:: are there angels or devils crawling here? ::

:: Monday, June 30, 2003 ::

ok the holidays are over.
Now you die, michael. Now you die, you fucked-up lowlife fool.

The June holidays were short.
Not short, short.
Fast. Abrupt.
Like, you know, like when your life flashes before your eyes?

i barely managed to do that bit of work. And it was only the Sunday night just before the start of school when Kwan gave me a 180 million volt electrical shock. That actually saved my life. He offered me a gentle reminder that there would be two E1 essays for Creffield to be handed up tomorrow.
At that point i just finished a history essay. and was rather pleased with myself. For michael, it is quite a feat. And in my defence, i truly genuinely forgot. Forgot to remember as well as forgot to ask, as well as forgot to find out. i am very capable of accomplishing these things at just the wrong moment.
So when i received my voltage for dinner, i was considerably upset.
upset.

But for once fate twisted just nicely. The first day of school coincided with my medical check-up for NS. i suddenly had one more day's grace.
i must admit, it was really out of character for The Boss to be nice.
But then as is my belief: Good moments are but preludes to bad times. So that the bad would feel worse.
God is wise.

The check-up was a 4hr, dragged out event. The vocational assessment at the last station was as bleah as bleah can be.
And for the blood test i got my fingers punctured three times before the newbie medic managed to get his 2ml of blood. i wondered if i had some form of low-blood pressure centralised in my fingers. Or if my heart has indeed stopped beating four years ago. Or maybe the medic didn't like my face. Some guy named Jeremy-something gave me something to laugh at. His urine test revealed that he was taking drugs. Not may-cause-drowsiness drugs. Drugs as in you-wanna-get-high. He either snorted his brain particles away or he intended to do some extended self-searching somewhere-usually locked-up. His test colors turned up positive for abuse, and the officer went: 'And you just waltzed in here?'
If ever there would be people who walk into shit, it would be druggies. Amen.
That was hilarious. Vishal was there and he saw it too.
But i got one thing i wanted. i got my Pes A!
Hell yeah.
Pes A.
Hell yeah.
i can't believe the officer actually decided to give me a Pes A. i was so sure a C was coming my way with my knee problems. If i got a B i'd be whooping. But an A! Hot damn. If i pull off the 12 week BMT without tearing my knee, i could be going OCS!!!
Dear Lord. i know irony is fun. But please allow me this. i have seldom asked You for anything. Now i ask You give me strength.

i just returned from dinner. my parents and i engaged in some intellectual conversation.
Which involves a lot of silence.
They were rather upset with my opinions on things. its nothing new. My opinions are radical and foolsih at best. In particular. they insisted on their idea that the Singaporean educational system was a channel that promised a secure and bright future.
Fact: Only 64% of the Arts graduates in Singapore find jobs. i have mentioned this before somewhere. And those employed are mainly teachers.
University graduates are flooding the labor market in Singapore, and many do not even have a job. Those who do are mostly paid far below the expected salary of graduates. Educated workers are increasing as unemployment is rising. A graduate who has spent over 14 years in the educational system says "Welcome to McDonald's, ma'am" everyday.
"Would you like an upsize?"
"That would be $5.30, ma'am"
"Thank you. Enjoy your meal. -Welcome to McDonald's, Sir."
And the Singapore government, in a calculated move, injects money into the economy by developing self-automated train systems. This is in a bid to increase employment.
it started because i wondered if university was a requirement for me. Many successful and wealthy Singaporeans never went to college.
My mother has quite a set of beliefs. She believes that studying just for the sake of getting a job in the future is demeaning the value of knowledge. High-handed words there. She also believes that with a complete education, one is successful in life already. She also thinks that if i wish to go overseas, its because i cannot handle the stress of the educational system in Singapore and therefore i am running from it. She thinks that people leaving Singapore in search of a less stressful lifestyle are cowards who cannot face challenges.
i have quite a bit to say about that. But i'm tired and i can't be bothered with her.

Maybe i will return to this point when my mum starts to piss me off again.

:: Michael 6/30/2003 07:39:00 AM [+] ::
...

