How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!/ The world forgetting, by the world forgot./ Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!/ Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
and with that quote i declare Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind my favourite movie until the next show i watch. 'you have been erased from someone's memory'. what a concept. both ways. having your memory erased, and having someone's memory of you erased, both sides of the same coin. after all, what are we but concepts and thoughts and a projection of our personality and so if there's nothing to project to then whats left of us? this brings to mind an memory from a few years back.
-history-
Roger is a guy from ACS barker primary who was a bit nuts. He idolized hitler and during recess would send me on missions to assasinate the principal or who naught and no this was no child-game for him and he took the whole business very seriously. sometime in primary 5 i think he just disappeared. just stopped coming to school. no one knew where he went and no one was old enough to care and we went on with our carefree primary school life eating canteen food and playing police and thief and all the assorted trappings.
-end history-
few years back, i was browsing around MPH bookstore when no and behold i saw him!
"Roger! hey! remember me? lennard!"
"Lennard? what is this? who is this? no!! no!!" and he clutched at his head and scrunced his face and waved his hand and had a dreamy look in his eye. he had a caretaker with him and she promptly shoo-ed me away and told me never to talk or bother him again and it was an altogether very disorienting experience but no i didn't feel sorry for him but i am sorry that he will never remember me, insignificant as it may be.
i fondly remember him.
Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders. and when Mary (Kirsten Dunst) said that i thought of firstly him, and then myself.
and then the movie also brings to mind the concept of 'the one'. no i'm not talking about the jet li corn-ball sci-fi thrash flick, but about a notion old as time about soulmates, about two people made just for each other, fitting each other snugly like adjacent puzzle pieces. Homer and Marge come close. do i believe that we've a special someone out there? honestly, no i don't, but i think there definately are people who are better suited for each other. joan's post mentioned that monogomy is dead and how different people complete different aspects of our being and i say all those in favour, say aye.
aye.
and. and i am glad that jim carrey is started to flex his thespian muscles. first Man on The Moon, which was under-appreciated, then The Truman Show, which was excellent, and The Majestic, which was severely under-rated. now this, Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind. Oh joy, oh joyful elation, i'll jump in the air and click my heels for him. if you could buy hollywoodstar stocks, i say buybuybuybuy jim carrey. Bigger things to come and i for one eagerly anticipate with baited breath.
2004-06-02
again i say why can't soap be moisturizing, anti-bacterial, mild and refreshing, all-in-one?! is it so hard to do? why must it be always an either/or choice.
i fear my bodyclock has given in to regimentation... now even on my book out days i'm sleepy by 10 and awake by 6. i want my unhealthy lifestyle back! and i've started playing magic... any magic players out there? i wanna play!
i fear my bodyclock has given in to regimentation... now even on my book out days i'm sleepy by 10 and awake by 6. i want my unhealthy lifestyle back! and i've started playing magic... any magic players out there? i wanna play!
2004-05-30
my dad bought one of those home brewery kits to mark the day today kids, 30 May 2004, because years from now when my career is in tatters and my family an apocolyptic vision of dysfunction and i am lying in a pool of my drunken vomit and the psychiatrist asks me how did i start my alcoholism, this would probably be it.
with the brewery kit, the cost of each bottle of beer works out to about... 70 cents. and it gets cheaper and cheaper the more i brew since the fixed cost of the kit itself is spread over. =) i'm very pleased.
with the brewery kit, the cost of each bottle of beer works out to about... 70 cents. and it gets cheaper and cheaper the more i brew since the fixed cost of the kit itself is spread over. =) i'm very pleased.
