bud blossom with every season change. I will grow it so vast, it exceeds its basic purpose of providing sustenance. For the fruits of passionate learning will be – is – a delicacy. It is a privilege. An indulge that we have grown to forbid ourselves from enjoying.

But will I ever get a chance to grow that passion? Perhaps one fine day when living up to academic expectations and surviving financially independently are no longer burning priorities. Perhaps one fine day after I retire, if that day ever comes. I will then dedicate my late years to developing that passion for learning. I shall.

But maybe, even if that day does come, and I finally reap the fulfilling rewards of my yield, life will still surreptitiously steal the sweet joy away from me. Imagine, when I finally do get that fruit: biting deep into the succulent flesh of the fruit of my labour, the tangible taste on the palate, the tender texture of happiness; but then, my teeth will eventually strike the dry hard seed of reality below. And all that will remain is a slippery memory of the tongue's delight.
(this paragraph just can't seem to carry off without sounding wrong)

Even so, I await the day I reach that knowledge-infused Nirvana, one where learning is boundless and expectations are zilch. The freedom to learn as you wish, as you please, as you want is – just so out of reach. A reserved right. A right currently so entirely out of my league. So I do await the day. But yet if it truly does not come eventually, maybe I will succumb to mental obsoleteness instead. It is, really, that tough to fight for such a fantasied world. Realism is the killer of bliss. Is that why some people live with the desire to go to heaven someday? To live to see it once, and never return to tell the tale.

But if I could, I would.

Backdated post: written around 28/9 or so.

Start of vague recount: I remember when I was primary 3. There was a day where we got back a Chinese test. Those were the days where scoring full marls was no sweat off your brow. I remember feeling slightly dejected having bagged only a 45/50 amongst the countless perfect scores around me. How incredulous now to think of it! I remember the teacher asked to see me after class. Apparently what happened was, there was a question where my solution differed from the one she said when going through the paper. So technically my answer was 'wrong', hence eliciting the idea that I did not declare my incorrect answer in fear that I will lose more marks. Just to clarify, honestly at the age of 9, that was totally not my intent. I was just stoning, and had ignored her explanations for questions that I was marked right. I remember the teacher eventually told me that question had multiple solutions, and I was indeed right afterall. But what she said to me afterwards, somehow stuck with me till this day.

She said, peiwen you are bright, you should know results aren't everything. I know you want to excel, everyone wants to. But there is no need to exceedingly compete at all costs to win. There is more to life than this. And I know you have the makes in you to do more, to lead. I believe you can even make it to being the head prefect one day. 

Well that is generally a retold version of her intents. No, I never got on to being any great leader, much less the head prefect. But the gist of her words has lingered at the back of my mind all these years. It is probably the only time in my life anyone has ever truly shown me and said to my face that results and grades in particular are not everything. That the passion to learn and the actual act of learning is instead more crucial. It was also one of times where I felt, someone actually believed in me and saw my potential. Though I never received enough motivations to fulfil the faiths she had it me, it did instil a sense of hope, so to speak. Very rarely is something able to make me feel i am destined for greatness. When I was young, I did believe so. I dreamt the world was mine to take and that anything is possible. And what happened. My ardent embrace of the axiom impossible is nothing slowly began to water down by the thoughts that not everyone can win when there is only one 'first place'. 

Passion for learning. One thing I have discovered I have grown to love is the Chinese language. Since young, I always found it exceedingly tough to grasp Chinese. I loathed it, just because I could not perfect it. Not that I am nearing perfection in the language in any sense, but I am beginning to enjoy learning it. I suspect it was preparing for Chinese o level Oral's that sparked my interest. I am very fortunate to get a very supportive Chinese teacher this year. The process of prepping for that exam felt more of exploring the grounds of mandarin, rather than pure memorizing. I guess the consumption of copious amounts of Chinese text kind of helped.

