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October 26th, 2007
September 7th, 2007
June 16th, 2007
Sometimes, distance is comforting. Distance is the buffer of sorts between full-blown insanity and the edge of reason - the only refuge in a world not of our wanting. For generations, the greatest authors of the times have painted us beautiful visions of their ideal worlds with ink and papyrus. If fate were of our own choosing, we wouldn't hesitate to dwell in these worlds constructed out of our deepest ideals. But we can't. If novels, films, televisions, rock songs and religion could put that crucial, life-saving distance between the dreadful reality and our world-weary persons, then so live vicariously and enjoy them as you would drugs.
At the ripe age of nineteen, I hardly like the way my life has turned out. It isn't a bad deal by any standard, but it pales disappointingly in comparison to the life I could have lived. The deal sours even more now that she's probably going overseas for the next six years or so. Six years ago to this day, it was impossible to even predict how life is now. Six years from this day, life would probably be as unrecognizable, but hopefully not unthinkably bad. I try to project myself into 2012. The London Olympics. Another presidential election in America. (and I've just made the link between the two - they always happen together in the same years.) Will I be joining the campaign of my favourite presidential campaign? Will I be watching the world turn from my dormitory at Duke? Or if I'm really lucky, Princeton? I try to project myself, but it's vague and cloudy.
Will I be waiting for her at the airport?
The uncertainty of the world bugs me. If only everything could go precisely as planned with clockwork efficiency; if only accidents didn't happen; if only we could spend our precious, unrepeatable lifetimes living the lives of our own choosing. But under the stars and the heavens, we are nothing more than automata, or balls on a pool table, irrevocably and uncontrollably altering one another's trajectory. Even giant stars live and die by physical forces much greater than their grasp.
The great injustice is how the majority of us are forced to live out our only window of existence, the only window to experience all the things that appeal favourably to our senses and soul, in ways we often do not choose or deserve. The fear and mystery overwhelm as the maglev train of time sends us hurtling towards an unknown, uncharted future not of our own choosing. Time inexorably drives along, and our pleas to alight go unheard. We are imprisoned in reality, watching from behind bars and rooted to the earth as all that we would ideally have entice and brush past us to greater futures.
Reality has no right to decide that we shouldn't have what we want.
It has become my guilty pleasure to close my eyes and watch a certain show - and pretend I'm the Chief of Staff of an ideal White House in a romanticised world. Or a politician who places before politics his own ideals and convictions, personal integrity and his sense of right and wrong, and always takes the victory he deserves. Or a friend who would always know the right things to say, who would never run out of things to say, who would have enough friends to live and breathe just for them. Unfortunately, we don't live in that world. Until we do, I'll just pray that my television doesn't break down.
At the ripe age of nineteen, I hardly like the way my life has turned out. It isn't a bad deal by any standard, but it pales disappointingly in comparison to the life I could have lived. The deal sours even more now that she's probably going overseas for the next six years or so. Six years ago to this day, it was impossible to even predict how life is now. Six years from this day, life would probably be as unrecognizable, but hopefully not unthinkably bad. I try to project myself into 2012. The London Olympics. Another presidential election in America. (and I've just made the link between the two - they always happen together in the same years.) Will I be joining the campaign of my favourite presidential campaign? Will I be watching the world turn from my dormitory at Duke? Or if I'm really lucky, Princeton? I try to project myself, but it's vague and cloudy.
Will I be waiting for her at the airport?
The uncertainty of the world bugs me. If only everything could go precisely as planned with clockwork efficiency; if only accidents didn't happen; if only we could spend our precious, unrepeatable lifetimes living the lives of our own choosing. But under the stars and the heavens, we are nothing more than automata, or balls on a pool table, irrevocably and uncontrollably altering one another's trajectory. Even giant stars live and die by physical forces much greater than their grasp.