2004-05-23
salman was complaining about our squad mates and we were reviewing some of them individually and then we came to X and i said "he's okay what" and salman said "but he has no personality" and then i said "well, at least he doesn't have a bad personality" and that pretty sums up my hopeless optimism.
hansel said Y is an example of 'good character but bad personality' and i one of 'bad character but good personality', meaning no one likes him but he's probably going to heaven, and people do like me, but i'm probably going to hell.
hey, at least the very notion of heaven/hell still isn't a confirmed thing.
hansel said Y is an example of 'good character but bad personality' and i one of 'bad character but good personality', meaning no one likes him but he's probably going to heaven, and people do like me, but i'm probably going to hell.
hey, at least the very notion of heaven/hell still isn't a confirmed thing.
to prevent myself falling prey to consumer folly and buying bad things on first impulse just because they look pretty, i used to carry a little notebook around with me and if i saw a book or cd or product or had an idea or semblence of one at least, i'd jot it down and once in a while i'l open my little notebook when i'm home, jump on the super-information highway and cruise amazon.com and similar sites for product reviews just to make sure that its not just a pretty cover/clever title i'm paying for.
the point of my telling you all that, is because i don't carry around that notebook instead. instead, i use the notes function of my mobile. but the other day while browsing around borders with yoon, i felt pretty smart about myself when i took the technological step forward and used my phones voice memo function instead. but now i'm home and free and i used the voice playback function, what i hear is close to what you hear in those movies where the cops talk to each other on the CB radio.
*cackle cackel* -insert garbledegook, mix with a pinch of muffled sounds- *cackle cackle*, and i've no idea what i was saying to myself.
roger that, 10-4
the point of my telling you all that, is because i don't carry around that notebook instead. instead, i use the notes function of my mobile. but the other day while browsing around borders with yoon, i felt pretty smart about myself when i took the technological step forward and used my phones voice memo function instead. but now i'm home and free and i used the voice playback function, what i hear is close to what you hear in those movies where the cops talk to each other on the CB radio.
*cackle cackel* -insert garbledegook, mix with a pinch of muffled sounds- *cackle cackle*, and i've no idea what i was saying to myself.
roger that, 10-4
my internet connection conked on me. literally. while surfing on my brothers computer, which is next to the cable modem and main router, the wires started giving off this buzzing hissing noise like a serpentine entity and then like it spat its poisonous bile into the router, all the lights on the router lighted up and then it went 'pop' and then there was silence. a vaccum of an internet-less house. for a moment there, my whole family, or well, me at least, felt very vulnerable. there was no more internet. i repeat, there was no more internet.
well truth be told, it wasn't really so elaborate. the internet connection just died and i don't know why. but that version sounds so much nicer.
well truth be told, it wasn't really so elaborate. the internet connection just died and i don't know why. but that version sounds so much nicer.
2004-05-20
2004-05-19
ok so i got NUS archi and i wouldn't say i'm happy as hell or joyously ecstatic. i don't know how i feel now really. i feel like there's a finality and i can now see myself 3, 4, 5 years down the road. call it security or call it claustrophobic. i'll tell you in 3, 4, 5 years time.
some history. my grand-dad wanted to be an architect, and went to AA (Architect's Assoc.) in Uk to study. but after a year or so, he dropped out and switched to law. Cited it as one of the bigger regrets in his life. then his son, my uncle, wanted to be an architect and went to AA and after a year or so dropped out and switched to law. again, same story of regret. and now comes me, third in line. if you want to be fatalistic, difference is i'm not going to AA. (tho i intend to after a few years locally). if you want to be superstitious, then rest assured, third's the charm, so they say. and if you just want my opinion, fret not. i think i'll stick it out. or it'll stick to me, i don't know which. one in the same, i'd like to think.
i tried this new brand of cigs called Viceroy, which is pretty decent for a $7 pack. burns out pretty fast tho. it tastes like a marlboro, which is either saying alot for Viceroy, or doesn't say much for marlboro.
if you've been an observant reader and noted the day and time i'm making this entry, yes, i'm home when i should be in camp. no, i haven't gone AWOL (tho it is tempting) i'm on MC! grin, whee! while doing provost duty (i.e. like a prefect), and the squads all have to report to me, its kinda funny to hear things like
"total strength 40, present strength 34, 2 sentries, 2 MC, 1 AWOL, 1 jail."
speaking of 'written speakin', you know, when there's a conversation in a book.
"i think you have me wrong!"