Backdated Post: sometime last week (25/9 there about)

The world is ugly. Truly, is that so? She wondered. It was something she pondered over so often; it burned in her mind like a fervid flame, so often, scorching her thoughts mercilessly, spreading uncontrollably. It seemed to reduce every spurt of hope left in her completely, leaving it all as pathetic disintegrated ashes.

The world is ugly. She repeated. Almost to reassure herself of its ubiquitous presence, eradicating all doubts of its existence. Indeed, she knew she was not worry. She could not be. The world is horrifyingly disgusting; flawed, blemished, grotesque. The nature of the world is like a detestable slug, constantly rearing its head; revealed through the terrible actions of beings that inhabit the world. Man kind is the epitome of ugliness, she spat, quaking inwardly at the thought.

The world is ugly. Perfection – the key that drives it all. It was inevitable; perfection did not favour the average human. The word average already proves the point. In fact, the harder one strove for perfection and divinity, the uglier they appeared; evolving into even more hideous creatures as they continue their lifelong conquest for the forbidden fruit. Never truly able to quench that unsatisfiable desire for what they deemed to be greatness.

The world is ugly. We live in an elitist society. Even if we deny it so. It is true on so many levels. Attempts to avoid it have been foiled repeatedly, and will continue to be. We are fuelled by the intense hankering for superiority. In a society like this, there is no where but higher and greater to head. There is no other route, no other way.

The world is ugly. There will always been someone better than you. But those who refuse to succumb to this fervours race, will be eliminated instantaneously. Never will they be given a change to protest. Once you slip off the board, you have to work doubly, triply, hard to get back up. Only with the willingness to sacrifice all to step up your game once again, will you reach anywhere near the chance of being re-induced into the arena.

Such a negative post.

Have been very compelled to write and post lately, because somehow am in a very 'wordy' mood, fresh after the free writing essay paper on Friday. But time constrain has largely prevented me from doing so. Coupled with mental fatigue and high work load in general, I have assignments piled up till my eye lashes! More so, I have an unnecessarily huge load of revision to plough through, unprecedented amounts of text to devour and a frighteningly huge number of concepts to grasp. The mere thought of it all makes me shudder. Yes, I am becoming increasingly desperate right now, with exams coming straight at me at an alarming pace, head on.

As they say, time is of the essence. Deadlines are burning at my heels – truly dead, lines indeed. This all seemingly feels like a death sentence, lurking so close in sight, so threatening; and yet disturbingly so unavoidable. It brings a sense of unwarranted fear and worry to me. The insidious effects of stress are being to grate on me. Definitely not a positive sign, but I feel completely hapless and helpless towards my current plight, if I can put it that way.

It is like wandering around wholly unfamiliar grounds, some place you are entirely unaccustomed to. And you are expected to reach a destination, accomplish a task, find an item, hide from a predator, slaughter an enemy. You are expected to survive, to fight. It is all like a show, you are being watched, but no one is going to aid you. No one has the true ability to. Alone, you have only you and yourself to rely on.

It is like running; just running and running in no particular direction, with no particular aim in mind. Though you are expected to get somewhere. It is as though you are trapped in a dense, dark, dank labyrinth. The idea seems somewhat claustrophobic, but I guess it depicts the image I want to portray well. Running through a labyrinth. And just throw in the idea of someone hunting you, coming after you, trying to capture you. That intense fear that courses through your system, manifesting in your heart and spreading to your limbs and up your neck. And to aggravate the problem, you are completely ignorant to what is after you. You have no clue what it is, you just know you have to run. At the cusp of panic, you just do.

It is all so surreal, as though you are moving underwater, with every action moving to no distinct end. And most of all, that sense of oblivion to your surroundings is practically burning in you, burning your mind. You just feel so so lost, like a city-dweller thrown into the woods or a poverty-stricken vagabond in Manhattan. This vexatious situation is something I feel so trapped in. Confined, locked up, bounded to.