The great injustice is how the majority of us are forced to live out our only window of existence, the only window to experience all the things that appeal favourably to our senses and soul, in ways we often do not choose or deserve. The fear and mystery overwhelm as the maglev train of time sends us hurtling towards an unknown, uncharted future not of our own choosing. Time inexorably drives along, and our pleas to alight go unheard. We are imprisoned in reality, watching from behind bars and rooted to the earth as all that we would ideally have entice and brush past us to greater futures.
Reality has no right to decide that we shouldn't have what we want.
It has become my guilty pleasure to close my eyes and watch a certain show - and pretend I'm the Chief of Staff of an ideal White House in a romanticised world. Or a politician who places before politics his own ideals and convictions, personal integrity and his sense of right and wrong, and always takes the victory he deserves. Or a friend who would always know the right things to say, who would never run out of things to say, who would have enough friends to live and breathe just for them. Unfortunately, we don't live in that world. Until we do, I'll just pray that my television doesn't break down.
June 10th, 2007
While he was sleeping...
Polish man wakes up from 19-year coma and discovers a new world
By Matthew Thompson
IT SOUNDS like the far-fetched plot of a Hollywood movie - and has distinct echoes of the 2003 film Goodbye Lenin! - but it's far from fiction.
A man wakes up one day to find a world full of new colours, shops full of amazing new products, and everyone using communication devices once seen only in sci-fi films.
Not only that, but there are two decades' worth of extra wrinkles on the face of the woman he fell in love with, his children have become adults, and he has 11 grandchildren he knew nothing about.
Railway worker Jan Grzebski fell into a coma as still-communist Poland was suffering from food shortages and almost cut off from the outside world by the Iron Curtain, and did not regain consciousness for 19 years.
And, despite admitting that the changes make his head spin, he is very happy with the new reality he has woken up to.
As he puts it: 'The world is prettier now.'
Mr Grzebski lost consciousness in 1988 after sustaining head injuries in a workplace accident, and doctors treating him then found cancer in his brain as well.
Their prognosis was understandably bleak - they said he would not live.
But while the 65-year-old's recovery seems little short of miraculous, this was all due to the love and dedication of his wife.
Mrs Gertruda Grzebska, 63, refused to believe the doctors, and took him home to care for him herself. For the next 19 years, she turned him over every hour to ensure he would not get bedsores, fed him with a spoon, talked to him, and even insisted that he attend family gatherings.
The Associated Press quoted her as telling local daily Gazeta Dzialdowska: 'I would fly into a rage every time someone would say that people like him should be euthanised, so they don't suffer.'
Using an affectionate form of her husband's name, she said: 'I believed Janek would recover.'
Despite all her loving care, however, last October he developed pneumonia and was taken to hospital again. That proved to be a blessing in disguise, as his doctors saw signs of recovery and started intensive rehabilitation treatment.
Slowly, Mr Grzebski's awareness and speech returned to him. While he is still in a wheelchair, his doctor expects him to be walking again soon. 'This is my great reward for all the care, faith and love,' his wife told AP.
Meanwhile, her husband was amazed by the changes he saw the first time he was taken out for a walk in his home town of Dzialdowo in northern Poland.
Martial law has been lifted, the drab, grey streets he remembered are full of garish neon signs and billboards, and the communist ration queues have been replaced with queues at McDonald's.
'When I went into a coma there were only tea and vinegar in the shops, meat was rationed and huge petrol queues were everywhere,' he told Polish media last weekend.
But if there is one thing he can't understand, it's other people's negative attitudes. 'What amazes me today is all these people who walk around with their mobile phones and never stop moaning,' he said.
And despite being faced with such a mind-boggling array of changes, one thing impresses him more than anything else. Britain's Observer newspaper quoted him as saying: 'It was Gertruda who saved me, and I'll never forget it.'