"why? i didn't do anything to deserve this?! Immersed in this malevolent machavillean milieu, the rancid ravaging renaissance of the rain swirled like the Yin and the Yang, the energies which dictate Life, the Beginning and the End, much mimicking the Gods of old, with their heinous holiness, with wisps of Fate casting Man about His own pathetic quagmire. Ran I did, like mythical Mercury, swerving round the pedestrian bends of Olympus, as i wondered if the Universe ever possessed a crossroads, with the celestial cilia of the ecumenical empyrean body acting as lethal lights of Loki, lying lingering."
"blablablablabla"
"but blablbablablabblablblablbal"
"however, blalalalalalalalbablblalb"
... and it goes on and on and its soon i lose track of whos saying what and i'll have to back track and count alternate speech baubles to figure it out and its just very irritating. which is why sometimes, a comic is so much better.
i've been bitten by the sudden bug of consumer theraphy. i've a longing to spend my money, and the sad thing is i don't know what to buy! iPod? what about the battery dying in a few years leaving me with just a pretty white shell? clothes? nah. i've enough. (cant believe i said it.) handphone? just bought one last week. so how?! any suggestions? and no, i'm not buying anyone anything. this is purely selfish because i am selfish and why deny it. grin.
don't be a gong kia. learn a new language.
some history. my grand-dad wanted to be an architect, and went to AA (Architect's Assoc.) in Uk to study. but after a year or so, he dropped out and switched to law. Cited it as one of the bigger regrets in his life. then his son, my uncle, wanted to be an architect and went to AA and after a year or so dropped out and switched to law. again, same story of regret. and now comes me, third in line. if you want to be fatalistic, difference is i'm not going to AA. (tho i intend to after a few years locally). if you want to be superstitious, then rest assured, third's the charm, so they say. and if you just want my opinion, fret not. i think i'll stick it out. or it'll stick to me, i don't know which. one in the same, i'd like to think.
i tried this new brand of cigs called Viceroy, which is pretty decent for a $7 pack. burns out pretty fast tho. it tastes like a marlboro, which is either saying alot for Viceroy, or doesn't say much for marlboro.
if you've been an observant reader and noted the day and time i'm making this entry, yes, i'm home when i should be in camp. no, i haven't gone AWOL (tho it is tempting) i'm on MC! grin, whee! while doing provost duty (i.e. like a prefect), and the squads all have to report to me, its kinda funny to hear things like
"total strength 40, present strength 34, 2 sentries, 2 MC, 1 AWOL, 1 jail."
speaking of 'written speakin', you know, when there's a conversation in a book.
"i think you have me wrong!"
"why? i didn't do anything to deserve this?! Immersed in this malevolent machavillean milieu, the rancid ravaging renaissance of the rain swirled like the Yin and the Yang, the energies which dictate Life, the Beginning and the End, much mimicking the Gods of old, with their heinous holiness, with wisps of Fate casting Man about His own pathetic quagmire. Ran I did, like mythical Mercury, swerving round the pedestrian bends of Olympus, as i wondered if the Universe ever possessed a crossroads, with the celestial cilia of the ecumenical empyrean body acting as lethal lights of Loki, lying lingering."
"blablablablabla"
"but blablbablablabblablblablbal"
"however, blalalalalalalalbablblalb"
... and it goes on and on and its soon i lose track of whos saying what and i'll have to back track and count alternate speech baubles to figure it out and its just very irritating. which is why sometimes, a comic is so much better.
i've been bitten by the sudden bug of consumer theraphy. i've a longing to spend my money, and the sad thing is i don't know what to buy! iPod? what about the battery dying in a few years leaving me with just a pretty white shell? clothes? nah. i've enough. (cant believe i said it.) handphone? just bought one last week. so how?! any suggestions? and no, i'm not buying anyone anything. this is purely selfish because i am selfish and why deny it. grin.
don't be a gong kia. learn a new language.
2004-05-16
i would be very sad if i were the producer of Troy. Millions of dollars, months of filming and prior to that probably a hell of a lot of heart went into conceptualization, for a stunning epic* of such imaginative girth and when its finally released, it seems the biggest fanfare about the whole project is the fact that the men are in skirts. i'm starting to get The Fountainhead more. you should read it, it'll make you hate the world.