Everyone wants an unassailable start to life; a good education, stellar academic track record, inexhaustible line of achievements, admirable qualifications, a million of recommendations by mentors and fraternity to potential employers. And that resume you construct and the certificates and degrees you hold at the end of the day will be your infallible weapons, the only things you have to defend yourself against the overly-competitive community that awaits you outside the school gates. This constant hankering for academic flawlessness and superiority is indeed a societal stigma, something so greatly entrenched unknowingly in the minds and beliefs of people. It has transformed to be an innate mentality, ingrained and inscribed so deeply it almost appears irreversible. Perhaps it is a Singaporean thing. There will always be competition everywhere too.

Perhaps this is the caste system of the 21st century, for students and otherwise: a hierarchy determined by academic qualifications – the product of the result-driven society that competitive individuals have brought into being, dragging everyone else along as well. There is no escape. What talk about cultivating talent, and building character, and venturing the roads less trodden. What talk about diversifying – diversifying yes, lest firmly rooted to the rigid education system nonetheless. Much less with foreign imports that we welcome so endearingly with open arms and feign gratification.

But what do I know? At the end of the day, nothing. If I walk out of the school right now and out of this system I am tightly-bounded to, I know nothing. I am merely ingesting whatever I am told to, regurgitating whatever you want me to, and barely retaining anything else – be it beneficial or not. At the end of the day, education has changed me, most definitely. But how much am I truly reaping from it? Ten years down the road how much will I actually know about the things I am struggling to memorise and understand?

It is all talk. Just inane chatter and talk. But yes again, what do I know. All I do is babble on endlessly about nothing. Sometimes I wish I could just talk on and on all day to myself. But we have created a society where it is acceptable to shun and alienate things that are not seen to be mainstream, deemed to be weird; and talking to yourself definitely ranks appropriately high on that list. So yes, no talking to yourself. No talking. When all people do all day is talk. Cheap talk. That robs you of innocent joy and gets you nowhere.

Sings to the tune of STAY WITH ME, into the woods:
Someone save me this is tough as hell
Someone help me pass this bloody trial
Who out there? Who out there?
Who out there can save me from this pain?
Who out there can stop me from going insane?
Save me please.

Math is such a freakin pain in ass
I must pass this motherfuckin test
I need a rest. Must give my best.
Must do well. Or I'll burn in hell.
Save me please. Save me please this shit is killing me.
This is hard oh can't you bloody see?

Help me please I can't do math at all
Death awaits me in the exam hall
Help me please. Or I will faint.
Anyone, maybe perhaps a saint?
Save me please.
Don't you know what this looks like to moi?
Must be either greek or tamil la!

What the hell. What the hell.
Someone please just save me from my plight.
Why can't I just drop all and take flight?
Fuck exams, they give me such a fright.
Damn you all please just go and fly kites.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god I'm really wasting time.
Oh my god I cant believe this rhymes.
I'm so smart. I'm so smart yet there's still a goddamned BUT.
I'm so smart but math is way too hard.

----------

I CANT DO THE DUMB END OF YEAR 08/09 AMATHS PAPERS AT ALL. I CAN ONLY DO LIKE TWO QUESTIONS FROM EACH! dooooooooomed alright. yes lets all sing the above song once again... STUDY WITH MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
(sondheim i love you yes)

Teachers' Day. Teaching is definitely amongst one of the toughest professions ever. I know it is not easy to deal with a humungous bunch of screaming rebellious children, much less disinterested apathetic teenagers. I truly appreciate what each and every teacher has done for all their students, and for me. I really admire their tolerance and patience and dedication to their work. I am very grateful for the effort and time they put into to groom someone else's child, trying their hardest to make each and every pupil shine. Though I know I have never thanked my teachers enough, neither could I ever fully thank them the way I should, but I sincerely appreciate their contributions and hard work. Kudos to teachers all around the world!

-----------------

On this special day, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, Mrs Chua. There is so much I have to say (yes, whats new!), and yet there is also so much I have never said to you.