May 27th, 2007
But I don't know. One thing for sure though - photos will be an alien concept in this particular LJ, because a) I don't own a digital camera and can't own a camera phone b) either would immediately break down if I ever appeared in its line of sight. I'll try to make up for the few thousand words lost, by typing more :)
If you didn't know already, I've been downgraded and for some disturbing reason, can't wait to be upgraded again at the end of this year. HQ RSAF is nice and all, and working at MINDEF is exactly what everybody says it is - just like working in an office, for the simple reason that it is an office building. No bunks, no cookhouse, no parade square... just a place where you go to work every day. But where's the sense of accomplishment in knowing you've done something extraordinary? Am I going to hold my head high and tell everyone for the rest of my life that I spent my NSF years as a clerk? Granted, a few President's Scholars, a certain Cabinet minister and an NMP were clerks, but for now I haven't achieved anything, if I ever will. I want to feel proud many years later, remembering and recounting how I ran around in muddy military uniform, feeling entirely dirty with my helmet swimming in sweat? Again, if only I'd made it to OCS.
So I didn't qualify for the three scholarships I applied for this year, despite talking their socks off when applying for two of them. But more to go next year, and hopefully I'll be even better next year. Perhaps I should give others some time to talk as well during the selection. The fact that I didn't probably came off as selfish. But were they expecting anything different when they designed selection rounds that totally screamed "WAYANG"? Meanwhile I'm going to accept both my places in Duke and NUS Law and pray that they're not in the habit of talking to each other. I just hope that, by some brilliant stroke of luck, everything works out for a very late bloomer. But better late than never. And congratulations to everyone who's got what they wanted. I hope to be joining you soon!
All the free time this year has allowed me space to think more seriously about what I really want to do for the next fifty years. Have I lost myself to the expectations of society and the conventional definition of Singaporean success? I can't spend my life living somebody else's dreams and conforming for the sake of recognition. Until two years ago I'd never even heard of scholarships, and my history prior to that clearly shows it. When and why did I start feeling the pressure, or even the obligation, to try and get one? Just because everybody's trying for it too and beating them to it would be some form of success?The concept seems as ridiculous as it is disturbing on hindsight. And there is no greater tragedy than spending your only life, your only window of existence and consciousness, living out someone else's definitions.
If you didn't know already, I've been downgraded and for some disturbing reason, can't wait to be upgraded again at the end of this year. HQ RSAF is nice and all, and working at MINDEF is exactly what everybody says it is - just like working in an office, for the simple reason that it is an office building. No bunks, no cookhouse, no parade square... just a place where you go to work every day. But where's the sense of accomplishment in knowing you've done something extraordinary? Am I going to hold my head high and tell everyone for the rest of my life that I spent my NSF years as a clerk? Granted, a few President's Scholars, a certain Cabinet minister and an NMP were clerks, but for now I haven't achieved anything, if I ever will. I want to feel proud many years later, remembering and recounting how I ran around in muddy military uniform, feeling entirely dirty with my helmet swimming in sweat? Again, if only I'd made it to OCS.
So I didn't qualify for the three scholarships I applied for this year, despite talking their socks off when applying for two of them. But more to go next year, and hopefully I'll be even better next year. Perhaps I should give others some time to talk as well during the selection. The fact that I didn't probably came off as selfish. But were they expecting anything different when they designed selection rounds that totally screamed "WAYANG"? Meanwhile I'm going to accept both my places in Duke and NUS Law and pray that they're not in the habit of talking to each other. I just hope that, by some brilliant stroke of luck, everything works out for a very late bloomer. But better late than never. And congratulations to everyone who's got what they wanted. I hope to be joining you soon!
All the free time this year has allowed me space to think more seriously about what I really want to do for the next fifty years. Have I lost myself to the expectations of society and the conventional definition of Singaporean success? I can't spend my life living somebody else's dreams and conforming for the sake of recognition. Until two years ago I'd never even heard of scholarships, and my history prior to that clearly shows it. When and why did I start feeling the pressure, or even the obligation, to try and get one? Just because everybody's trying for it too and beating them to it would be some form of success?The concept seems as ridiculous as it is disturbing on hindsight. And there is no greater tragedy than spending your only life, your only window of existence and consciousness, living out someone else's definitions.