*personally, i've never watched it
*personally, i've never watched it
2004-05-15
the first thing on i would like to do is to kill Simple Plan. solely because of their song 'Perfect'. you know what i'm talking about. its just whining whining whining. whining in itself isn't that bad, if you're whining about something thats worth whining about. but 'perfect' just whines about... whining! and some of the lunkheads in my squad has acquired a taste for that song, forever having it on the tip of their tongue. if i fathered a child who sang that to me, i'd kick his sorry ass.
and no i'm not whining. i'm complaining.
and no i'm not whining. i'm complaining.
2004-05-09
i've been very bratty lately about NS and being in the police. i keep thinking if i were in OCS instead of OCT i'd be having a hell lot more fun, which brings to mind a conversation i had with dao rong in BMT. i don't know if i've blogged this before, but here goes anyway.
we were talking about which company was better, which posting was the better posting and all that. then i said a common adage, of how the 'grass is always greener on the other side' and we started arguing, nicely of course. then he asked- "so, then where is the so called other side then??". i thought for a bit.
"the side we're not on" checkmate. and that pretty sums up that truism.
we were talking about which company was better, which posting was the better posting and all that. then i said a common adage, of how the 'grass is always greener on the other side' and we started arguing, nicely of course. then he asked- "so, then where is the so called other side then??". i thought for a bit.
"the side we're not on" checkmate. and that pretty sums up that truism.
while adding songs to my iTunes, i glanced at the song countlist and i had 1234 songs. i like moments like these, like when you glance at your watch and its 11:11 or the date is 04/04 or 05/05 or oh oh better yet its 4:44am/pm on 04/04/04. it feels more special. it makes the moment seem more preordained or something, i can't really put a finger on it.
i really love what they're doing with music, 'breaking down' all these genres like hiphop fusing rock and jazz creeping into ska and all that, but god almighty its tough keeping an organized iTunes library! i've no idea what to classify somethings as at times.
last night after watching Kill Bill Vol.2 (which is very good btw), i departed from lido to walk to taka to meet isaac&gang. it was 7-ish, i had a cigarette kissing my lips, the air had a chill in it, and then i bought a $2 hotdog from the roadside stand (you know, the one next to wisma). and as i walked the streets, it felt different. the air was sparkling, crisper. i felt free there, all alone like i was in a bubble that was part of but not of the crowd. 'for a moment, i felt infinite', and there's nothing else that can describe the feeling. i hope you feel it sometime too.
Kill Bill is just fucking gorgeous. i loved loved loved loved and adored the ending. ok i concede. Quentin is the king of cool. i watched reservoir and wasn't really bought over by the hype. then pulp fiction. and now this. and i'm hooked man oh man. all's't left is Jackie Brown for a complete Tarantino immersion. i hope they teach him in film schools, and not just talk about classic masters like hitchcock.
i really love what they're doing with music, 'breaking down' all these genres like hiphop fusing rock and jazz creeping into ska and all that, but god almighty its tough keeping an organized iTunes library! i've no idea what to classify somethings as at times.
last night after watching Kill Bill Vol.2 (which is very good btw), i departed from lido to walk to taka to meet isaac&gang. it was 7-ish, i had a cigarette kissing my lips, the air had a chill in it, and then i bought a $2 hotdog from the roadside stand (you know, the one next to wisma). and as i walked the streets, it felt different. the air was sparkling, crisper. i felt free there, all alone like i was in a bubble that was part of but not of the crowd. 'for a moment, i felt infinite', and there's nothing else that can describe the feeling. i hope you feel it sometime too.
Kill Bill is just fucking gorgeous. i loved loved loved loved and adored the ending. ok i concede. Quentin is the king of cool. i watched reservoir and wasn't really bought over by the hype. then pulp fiction. and now this. and i'm hooked man oh man. all's't left is Jackie Brown for a complete Tarantino immersion. i hope they teach him in film schools, and not just talk about classic masters like hitchcock.