As cliche as it sounds, time flies! In a blink of an eye, we are already midway through 2011. I remember when we first met you at the start of the year: During the first geog lesson, you came into class and went straight to the point of putting your expectations straight on the table. I still remember you telling the class that we could call you whatever we want behind your back, you did not care, as long as we achieve those A1s. I also remember you calling me a FILI FALA girl because I didn't know about the earthquake occurrences in Christchurch. (HAHAHA)

You always had very high expectations for your classes. I remember in semester 1, whenever our work was not up to standard, or whenever we forgot to bring our notes/textbook, you would make us stand. As a result, almost every lesson majority of the class was punished to stand. Just like many others, I used to get very annoyed with you because of this, and even ranting endlessly about how you were a terribly fierce and scary teacher and detesting your classes. Thinking back now, though I never realised it, you taught me to be more disciplined, to be more responsible and to take pride in my work. Surprisingly, that fear I had of falling short of your expectations and being punished yet again made me step up my game, and to put in a lot more effort in my work.

Over time, I did come to see that you are actually a lovely teacher. Behind that possible ferocious facade, you were also a very fun and interesting person. You always have funny anecdotes to relate and somehow there was always an added element of fun in your lessons. I began to enjoy your lessons and in turn, upkeeping the quality of my work too. So from doing my work out of 'fear', I slowly started to like geography. I didn't use to like the subject, in fact i loathed it! But I guess over time its beginning to grow on me and I enjoy taking your class.

I sincerely thank you for the dedication you put in to every lesson and the patience you display in enduring my nonsense. I know I am not the most cooperative or disciplined student and I know I constantly disrupt lessons with my incessant chatter and laughter. So i'm sorry and thanks so much for being so tolerant. Thank you very much for all you have done for your students and the class. I greatly appreciate it.

Happy teachers' day to you!

-------------------------

I turned the corner, and there you were. It was fate, as though it was just meant to be. You smiled. With arms spread open, beckoning to me. I approached you. You threw your arms around my neck. Instinctively, I did the same. And though unspoken, there was a sense of mutual acknowledgement somehow. We just stood there for a moment. For that moment the world and time seemed to freeze and only you mattered. A nice, long, warm hug. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Its hard to place a finger on what, but there was a feeling of familiarity – as though meeting an old friend. I began to choke up a little, I dont know why! But that sense of reciprocal appreciation and affection was practically priceless. It is interesting how things change, interpersonal relations. It is really so elusive; I doubt I would ever begin to comprehend its full virtues.  Truly, it is almost unimaginable we have changed from two people who didn't get along, to that precious moment of today.

And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness, for the things I've done you blamed me for. But then I guess we know there's blame to share, and none of this seems to matter anymore... Who can say if I've been changed for the better, but because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

Backdated post: written 26/9, 4:24AM

What is the difference between learning and studying? Is there a stark difference between the two really? Admittedly, I do not have oodles of time to ponder how likey the two may differ, but it was just a thought that struck me a couple of days back as I was stoically trashing through my revision. Perhaps it seems like a rather trifle thought, as afterall, they are merely terms. And terminology often does not account greatly for the actual substance of things.

Nonetheless, it seems like a very interesting school of thought to me. I guess personally I would choose to think of learning as developing a passion for acquiring new knowledge and skills. While studying, maybe more the process of achieving the results of learning. I remember reading the definition of both terms a few days back, though only remnants of the latter's stuck with me, so as much as I can recall as of now – studying: the devotion of time and attention to a particular field (or something along that line). If so, how does studying differ from mugging, as students these days choose to call it? The act of mechanically cramming information into our minds without much consideration. Then again, we probably do not harbour much capacity left of 'consider', taking into account the amount of memory space dedicated to "cramming". Excess thought would only obstruct the efficient process of cramming information, won't it? Congestion, blockage, mental block.

It almost seems like force-feeding to me; as long as that brain-food gets down your throat somehow and remain there for a considerable length of time, just enough to aid you through the Paper, you are poised for success. What utter load of bullshit.

