The Aftermath of Wally's paper
Friday, April 28, 2006
I just learnt that Wally is quite a derogatory American term for someone's stupid or dumb... Thanks to Kim's aunt and uncle who braved the bad weather and heavy traffic to get us down to our 9am paper. It was such a long ride (about an hour) that we started chit-chatting and singing to Gold 90.5 fm just to make ourselves feel better. At about 8:50-ish, we were still crawling through Clementi... and it's strange but we saw this guy running along the road towards school in the rain. Was he really going to run all the way to school? I was so relieved I wasn't stranded at a bus stop or something, nor stuck in some traffic jam and be the one driving because by the time I reach school, I
wouldn't have been fit enough to sit for the paper.
Anyway if you were wondering, yes Kim and I did reach school on time... actually we were a few minutes late but when we ran into the lecture hall, we found Wally standing there looking at the clock. Oh. So he waited for five minutes for the latecomers. That's strange of Wally isn't it? He gave extra time to those who came in late because of traffic and weather conditions.
Back to Wally before I forget... hmm who the hell came up with that nickname for him? *Stares questionably at Faith* When I first heard it, I thought it sounded a little intimate, like someone's favourite pet or something. Then again, it also sounds like a penguin or maybe the big fat hamtaro on Kim's bed.
After having had a few hours of sleep the night before the paper, Kim and I were so braindead we had a long chit-chat session which started in the Arts canteen all the way to her room, and eventually we were sitting on her bed. Thus I found out the reason for her inability to study at home. Talk about not having a proper table... Her bed is glued to her table which is probably not the size of a proper table and is semi-converted into a mini-altar and half-dresser, which is stuck to her mini TV, on top of which sits her cable TV box. And of course her TV is right next to her computer. Actually it sounds kind of like my room. My table is so cluttered I sit on my bed half the time when I'm home and my bed faces the TV (complete with cable TV box, DVD player, VCR) and the table which my laptop sits on most of the time. Talk about distractions.
From time to time she has to help her nine-year-old sister google information for her project, which is exactly what I would be doing if I were home. My mother and sister have no qualms about entering my room like it was a common hallway... then the slavehood begins... as if nobody else was computer-literate in the family. And then sometimes, my mother would take my sister on shopping trips and if I were home, they would tempt me to go along. Well, usually the answer would be positive, even though I knew I would end up carrying all the bags.
Pretty much everything after Wally's paper got deconstructed.. my plans to study that afternoon were whiled away chatting with Kim. Eventually, talking became slurring and we almost fell asleep on the sofa (er yes we moved out of her room 'cos her air-con was making us feel sleepy). Of course we made plans to study at least one day before our last papers, just so we would feel good about ourselves I suspect.
3:29 pm
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Save me
Monday, April 24, 2006
It has begun... the exams... though I don't remember it being as tiring as it is now. My collapse into fatigue has finally started, though a tad bit too early considering I'm not even halfway across my papers. Last semester my collapse came only after the second last paper, which was Sci-fi, so I'm quite surprised to find my energy largely drained just after one paper this semester. Talk about getting old.
I'm so tired I'm not even writing what I came here to write. I wanted to write about our narcissistic lecturers who gave us mediocre grades for our essays just because we did not plaglarise their lecture notes, in short, we did not write what they liked most to read i.e. their most precious opinions and comments which they value more than anything else in the world, including the students' interesting and differing perspectives. So how are we to make up for the rest of the percentage in the exams? Memorise their bloody notes! Talk about being silenced. I wanted also to give these lecturers poxes, so did Faith who was equally pissed about her essay.
I also wanted to write about the paradise of books I accidentally found while studying in the new (well not so new now) national library and the breathtaking view the reference sections gave to the city and most of all, Saint Joseph's gothic church. I also wanted to give poxes to the rules which forbid us to bring in personal belongings into these sections of the library.
I also wanted to write about Donne and my intolerance for his violent imagery expressing his anxieties about his faith. Perhaps if he didn't doubt so much and write
so many poems regarding the matter, he might have had the chance to sit down and think about the contrary. I also want to give a pox to the only non-open book exam I have for making me memorise quotes from the Donnian poems which I have since developed low tolerance for.
So what did I not want to write about?
Please save me from this wretched fatigue soon...
The river runs and the river hidesOut to the ocean and under the skyI promise you, the answer will comeHold on to patience and watch for the signEverything in its time.
8:46 pm
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Herstory
Saturday, April 15, 2006
I'm writing this partly as a response to the bloggers' Feminist Movement pioneered by Xiaohui and reinforced by Faith. Well, there has to be some blog-to-blog interaction, right?
I guess the main reason why I react so strongly to Feminist writings and remarks has to do with my mother. The first lesson she taught me ever since I was old enough to talk and walk by myself was (and probably is still doing so, if not constantly reminding me): if I fell, I should pick myself up. And later on, she emphasised that especially since I was female, it was all the more important for me to take extra care of myself because she couldn't be there to protect me forever.
However, despite saying this, my mother, who taught me the art of self-defence and now my sister, looks for chivalry in a man. Her type is the man who is able to provide for her and the family and also (well for the younger people here who are not considering marriage yet) the kind who is proactive in chasing the woman he loves i.e. pull out chairs, calls her instead of her calling him, drives her around, pampers her by buying little gifts or just taking her out etc. Of course, needless to say, she found most of the criteria in my father.
Anyway back to the topic, there is a counter-argument to that: women want to be equals of men yet they want all the benefits of chivalry. Now, ladies, please don't get worked up yet. I am not endorsing this, though I think it's an important point to bring up. This is what some men in our society think and they think that it is unfair that on the one hand, women want to be treated as equals yet on the other, they also want to be pampered and be treated to all the niceties that chivalry brings. So I can understand why it's a bit of a conflict for them to straddle both sides of the fence (talk about guys not being able to multi-task! but that's besides the point), so some men differentiate between the ladies they would like to date by treating them chivalrously and those they don't by treating them equally. And by equally, I mean they treat them as if they were their male friends.