2004-05-08
i've a morbid fascination.
now that i'm in tha PA, theres no more M16s, but theres still the pistol. you know when people describe the feeling of power or awe when they hold the gun? its no lie. call it spiritual if you will. its like a baptism, and i suddenly have to power to take life and destroy at no more than the pull of a finger. is that how a god would feel like? "by the power vested in me, i pronounce you... dead."
and i want to know how it feels to have a bullet tear and tunnel through flesh. what would it be like? the moment before. the moment of impact. the moment of realization. the gun possseses my hand and i've to will it not to point the gun at myself or anyone else. its scary sometimes.
don't think me mad or insane please. i'm just being frank.
now that i'm in tha PA, theres no more M16s, but theres still the pistol. you know when people describe the feeling of power or awe when they hold the gun? its no lie. call it spiritual if you will. its like a baptism, and i suddenly have to power to take life and destroy at no more than the pull of a finger. is that how a god would feel like? "by the power vested in me, i pronounce you... dead."
and i want to know how it feels to have a bullet tear and tunnel through flesh. what would it be like? the moment before. the moment of impact. the moment of realization. the gun possseses my hand and i've to will it not to point the gun at myself or anyone else. its scary sometimes.
don't think me mad or insane please. i'm just being frank.
2004-04-30
it was our free time at night in camp when hansel and i, dressed in a collage of boxers, army singlets and market flipflops, sat on the cold concrete floor easing our backs onto the wall, taking care not to further agitate the chipping flakes of paint. florescent rained down on us, and our lesson began. he was teaching me to appreciate classical music. in return, i shared the whiskey i brought in. romantic and baroque, thats what i learned i liked the most.
lesson ends and we are in the toilet, the usual cubical C8 smoking as i commented how that was a very post modern moment. but then again, everything's post modern, innit? so he proposed it be post-post modern. i squatted thoughtfully and replied with a fart.
lesson ends and we are in the toilet, the usual cubical C8 smoking as i commented how that was a very post modern moment. but then again, everything's post modern, innit? so he proposed it be post-post modern. i squatted thoughtfully and replied with a fart.
2004-04-25
i have a 2-litre water bottle in camp and everyday i would chugg and chugg and chugg like a desperate man. then one day, the guy sleeping next to me asked, "oi. why you always drink so much water ah?" to which i replied "just trying to get my daily fill" and proceeded to elaborate what i meant.
so for those as daft as me, let me educate you. The daily requirement for water is 6 to 8 glasses, not litres.
so for those as daft as me, let me educate you. The daily requirement for water is 6 to 8 glasses, not litres.
its fucking tragic. you can call it silly, overhyped, melodramatic, self-indulgent, but i call it fucking tragic. The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys. Its a fleshed out movie, you know what i mean? you can see from Sister Assumpta's view, but then, having been a teen once, you can also emphatize with the Altar Boys. its a matter of the subjective right, its all about perspective. It makes you remember and reflect.
Zircon Gov. Pawn Starz rocked the house last night at zouk. a house of corpses, might i add as everyone stood static like a gaping mannequin audience as x-ho and gang was rocking all away on stage, as suzanne walker left one question on the minds of most of the males- "wardobe malfunction, please?". Whoever said the Dead Can Dance. There's this magic concotion that i shall introduce to you. Purple Haze. (all in my brain) its fucking tops, tho a tad neutered. try it, its a drink everyone would love. for the whole family, no shitting you.
i've got NUS archi assestment this friday.
Skeleton Boy. I'll rid myself of this binding flesh. maybe we're all just electric demons in love, sparks flying hissing, makes purty noises like an egg frying in the skillet and the trail of egg white and a spherical yolk i'd burst with a pin prick and let the golden life drain out of it. maybe its all just a folk song blowing in the wind or maybe we're just dreams of the dead. and i'm a beat poet, man.