Then again, I guess if that is the way society envisions learning – simply absorbing facts and concepts absurdly like a thoughtless sponge – then maybe it will, indeed, work. Afterall, if the world thinks it, anything goes. I like to think. Yes I do, I like to think. It is really queer, and it does not seem to get me anywhere, more often than not. But somehow I do favour thought process; it unlocks new ideas and expands your mental boundaries unknowingly. It does result in me overthinking things sometimes too though. Yet its frustrating how I detest thinking excessively about the things that I ought to be dwelling over – logarithms, particular nature of particles, formation of landforms, acids and salts, graphs... The list is inexhaustible.

Perhaps that explains why I enjoy taking humanities subjects more – I really am gratified for such subjects, like social studies and literature, which encourages thought. I mean, of course there is the memorising of background information for these subjects as well, which is also an unavoidable onerous task, but I think I can handle that. Humanities. Small reminders of our form in an advancing highly-technological world – humans. Yes, so I like these subjects even though my grades are not particularly stellar.

So, should thought process not be promoted over brainless memorising? How much does a student truly profit from memorising text wholesale and regurgitating? As much as I loathe it, at the end of the day, past all the ranting and complaining, I still do what is expected: conforming and memorising.

If I had it my way, the choice to decide, I will want to spend my time growing my passion for learning instead. Growing it like a plant. I will put all my attention and energy into cultivating that passion, watching every bud blossom with every season change. I will grow it so vast, it exceeds its basic purpose of providing sustenance. For the fruits of passionate learning will be – is – a delicacy. It is a privilege. An indulge that we have grown to forbid ourselves from enjoying.

But will I ever get a chance to grow that passion? Perhaps one fine day when living up to academic expectations and surviving financially independently are no longer burning priorities. Perhaps one fine day after I retire, if that day ever comes. I will then dedicate my late years to developing that passion for learning. I shall.

But maybe, even if that day does come, and I finally reap the fulfilling rewards of my yield, life will still surreptitiously steal the sweet joy away from me. Imagine, when I finally do get that fruit: biting deep into the succulent flesh of the fruit of my labour, the tangible taste on the palate, the tender texture of happiness; but then, my teeth will eventually strike the dry hard seed of reality below. And all that will remain is a slippery memory of the tongue's delight.
(this paragraph just can't seem to carry off without sounding wrong)

Even so, I await the day I reach that knowledge-infused Nirvana, one where learning is boundless and expectations are zilch. The freedom to learn as you wish, as you please, as you want is – just so out of reach. A reserved right. A right currently so entirely out of my league. So I do await the day. But yet if it truly does not come eventually, maybe I will succumb to mental obsoleteness instead. It is, really, that tough to fight for such a fantasied world. Realism is the killer of bliss. Is that why some people live with the desire to go to heaven someday? To live to see it once, and never return to tell the tale.

But if I could, I would.

Backdated post: written around 28/9 or so.

Start of vague recount: I remember when I was primary 3. There was a day where we got back a Chinese test. Those were the days where scoring full marls was no sweat off your brow. I remember feeling slightly dejected having bagged only a 45/50 amongst the countless perfect scores around me. How incredulous now to think of it! I remember the teacher asked to see me after class. Apparently what happened was, there was a question where my solution differed from the one she said when going through the paper. So technically my answer was 'wrong', hence eliciting the idea that I did not declare my incorrect answer in fear that I will lose more marks. Just to clarify, honestly at the age of 9, that was totally not my intent. I was just stoning, and had ignored her explanations for questions that I was marked right. I remember the teacher eventually told me that question had multiple solutions, and I was indeed right afterall. But what she said to me afterwards, somehow stuck with me till this day.

She said, peiwen you are bright, you should know results aren't everything. I know you want to excel, everyone wants to. But there is no need to exceedingly compete at all costs to win. There is more to life than this. And I know you have the makes in you to do more, to lead. I believe you can even make it to being the head prefect one day. 