May 13th, 2007
the perfect words never crossed my mind,
'cause there was nothing in there but you.
'cause there was nothing in there but you.
April 25th, 2007
"Real accomplishment is something rarely glamorous or ecstasy-filled: It comes from steady, reliable effort over time; a never-ending fight against ignorance and laziness; the cultivation of productive habits . . .; and the building up of skill and experience by constant effort."
- Steve Salerno, "Pumped for Nothing: Motivational speakers are everywhere. What are they really saying?" Wall Street Journal, May 8, 1998, p. W11
April 14th, 2007
This guy's walkin' down a street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, "Hey you! Can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole, and moves on. Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole; can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can ya help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are ya stupid? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before and I know the way out."
- Leo McGarry, The West Wing
April 1st, 2007
Feel rejected after getting rejected? Please hear my story
http://talk.collegeconfidential.com/show
http://talk.collegeconfidential.com/show
I applaud you kids. From the postings of your astronomical GPA's and eye-popping SAT scores, I say America has a bright future. Yet, some of you kids need to have your priorities set straight. Let me tell you guys my story. I'm 23 years old now, so I have already finished walking the college tightrope. Well, I'll be frank; I'e never even sent an application. Why, you say to yourself, this guy must be some good-for-nothing, welfare-using bum. How can one person choose not go to college? Does he not have any ambition? I do have ambition, I've just not had the financial resources to sustain a collegiate endeavor. I love my mom and pops; I don't deserve their unbreakable love and support. However, back then I thought my parents owed me something. Why couldn't they be smart and afford my college tuition too? I was a brat, a snot-nosed brat who had one whipping too little. I was forced to make do with my diploma. The highest paying company that hired me was, of course, the recruit-starved U.S Army.
I hoped to get a computer job, but with only a diploma, my butt was headed for Iraq. In Iraq, I have been shot at, cursed at (in three different dialects too!), and spat on. On a patrol of Najaf, I saw a Hummer in front of me get ripped to shreds by an IED. 2 men, I believe both were husbands with children, died in that vehicle; one person lost a foot. I was assigned to be in that vehicle, but the turret gunner on the second Hummer had a bad case of the flu. I volunteered to take his place. To this day, I thank whatever God is out there for sparing my life. However, this was nothing to what the Iraqis been through. You kids complaining about Hamlet? These kids are walking to school in constant danger of getting kidnapped, raped, incapacitated, and blown-up, all in succession. My treatment seems like a poorly executed wedgie compared to the hell these kids been through. Crying and whining about your rejection letter from Yale and Stanford? These kids would give their right arms (some have already did) to just attend a normal high school.
I remember a time when I was on a foot patrol in Baghdad. We were resting by a dirt-cracked soccer field where a couple of kids were playing. We probably stopped for only 5 minutes, but during those 5 minutes the kids seem to play with more vigor. They were yelling, laughing, and tackling each other. As soon as we were about to leave, one of the future soccer studs yelled out "Thanks for safety." When was the last time you people thanked your parents for giving you a roof over your head, four sturdy walls around you, and a comfortable bed to sleep in?
I remember responding to a recent car bomb at a crowded marketplace. You might have heard of it on the news...50 people dead, mostly women with their children. So you got rejected from UCLA? At least you didn't lose your mom. Or dad. Or your life. At least you don't have the danger of being slaughtered while going to Safeway.
I remember getting what hopefully was my only kill in Iraq. Two insurgents were pretending to surrender to lure me out of my vehicle. Their glocks were in poor quality, so their crucial first shots were wild. I'm pretty sure I was the first that fired. And I'm pretty sure I emptied a 3 round burst into the chest of a human. To this day, I try to reason with myself over this event. He tried to kill me, I had to defend myself. Some of you kids may wish to kill that teacher who gave you that "dreaded" B+. Trust me, I know all of you are kidding, but killing a human is nothing to joke about. You have to live with the guilt...Was he a brother? Or maybe he had a bright future in music? Did he have a sweetheart back at home? You snuffed out someone's dreams, and you have to live with that your whole life. Thankfully, a squad-mate wounded the other insurgent. I don't know what I'll do if I killed two people.