The bhangra performance on Saturday for the AFUA Liquorice event was rather a disappointment for me.
Jas, Kwan, Shaun and i only gathered at 5pm the day before for a one-time-only session to learn the dance. It didn't turn out to be quite as hard as i thought, seeing as we know quite a bit of bhangra already. Learning it was alright. What sucked for me was to remember and ingrain the dance into my damn head.
The dance is a medley of two songs, about 7 to 8 minutes. Darshan was 5. So quite a bit more.
Bhangra's always a hell of fun though. That's until i tore my weak knee again. 'Tore' is good enough a word that acutely depicts how the experience feels everytime it happens. But it suggests a permanent incapacitation that was not the case. Because i was up dancing again 20 minutes later. Yet whatever the word choice may be, when it happened i just crumpled unto the floor like a fucked up idiot.
Fuck.

We had a few run-throughs on the day itself at the Sikh Center. But for me it was rather inadequate. Jas, Kev and Shaun seemed pretty ready, but i'd be much more confident if only i had a couple more. but we had to go.
At Suntec the three of us manjans had to wear the flashy headgear without the appropriate turban. Thought i looked like a portugese clown. Or Dutch. For some obscure reason i actually went with Shaun and paraded around the area. To say we attracted attention would be a bad joke.
The day seemed set for problems. We had expected a large circular stage. What we got was sorely different. There was barely enough space for the eight of us to stand and flap our arms. The stagefloor was laced with wires that grinned like damn booby traps. And we were encroached by equipment and people.
The dance started out well enough. but i tripped over a wire and kicked a speaker consecutively and things went downhill for me at that point. i fumbled and missed some beats and basically fucked up.
i'm a fucking embarrassment to the others.

Then somehow the people actually wanted an encore. i wonder on that. Fact be, i just wanted to get my ass the fuck outta there. But we tried Darshan. Then the damn DJ screwed up. The music went into loops and we had to repeat the moves like .gif animations. And the DJ was just looking on like a dumbhead like it was all part of the show.

Still want to thank those who came in support, though. It was a real boost to our morale. The flashy headstuffs don't look as silly with friends about.
Thanks again.

Tomorrow's the start of Art Camp. Something to look forward to.
But then that means its back to school after that.
i am so fucked.
i conveniently forgot about school and all its related responsibilities.
i am so fucked.
bleah.
.


:: Michael 6/23/2003 07:33:00 PM [+] ::
...

Finalized this quite some time ago.
Just that i'm still tentative about the title.
So presently i'll name it 'The Beer Song' until something better actually pops up.
heh.


The Beer Song

thank you Lord, 'cos its Friday night
let's walk the streets and pick a fight
or maybe not
maybe we just sit
talk a little, drink a bit
and i don't want no champagne or wine
'cos beer for me will do just fine
and if you are a friend of mine
then follow me as i lose my mind

* sweet sweet beer drown my bitter tears
i don't wanna see the world in clear
and take me far far away from here
and Drink, till the stars appear
Drink, till i disappear

do me a favor don't ask me why
there's alchohol in my eyes
you don't need to ever know
the bottle of my sorrow
and i'm not drunk just a little high
so sink with me into the sky
'cos its a beautiful thing to share
this celebration of despair

*

'cause i know how it feels like
and i think you know it too
'cos you said you've been there
and you've put it behind
so i guess i'm okay then
i guess i'll be fine
since you can do so
then so can i

so can i.

* to fade.

-michael chng

.
:: Michael 6/18/2003 07:19:00 AM [+] ::
...

To the living we owe respect
But to the dead we owe only the truth
- Voltaire

NARC constitutes one of the best films i've ever watched. Its one of those films that probably would not get to see Oscar or Academy, and is just as proud of that.
NARC is at its most basic a cop story. A cop story gone so fucking wrong. An undercover agent in the drug underground is dead, and people want to know things. The Bureau just wants to close the file asap without too much of the obligatory hooha. Henry Oak, played to intense dedication by Ray Liotta, wants to know who killed his partner. Nick Tellis, powerfully portrayed by Jason Patric, wants to know why- Why he's doing this for someone he never met; why he's suddenly back on the force with a case in his hands after a freak chase in the streets of Detroit that almost cost him his badge; and of course, why Michael Calvess should have a bullet blown into his head.
Powerful, powerful film.
For his real debut into Hollywood, Joe Carnahan shows amazing experience and skill as a writer-director. Creativity too. His use of the handheld camera brings new meaning to the setting of pace and setting the grit down. Usually handhelds don't work well for films, except for those reality-TV thingies like COPS. Took guts too, to use the split-screen sequences. Watch out for more productions from this guy.
I give this film 92%. The 8% lacking probably for its lack of publicity.