Well that is generally a retold version of her intents. No, I never got on to being any great leader, much less the head prefect. But the gist of her words has lingered at the back of my mind all these years. It is probably the only time in my life anyone has ever truly shown me and said to my face that results and grades in particular are not everything. That the passion to learn and the actual act of learning is instead more crucial. It was also one of times where I felt, someone actually believed in me and saw my potential. Though I never received enough motivations to fulfil the faiths she had it me, it did instil a sense of hope, so to speak. Very rarely is something able to make me feel i am destined for greatness. When I was young, I did believe so. I dreamt the world was mine to take and that anything is possible. And what happened. My ardent embrace of the axiom impossible is nothing slowly began to water down by the thoughts that not everyone can win when there is only one 'first place'. 

Passion for learning. One thing I have discovered I have grown to love is the Chinese language. Since young, I always found it exceedingly tough to grasp Chinese. I loathed it, just because I could not perfect it. Not that I am nearing perfection in the language in any sense, but I am beginning to enjoy learning it. I suspect it was preparing for Chinese o level Oral's that sparked my interest. I am very fortunate to get a very supportive Chinese teacher this year. The process of prepping for that exam felt more of exploring the grounds of mandarin, rather than pure memorizing. I guess the consumption of copious amounts of Chinese text kind of helped.

Backdated Post: sometime last week (25/9 there about)

The world is ugly. Truly, is that so? She wondered. It was something she pondered over so often; it burned in her mind like a fervid flame, so often, scorching her thoughts mercilessly, spreading uncontrollably. It seemed to reduce every spurt of hope left in her completely, leaving it all as pathetic disintegrated ashes.

The world is ugly. She repeated. Almost to reassure herself of its ubiquitous presence, eradicating all doubts of its existence. Indeed, she knew she was not worry. She could not be. The world is horrifyingly disgusting; flawed, blemished, grotesque. The nature of the world is like a detestable slug, constantly rearing its head; revealed through the terrible actions of beings that inhabit the world. Man kind is the epitome of ugliness, she spat, quaking inwardly at the thought.

The world is ugly. Perfection – the key that drives it all. It was inevitable; perfection did not favour the average human. The word average already proves the point. In fact, the harder one strove for perfection and divinity, the uglier they appeared; evolving into even more hideous creatures as they continue their lifelong conquest for the forbidden fruit. Never truly able to quench that unsatisfiable desire for what they deemed to be greatness.

The world is ugly. We live in an elitist society. Even if we deny it so. It is true on so many levels. Attempts to avoid it have been foiled repeatedly, and will continue to be. We are fuelled by the intense hankering for superiority. In a society like this, there is no where but higher and greater to head. There is no other route, no other way.

The world is ugly. There will always been someone better than you. But those who refuse to succumb to this fervours race, will be eliminated instantaneously. Never will they be given a change to protest. Once you slip off the board, you have to work doubly, triply, hard to get back up. Only with the willingness to sacrifice all to step up your game once again, will you reach anywhere near the chance of being re-induced into the arena.

Such a negative post.

Have been very compelled to write and post lately, because somehow am in a very 'wordy' mood, fresh after the free writing essay paper on Friday. But time constrain has largely prevented me from doing so. Coupled with mental fatigue and high work load in general, I have assignments piled up till my eye lashes! More so, I have an unnecessarily huge load of revision to plough through, unprecedented amounts of text to devour and a frighteningly huge number of concepts to grasp. The mere thought of it all makes me shudder. Yes, I am becoming increasingly desperate right now, with exams coming straight at me at an alarming pace, head on.

As they say, time is of the essence. Deadlines are burning at my heels – truly dead, lines indeed. This all seemingly feels like a death sentence, lurking so close in sight, so threatening; and yet disturbingly so unavoidable. It brings a sense of unwarranted fear and worry to me. The insidious effects of stress are being to grate on me. Definitely not a positive sign, but I feel completely hapless and helpless towards my current plight, if I can put it that way.