Now this is where the problem arises. The women want to be treated as equals but not in the way the men perceive equality i.e. equals as in being on par with the men in terms of intellect and the potential to excel, yet the women
do not want to be treated by the men like how they would treat their male friends... you know with vulgarities and stuff. So basically, the real chivalrous man emerges when he treats all ladies as his equals and yet with care as if they all matter alot to him. Of course this is the ideal chivalrous man and any man remotely similar to him will somewhat stand out already from your average guy on the street.
So why have men lost this chivalry of the medieval ages when men used to ride horses? Either they're intentionally trying hard to be male chauvinists (which I strongly doubt with the exception of a stubborn few)... or as I've mentioned earlier, they probably don't know how to differentiate how to treat a lady equally and yet treat her like a lady. In other words, they are not so well-informed and probably need a bit of boosting from his lady friends (which is why I think men should have good lady friends who will give good advice such as: be a gentleman).
So what is the moral of herstory? If you are a good lady friend of any of your lost male friends, please kindly give them a tip or two. It will be very helpful in the long run,
seriously.
9:53 pm
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(Too) Close to the Sun
Saturday, April 08, 2006
I am just this close to getting burnt... very soon and in fact, I'm actually quite afraid of it. Depression has sunken into my psyche, I have a compulsive-obsessive behaviour towards my school work and not going to school for one day feels weird for me.. I think I even dream of school in my sleep! Last night was the only time I slept so much in days and isn't it weird that I feel even more sleeply when I woke up? But I keep thinking about school and how much work i still have despite (almost) nearing the end of deadlines, so effectively I can't sleep properly.
It's not enough to recognise that I am stressed, I think I need to acknowledge that I am actually near burnt out. You know, it's the you-will-feel-better-if-you-let-it-out thing. And I don't know if I will feel better but at least I'm finding an outlet for it, which I think should be good right? And the funny thing about being (too) close to the sun is that I'm still very much attracted to it and yet repelled by it because it's too hot and will burn me. Even though I can still joke about it and stuff, I think school has effected a very large change on me. My friends have started asking if I lost weight and I shrug it off by saying: it's school. And it doesn't help that I have become quite lethargic and have lost (well most of) my appetite, and as another friend puts it: I've been relegated to eating grass. Am I? I think it's okay by me, actually.
To tell the truth I feel quite tired but still have another lap to run, like those JC days where you have the 2.4km run and it's the end of the 5th round and you're just starting on the 6th round but you feel quite tired already from sprinting the first five. And I dread to think that after completing the 6th round, I still have another few more rounds to go. It's like an neverending thing... people are graduating but I'm stuck here another year. Not I don't choose to, but it's so physically energy-draining that I feel quite tempted to just graduate anyway. Wait, I take that back. Working is another headache altogether. No... I wish to buy more time.
Reminds me of those instant order things in fastfood restaurants...
"More time, please."
"Time order coming up rightaway," as the cashier hands me the brown dingy package called "time".
"Thank you," I mumbled and opened it only to discover a little yellow flame which even moths won't be attracted to. And I get more dismayed than before at finding that this is what I've strived for so hard and for so long and have only gotten so much as this tiny a flame. I mean, what's this compared to the sun? Here I am striving so hard for the sun but have only gotten this little spark that can either (a) quickly die off or (b) amount into a sun after years of hard work.
It's just too depressing to even think about, I have to get back to reading again.
6:26 pm
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Two minutes of guilty pleasure
Thursday, April 06, 2006
My two minutes of guilty pleasure starts here. I am in the middle of my Feminism essay, and I should be typing, editing, re-editing, checking for errors, printing what have you. But no, I choose to stroll to the tempting candy shop below the library to purchase sinful snacks so I am awake enough to write this. And it doesn't help that my allowance has dwindled considerably since the beginning of the week and I wonder why since I have not gone anywhere these past few weeks but to school and back, but lo and behold, before the sinful candy I succumb to two minutes of guilty pleasure (not the same two minutes duh). I buy chocolates, chips, sweets what have you. I think I should know the shop by hard by now.
I come back to my desk and laptop and stare at the screen while waiting for fellow essay muggers to buzz me so we can procrastinate and complain together about the amount of work we have to do but are half doing it and half procrastinating (?? How do we even do it??) But my procrastination does not end here. I fantasize about going home early to get more sleep and when I finally do, I realise it's not even early anymore and I have to wake up early (again!) the next morning and go through the same routine again. So yes, basically all my attempts to lie to myself have failed miserably time and again.
And how did I end up here writing about guilty pleasures? Let me tell you. I heard the DJ read out somebody else's list of top ten guilty pleasures and one of them was: receiving flowers from guys other than her boyfriend on Valentines' Day. Let me tell you what's on top of NUS muggers' top ten list of guilty pleasures: beat everyone else and get As despite the stupid bell curve without even having to lift a finger. (And I stress alot on the "beat everyone else" and you can go and imagine about it being literal or metaphorical) Let me tell you another thing from this list: beat everyone else to the power points in the library and secure a nice two-seater which you can hog the whole day just by
not unplugging your plug or leaving phony postits requesting for others not to touch
your power point because it's
yours. And you know what's a counter guilty pleasure to that? Unplugging their plug and tearing their note and then stick yours into it and act nonchalant about it.
Of course, you must remember the fundamental thing about guilty pleasures is that it is meant to be fantasized in your head but never to materialise.
5:43 pm
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