Zircon Gov. Pawn Starz rocked the house last night at zouk. a house of corpses, might i add as everyone stood static like a gaping mannequin audience as x-ho and gang was rocking all away on stage, as suzanne walker left one question on the minds of most of the males- "wardobe malfunction, please?". Whoever said the Dead Can Dance. There's this magic concotion that i shall introduce to you. Purple Haze. (all in my brain) its fucking tops, tho a tad neutered. try it, its a drink everyone would love. for the whole family, no shitting you.
i've got NUS archi assestment this friday.
Skeleton Boy. I'll rid myself of this binding flesh. maybe we're all just electric demons in love, sparks flying hissing, makes purty noises like an egg frying in the skillet and the trail of egg white and a spherical yolk i'd burst with a pin prick and let the golden life drain out of it. maybe its all just a folk song blowing in the wind or maybe we're just dreams of the dead. and i'm a beat poet, man.
2004-04-18
i found a message to myself recently. i was flipping through my old note books and from out of one the yellowed grotty pages it read-
To Lennard-future,
-the message itself is personal- (well, actually not so much but the notebook is in camp. i'll try remem to bring it back next time)
regards,
Lennard-present (to you, Lennard-past.)
what a surprise. it was from sec 4. and i found another one from J1. surreal to say the least. well, nonetheless, i replied it appropriately and it boggles the mind that maybe at the moment i wrote the reply Lennard-past had a premonition of it and maybe it made him make certain decisions that changed Lennard-future's (currently Lennard-present) life. and i wouldn't know this. it alienates me from me. and im running around in circles with this and i can't quite make head of tail of it but i like thinking about it. in keeping with the spirit i wrote a letter for Lennard-future on a scrap of paper and slipped it in one of my books and i wonder if years down i will find it. i feel very odd about the whole thing. maybe you should try it too.
To Lennard-future,
-the message itself is personal- (well, actually not so much but the notebook is in camp. i'll try remem to bring it back next time)
regards,
Lennard-present (to you, Lennard-past.)
what a surprise. it was from sec 4. and i found another one from J1. surreal to say the least. well, nonetheless, i replied it appropriately and it boggles the mind that maybe at the moment i wrote the reply Lennard-past had a premonition of it and maybe it made him make certain decisions that changed Lennard-future's (currently Lennard-present) life. and i wouldn't know this. it alienates me from me. and im running around in circles with this and i can't quite make head of tail of it but i like thinking about it. in keeping with the spirit i wrote a letter for Lennard-future on a scrap of paper and slipped it in one of my books and i wonder if years down i will find it. i feel very odd about the whole thing. maybe you should try it too.
lots to post! first things first, here's a bio i had to write for the course manager.
-start-
Lennard Ong
OCT 01/04
S/N 029
On the 9th of February 1985, I was born into this temporal world under the iffy name of Lennard, a perversion of the original spelling of Leonard, an unintentional mistake on my mother’s part. However, it works out pretty well and I think over my 19 years of existence, I’ve grown pretty attached to my name and its odd spelling.
On that same year of my birth, my aunties also birthed 3 other cousins my age- Darryl, Karl and Marcus. Conspiracy, or pure coincidence? You decide, but nonetheless, it was pretty cool growing up with cousins my age. We all went through the same educational path of ACS primary, to ACS secondary, on occasion even sharing the title of classmate. However, after the O levels, like all adolescent boys forming independent opinions of the world and its workings, we all chose different JC’s which we felt suited our different personalities better. Karl went to Anglo-Chinese JC, Darryl to Hwa Chong JC and I’m not too sure where Marcus went. He was always the aloof and distant cousin who never joined in our usual follies. As for myself, I chose to go to Raffles JC but left for schooling for a few months before re-joining again in July, but lets not go there.
Rewind back from JC and back to my childhood. I grew up an with a brother 6 years my junior, and I’ve really nothing much to say about him, except that he is getting less irritating as he ages and I’m kind of growing to like him now. You know how they say things ‘grow on you’. On a more intimate note, my brother is somewhat dyslexic so he does have trouble with his studies, but he manages. The lucky duck, he’s excused from Chinese on the same grounds! Oh what a lovely notion.