Onto the bits of my life.
i'm feeling quite a bit of restlessness from the lack of studying. But too much nothing to do, what can i say.
Parents left for Australia last Friday. For a 10 day trip. i didn't leave on a jet plane because i told myself i had a lot of work to catch up on.
Ye-ah.
Had been really edgy when i sent them off at the airport. At the risk of sounding like a fucking dickless paranoid, i'd say that the year, and especially the last few months had been a one pile of stinking shit lined up one after another in my life. Just the day before i was in school when i saw Mr Ngoei, who blasted the fucking snot out of my ears. He dragged a really big file out of the office. The happened to be my history file. He said he found it left in the void deck after school, and in more colorful tones he told me it was mildly worrying. i hate talking about these things, and i hate explaining. So i didn't tell him that i wasn't in school on that last day. i didn't tell him either that i came to school specifically to get the master-key to the glass-room where i thought that exact same file would be. Hell i wouldnt' put my damn file in the void deck. The Boss is already doing a good job of fucking things up without my help.
Long story short. i worried for my parents, because no matter what they are still who i go home to. i worried that He would find this an opportunity to add another record pile of crap to my collection. And it had nothing to do with Friday the 13th. i don't believe in bad luck. i believe only in God.
i know shit happens for a reason. And that there are lessons. But this is one lesson i do not want to learn.

Saturday was Bhangra Night.
So it was Jas, Kev, Shaun, me and Cecile came too. We met KP outside Black Room but we could hardly get in. The anal-retentive measures prevented any under-18s from going in. So we had to settle for Rangoli in Clarke Quay.
Any boy, was Rangoli a bad settle.
i thought the place sucked. The dance floor was miniscule. The crowd there was crappy. The music was a fiasco. And the drinks were cheapskates. The bourbon shot Shaun and i went for was so full of alchohol we hardly finished it.
We were probably the only group doing some real dancing. At some point or another, people actually came into our circle and danced with us. The fact was, we came to a realization after the night that we actually knew almost none of them. Hilarious.
Left the place to grab some real drinks at a 7-11 nearby, at about 2.30am. Walking back, each with a Big Gulp in hand, we were just in time to see police vans unloading the men in blue. i think they raided Hooters, 'cause a crowd was suddenly on the streets outside of the pub surrounded by police. Then the Big Gulp Gang strolled back to Rangoli to find that the club, too, seemed to have been raided. We just took our seats at an out-of-the-way corner and watch some drama unfold. There were selected fights as the club got cleared. Which wasn't exactly smart considering the police is less than a sniff away. And they did come, the police, with batons flashing.
All in all, i'd say thats the last time i'm ever going to Rangoli.

And yesterday we threw a surprise birthday party for KP.
We actually managed to fool him. He was really surprised. Had him convinced we were going all the way to Costa Sands in Pasir Ris for a bhangra performance.
Had to leave quite early though, with Kev and Shaun. We happen to live on the other side of the island.

i'd write more, but i'm too bloody sleepy.
:: Michael 6/13/2003 08:57:00 AM [+] ::
...

The Jackal


What sign of the Black Zodiac are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Aye.
Never cared much for any zodiac bullshit. But i'm flattered.
:: Michael 6/13/2003 08:14:00 AM [+] ::
...

The June Hols.
Some much needed reprieve from everything. i've been guilty of sloth. Just spent the first few days of the holidays dilligently indulging in leisure.
And i'm currently an addict of a new drug on the undermarket called NBA Street Vol.2. What you do is you slot it in a device called the PS2, then hook yourself up with the thus named analog controller. Then you are stoned in front of a TV screen for the next millenia. Or until dinner.

Been retraining myself on basketball rather intensively. My aim is to not embarrass myself too much the next time i play ball, especially with Kevin and Jon. And then after i achieve that i'll go for NBA if i have time.

That was a joke.

Parents will be leaving for Australia and leaving me behind on Friday. Of all the times they would pick to go to a place where i always wanted to revisit, they had to pick the crucial time when i simply cannot allow myself to go. Well, i suppose it saves money.