It is like wandering around wholly unfamiliar grounds, some place you are entirely unaccustomed to. And you are expected to reach a destination, accomplish a task, find an item, hide from a predator, slaughter an enemy. You are expected to survive, to fight. It is all like a show, you are being watched, but no one is going to aid you. No one has the true ability to. Alone, you have only you and yourself to rely on.

It is like running; just running and running in no particular direction, with no particular aim in mind. Though you are expected to get somewhere. It is as though you are trapped in a dense, dark, dank labyrinth. The idea seems somewhat claustrophobic, but I guess it depicts the image I want to portray well. Running through a labyrinth. And just throw in the idea of someone hunting you, coming after you, trying to capture you. That intense fear that courses through your system, manifesting in your heart and spreading to your limbs and up your neck. And to aggravate the problem, you are completely ignorant to what is after you. You have no clue what it is, you just know you have to run. At the cusp of panic, you just do.

It is all so surreal, as though you are moving underwater, with every action moving to no distinct end. And most of all, that sense of oblivion to your surroundings is practically burning in you, burning your mind. You just feel so so lost, like a city-dweller thrown into the woods or a poverty-stricken vagabond in Manhattan. This vexatious situation is something I feel so trapped in. Confined, locked up, bounded to.

Everyone wants an unassailable start to life; a good education, stellar academic track record, inexhaustible line of achievements, admirable qualifications, a million of recommendations by mentors and fraternity to potential employers. And that resume you construct and the certificates and degrees you hold at the end of the day will be your infallible weapons, the only things you have to defend yourself against the overly-competitive community that awaits you outside the school gates. This constant hankering for academic flawlessness and superiority is indeed a societal stigma, something so greatly entrenched unknowingly in the minds and beliefs of people. It has transformed to be an innate mentality, ingrained and inscribed so deeply it almost appears irreversible. Perhaps it is a Singaporean thing. There will always be competition everywhere too.

Perhaps this is the caste system of the 21st century, for students and otherwise: a hierarchy determined by academic qualifications – the product of the result-driven society that competitive individuals have brought into being, dragging everyone else along as well. There is no escape. What talk about cultivating talent, and building character, and venturing the roads less trodden. What talk about diversifying – diversifying yes, lest firmly rooted to the rigid education system nonetheless. Much less with foreign imports that we welcome so endearingly with open arms and feign gratification.

But what do I know? At the end of the day, nothing. If I walk out of the school right now and out of this system I am tightly-bounded to, I know nothing. I am merely ingesting whatever I am told to, regurgitating whatever you want me to, and barely retaining anything else – be it beneficial or not. At the end of the day, education has changed me, most definitely. But how much am I truly reaping from it? Ten years down the road how much will I actually know about the things I am struggling to memorise and understand?

It is all talk. Just inane chatter and talk. But yes again, what do I know. All I do is babble on endlessly about nothing. Sometimes I wish I could just talk on and on all day to myself. But we have created a society where it is acceptable to shun and alienate things that are not seen to be mainstream, deemed to be weird; and talking to yourself definitely ranks appropriately high on that list. So yes, no talking to yourself. No talking. When all people do all day is talk. Cheap talk. That robs you of innocent joy and gets you nowhere.

Sings to the tune of STAY WITH ME, into the woods:
Someone save me this is tough as hell
Someone help me pass this bloody trial
Who out there? Who out there?
Who out there can save me from this pain?
Who out there can stop me from going insane?
Save me please.

Math is such a freakin pain in ass
I must pass this motherfuckin test
I need a rest. Must give my best.
Must do well. Or I'll burn in hell.
Save me please. Save me please this shit is killing me.
This is hard oh can't you bloody see?

Help me please I can't do math at all
Death awaits me in the exam hall
Help me please. Or I will faint.
Anyone, maybe perhaps a saint?
Save me please.
Don't you know what this looks like to moi?
Must be either greek or tamil la!