-
The Summer of Love- The Story of Lennard and his beloved oriental lily, Chinese.
It started out promising enough, with Lennard’s love for Chinese growing and his oratorical command of the language blossoming until the fateful year of 1995 (Primary 4), when he entered primary 4 and it all just started to fall apart.
Like all struggling couples, they tried. Counseling, tuition, helpful suggestions from friends and family, but the two lovebirds just couldn’t work it out. Lennard started spending less and less time with Chinese, and Chinese in turn became more and more distant, forming a hard outer shell never again to let Lennard enter the wonderful world of its mysteries.
By 1998 (Secondary 1), the relationship, or tatters of it, more like, left Lennard in the ditch of starting compositions with ‘Yi(1) Ge(4) Fong(1) He(2) Re(4) Li(4) De(3) Xing(1) Chi(2) Tian(2)…’. However, Lennard managed to scrape past the major exams with near-missed fails and barely-hit passes.
In JC, it was too much to bear. Chinese had forsaken Lennard, totally turning her back to him, resulting in an F9 grade for the two times Lennard sat the Chinese A level paper.
The relationship unbearable, Lennard turned to Chinese ‘B’ and finally got a pass, thus allowing him to move on and finally ending this wretched love story with Chinese.
And as all stories go, they lived happily ever after, albeit vastly separate lives. Xie Xie.
-
I’ve moved houses a total of 8 times in my life, and that has given me a sense of displacement. Not that it’s a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. I live with an odd balance of attachment to friends and possessions while at the same time acknowledging that everything is by and large transient. Detached might be the word for me, but I’d like to think I’ve my bursts of passion.
Of these flights of fancy, many short-lived, I count photography, art, reading and lately, beer to be the few things you pick up for life.
Reading was a habit I picked up since young, as it does for most people. Its just that unlike other people I was never really good, or interested, in sports, so I just kept reading, and 19 years later, I’ve still my nosed buried in a book and burgeoning library fines.
As for art and photography, I’d say they go hand in hand. It’s about remembering, it’s about documenting, about expression and self-satisfaction. Sometimes, it’s really about nothing much at all but its more a compulsion. It makes me feel… funny. But funny in a good way, especially when you’ve completed a piece or shot a nice picture. Warm and fuzzy in the pit of the stomach, that’s how I’d describe the feeling. Lately, since enlisting, I’m finding it harder and harder to find time to immerse myself in such endeavors at the depths I’d like to. (*Hint*)
Back to the present, at the age of 19, the cusp of the care-free riotous folly of teen-hood and the eventual numbing down of young-adulthood, under the Section 13 of the Government’s Bo-Pian Act, Lennard is now serving out his national service term and cannot wait to end it and get on with the rest of his life, with bigger seas to swim in and dreams to chase, and aspirations of building castles in the sky.
There. That’s me, a slice of Lennard. Not the whole cake, mind you. Just a slice.
-end-
theres a lot of studying to do in the police. lets see... for my first test, basically a national education thing, one of the questions asked- what do the 5 stars on the flag stand for? and i triumphantly answered, the nations 5 races! then i started to list it out- Chinese, malay, indian... wait... shit. thers only 3?! so i took some creative liberties and my final answer was Chinese, malay, indian, eurasian and miscelleanous. how screwed am i...
-start-
Lennard Ong
OCT 01/04
S/N 029
On the 9th of February 1985, I was born into this temporal world under the iffy name of Lennard, a perversion of the original spelling of Leonard, an unintentional mistake on my mother’s part. However, it works out pretty well and I think over my 19 years of existence, I’ve grown pretty attached to my name and its odd spelling.
On that same year of my birth, my aunties also birthed 3 other cousins my age- Darryl, Karl and Marcus. Conspiracy, or pure coincidence? You decide, but nonetheless, it was pretty cool growing up with cousins my age. We all went through the same educational path of ACS primary, to ACS secondary, on occasion even sharing the title of classmate. However, after the O levels, like all adolescent boys forming independent opinions of the world and its workings, we all chose different JC’s which we felt suited our different personalities better. Karl went to Anglo-Chinese JC, Darryl to Hwa Chong JC and I’m not too sure where Marcus went. He was always the aloof and distant cousin who never joined in our usual follies. As for myself, I chose to go to Raffles JC but left for schooling for a few months before re-joining again in July, but lets not go there.