My time in Iraq changed me. That hellish sandbox may have almost killed me more times than I can count, but I'm grateful for the lessons it taught me. I by no means recommend ANY of you join the army, but I hope that you guys could take something from this story. The end is not near if Brown rejected your 4.5 GPA. There's always another college out there. Work hard, and you will get into the graduate school of your choice (which is what most jobs look at anyways). Me? I'm currently earning my degree in Material Science at an UC. It's not Berkeley, it's not LA, but I was in tears after arriving on campus. People were giving me funny looks, but I didn't care. I would like to conclude this long post, or rant, with a quote from a person many of you strive to be. As Bill Gates once said "There are many paths to heaven."
I hoped to get a computer job, but with only a diploma, my butt was headed for Iraq. In Iraq, I have been shot at, cursed at (in three different dialects too!), and spat on. On a patrol of Najaf, I saw a Hummer in front of me get ripped to shreds by an IED. 2 men, I believe both were husbands with children, died in that vehicle; one person lost a foot. I was assigned to be in that vehicle, but the turret gunner on the second Hummer had a bad case of the flu. I volunteered to take his place. To this day, I thank whatever God is out there for sparing my life. However, this was nothing to what the Iraqis been through. You kids complaining about Hamlet? These kids are walking to school in constant danger of getting kidnapped, raped, incapacitated, and blown-up, all in succession. My treatment seems like a poorly executed wedgie compared to the hell these kids been through. Crying and whining about your rejection letter from Yale and Stanford? These kids would give their right arms (some have already did) to just attend a normal high school.
I remember a time when I was on a foot patrol in Baghdad. We were resting by a dirt-cracked soccer field where a couple of kids were playing. We probably stopped for only 5 minutes, but during those 5 minutes the kids seem to play with more vigor. They were yelling, laughing, and tackling each other. As soon as we were about to leave, one of the future soccer studs yelled out "Thanks for safety." When was the last time you people thanked your parents for giving you a roof over your head, four sturdy walls around you, and a comfortable bed to sleep in?
I remember responding to a recent car bomb at a crowded marketplace. You might have heard of it on the news...50 people dead, mostly women with their children. So you got rejected from UCLA? At least you didn't lose your mom. Or dad. Or your life. At least you don't have the danger of being slaughtered while going to Safeway.
I remember getting what hopefully was my only kill in Iraq. Two insurgents were pretending to surrender to lure me out of my vehicle. Their glocks were in poor quality, so their crucial first shots were wild. I'm pretty sure I was the first that fired. And I'm pretty sure I emptied a 3 round burst into the chest of a human. To this day, I try to reason with myself over this event. He tried to kill me, I had to defend myself. Some of you kids may wish to kill that teacher who gave you that "dreaded" B+. Trust me, I know all of you are kidding, but killing a human is nothing to joke about. You have to live with the guilt...Was he a brother? Or maybe he had a bright future in music? Did he have a sweetheart back at home? You snuffed out someone's dreams, and you have to live with that your whole life. Thankfully, a squad-mate wounded the other insurgent. I don't know what I'll do if I killed two people.
My time in Iraq changed me. That hellish sandbox may have almost killed me more times than I can count, but I'm grateful for the lessons it taught me. I by no means recommend ANY of you join the army, but I hope that you guys could take something from this story. The end is not near if Brown rejected your 4.5 GPA. There's always another college out there. Work hard, and you will get into the graduate school of your choice (which is what most jobs look at anyways). Me? I'm currently earning my degree in Material Science at an UC. It's not Berkeley, it's not LA, but I was in tears after arriving on campus. People were giving me funny looks, but I didn't care. I would like to conclude this long post, or rant, with a quote from a person many of you strive to be. As Bill Gates once said "There are many paths to heaven."