What the hell. What the hell.
Someone please just save me from my plight.
Why can't I just drop all and take flight?
Fuck exams, they give me such a fright.
Damn you all please just go and fly kites.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god I'm really wasting time.
Oh my god I cant believe this rhymes.
I'm so smart. I'm so smart yet there's still a goddamned BUT.
I'm so smart but math is way too hard.

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I CANT DO THE DUMB END OF YEAR 08/09 AMATHS PAPERS AT ALL. I CAN ONLY DO LIKE TWO QUESTIONS FROM EACH! dooooooooomed alright. yes lets all sing the above song once again... STUDY WITH MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
(sondheim i love you yes)

Teachers' Day. Teaching is definitely amongst one of the toughest professions ever. I know it is not easy to deal with a humungous bunch of screaming rebellious children, much less disinterested apathetic teenagers. I truly appreciate what each and every teacher has done for all their students, and for me. I really admire their tolerance and patience and dedication to their work. I am very grateful for the effort and time they put into to groom someone else's child, trying their hardest to make each and every pupil shine. Though I know I have never thanked my teachers enough, neither could I ever fully thank them the way I should, but I sincerely appreciate their contributions and hard work. Kudos to teachers all around the world!

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On this special day, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, Mrs Chua. There is so much I have to say (yes, whats new!), and yet there is also so much I have never said to you.

As cliche as it sounds, time flies! In a blink of an eye, we are already midway through 2011. I remember when we first met you at the start of the year: During the first geog lesson, you came into class and went straight to the point of putting your expectations straight on the table. I still remember you telling the class that we could call you whatever we want behind your back, you did not care, as long as we achieve those A1s. I also remember you calling me a FILI FALA girl because I didn't know about the earthquake occurrences in Christchurch. (HAHAHA)

You always had very high expectations for your classes. I remember in semester 1, whenever our work was not up to standard, or whenever we forgot to bring our notes/textbook, you would make us stand. As a result, almost every lesson majority of the class was punished to stand. Just like many others, I used to get very annoyed with you because of this, and even ranting endlessly about how you were a terribly fierce and scary teacher and detesting your classes. Thinking back now, though I never realised it, you taught me to be more disciplined, to be more responsible and to take pride in my work. Surprisingly, that fear I had of falling short of your expectations and being punished yet again made me step up my game, and to put in a lot more effort in my work.

Over time, I did come to see that you are actually a lovely teacher. Behind that possible ferocious facade, you were also a very fun and interesting person. You always have funny anecdotes to relate and somehow there was always an added element of fun in your lessons. I began to enjoy your lessons and in turn, upkeeping the quality of my work too. So from doing my work out of 'fear', I slowly started to like geography. I didn't use to like the subject, in fact i loathed it! But I guess over time its beginning to grow on me and I enjoy taking your class.

I sincerely thank you for the dedication you put in to every lesson and the patience you display in enduring my nonsense. I know I am not the most cooperative or disciplined student and I know I constantly disrupt lessons with my incessant chatter and laughter. So i'm sorry and thanks so much for being so tolerant. Thank you very much for all you have done for your students and the class. I greatly appreciate it.

Happy teachers' day to you!

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I turned the corner, and there you were. It was fate, as though it was just meant to be. You smiled. With arms spread open, beckoning to me. I approached you. You threw your arms around my neck. Instinctively, I did the same. And though unspoken, there was a sense of mutual acknowledgement somehow. We just stood there for a moment. For that moment the world and time seemed to freeze and only you mattered. A nice, long, warm hug. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Its hard to place a finger on what, but there was a feeling of familiarity – as though meeting an old friend. I began to choke up a little, I dont know why! But that sense of reciprocal appreciation and affection was practically priceless. It is interesting how things change, interpersonal relations. It is really so elusive; I doubt I would ever begin to comprehend its full virtues.  Truly, it is almost unimaginable we have changed from two people who didn't get along, to that precious moment of today.

And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness, for the things I've done you blamed me for. But then I guess we know there's blame to share, and none of this seems to matter anymore... Who can say if I've been changed for the better, but because I knew you, I have been changed for good.