Rewind back from JC and back to my childhood. I grew up an with a brother 6 years my junior, and I’ve really nothing much to say about him, except that he is getting less irritating as he ages and I’m kind of growing to like him now. You know how they say things ‘grow on you’. On a more intimate note, my brother is somewhat dyslexic so he does have trouble with his studies, but he manages. The lucky duck, he’s excused from Chinese on the same grounds! Oh what a lovely notion.
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The Summer of Love- The Story of Lennard and his beloved oriental lily, Chinese.
It started out promising enough, with Lennard’s love for Chinese growing and his oratorical command of the language blossoming until the fateful year of 1995 (Primary 4), when he entered primary 4 and it all just started to fall apart.
Like all struggling couples, they tried. Counseling, tuition, helpful suggestions from friends and family, but the two lovebirds just couldn’t work it out. Lennard started spending less and less time with Chinese, and Chinese in turn became more and more distant, forming a hard outer shell never again to let Lennard enter the wonderful world of its mysteries.
By 1998 (Secondary 1), the relationship, or tatters of it, more like, left Lennard in the ditch of starting compositions with ‘Yi(1) Ge(4) Fong(1) He(2) Re(4) Li(4) De(3) Xing(1) Chi(2) Tian(2)…’. However, Lennard managed to scrape past the major exams with near-missed fails and barely-hit passes.
In JC, it was too much to bear. Chinese had forsaken Lennard, totally turning her back to him, resulting in an F9 grade for the two times Lennard sat the Chinese A level paper.
The relationship unbearable, Lennard turned to Chinese ‘B’ and finally got a pass, thus allowing him to move on and finally ending this wretched love story with Chinese.
And as all stories go, they lived happily ever after, albeit vastly separate lives. Xie Xie.
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I’ve moved houses a total of 8 times in my life, and that has given me a sense of displacement. Not that it’s a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. I live with an odd balance of attachment to friends and possessions while at the same time acknowledging that everything is by and large transient. Detached might be the word for me, but I’d like to think I’ve my bursts of passion.
Of these flights of fancy, many short-lived, I count photography, art, reading and lately, beer to be the few things you pick up for life.
Reading was a habit I picked up since young, as it does for most people. Its just that unlike other people I was never really good, or interested, in sports, so I just kept reading, and 19 years later, I’ve still my nosed buried in a book and burgeoning library fines.
As for art and photography, I’d say they go hand in hand. It’s about remembering, it’s about documenting, about expression and self-satisfaction. Sometimes, it’s really about nothing much at all but its more a compulsion. It makes me feel… funny. But funny in a good way, especially when you’ve completed a piece or shot a nice picture. Warm and fuzzy in the pit of the stomach, that’s how I’d describe the feeling. Lately, since enlisting, I’m finding it harder and harder to find time to immerse myself in such endeavors at the depths I’d like to. (*Hint*)
Back to the present, at the age of 19, the cusp of the care-free riotous folly of teen-hood and the eventual numbing down of young-adulthood, under the Section 13 of the Government’s Bo-Pian Act, Lennard is now serving out his national service term and cannot wait to end it and get on with the rest of his life, with bigger seas to swim in and dreams to chase, and aspirations of building castles in the sky.
There. That’s me, a slice of Lennard. Not the whole cake, mind you. Just a slice.
-end-
theres a lot of studying to do in the police. lets see... for my first test, basically a national education thing, one of the questions asked- what do the 5 stars on the flag stand for? and i triumphantly answered, the nations 5 races! then i started to list it out- Chinese, malay, indian... wait... shit. thers only 3?! so i took some creative liberties and my final answer was Chinese, malay, indian, eurasian and miscelleanous. how screwed am i...
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