Need to retrieve my things, especially my history files, from school. It should be in the glass room. Which poses a problem of how i'm going to get in there. Mr Dunn wouldn't be around for quite some time. So D-oh.

:: Michael 6/10/2003 08:34:00 AM [+] ::
...

Its just about been one full week without updates.
And my computer breaking down- again- would constitute as one of the reasons why.
Amongst many.

Was there at Mount Vernon for Esther's last service last Monday evening.
There either is a little too much or much too little that i can say about the event. Before the last service, people do talk about Esther. And they can only manage to say that she 'passed away', or 'went'. This day, however, they have to realize that Esther's dead. A painful experience. 'Dead' seemed such a crude way to describe Esther's passing, but 'dead' was something her friends needed to come to terms with.
i somehow felt detached and greyish. perhaps because i didn't know her well. Or perhaps i sought detachment.
i wondered why i find myself compelled to be there in the smallish hall packed with sombre people in a sombre mood. The pastor was a short, stocky lady. She's done this before, and her face had on an empathic benevolence as she went through the service in a business-like manner. She's done this before. Did she know Esther?
Did i know Esther?
Mrs Creffield said to me at one point of time, when i found myself looking at the smoke fleeing from the brick chimney. 'Its as much about our mortality as it is about immortality'.

Sunday (before Mt Vernon)
Mother wanted me to be active again in the cell groups in church.
Could have been a mistake on her part, because i did just that.
i always believed that one of the greatest sins was to break the Faith of others. Call me vile, but i sometimes find myself tempted to do just that.
Vile. So i tried to refrain from involvement in the religious discussions.
And it was... amusing. That people often like to ask 'why?'.
i suppose there are reasons. 'Everything happens for a reason.'
So- why did i drop a 20-cent coin when i picked up my wallet this morning? Why did a red-colored car pass by me on the road? Why did that leaf drop? Why is there smoke fleeing from the brick chimney?
i suppose there are reasons.

i was asked of an opinion.
So i said. For me, God works in such way that the ends justify the means. And if we cannot even fathom what God's ends are, what the hell's the point of asking about His means? If God decided to answer every 'why?' His believers put forth, He'd be losing votes. So why ask why? There are reasons, and the reasons are at best beyond us. There are reasons, but there are no 'why's.
Then one said: "the Bible never said that we shouldn't ask why. So i believe we can ask why."
"Ok. So why did God create the world?"
And please don't say because He loves us. We don't even know what love is.

Monday(just before)
Monday was the thus-named Religious Emphasis Day for ACJC.
Thought they would come up with something good.
Apparently not. What ensued was a horrific experience for both the students and teachers. A girl and her christian indie-rock band named Security got on stage and went on to fulfil the destruction of senses and minds. She's from campus crusade but she probably thinks she;s from EMI. An avid Avril Lavigne wannabe. As if Avril Lavigne was not wannabe enough. Her songs bordered on the inane. She had the cheek to pride herself on her ability to write her own songs. A 10 year old with a guitar can do just about as good if not better.
There was hardly any relevance to any form of religious emphasis. The entire school was cringeing their hearts out and possibly hoping she would notice. Miss J was covering her ears, Creffield was doodling on a notepad and the others were either amused, pissed or found some pressing engagements elsewhere. Inbetween the fucked-up croonings the band actually put up a skit.
A girl and a guy breaks up. "You don't love me anymore? But- but why?"
Aw, how sad.
Girl feels left out by friends, and is tormented by the universal villain, the Mum.
Aw, how sad.
Girl feels whole world is against her, and nobody understands her.
Aw, how sad.
But, girl finds God and lives happily ever after.
Aw.how sad.

Times like this i almost wish i was a muslim. Almost.
i'll let someone who really knows how to sing to comment on her vocal capacities- like Joy or Claire. Or even Shaun, the ex-choir boy.
Ridiculous.
More ridiculous: She sent out comments slips to everyone. She's either very brave or very very dumb. Here's a glimpse at my comments.
Favorite part of the concert(yes concert): The End.
Comments: If comments can hurt, mine would kill you.

i thought the comments slip was the last straw. But then she, seeing us as a great audience, offers yet another song!
Went nuts. i literally jumped in my chair. Which got a big ugly glare from madam.
But then later she told me, just before we set off for Esther's final service, that she wasn't quite as pissed as she looked. Or glared.
Just that the slap-singer's mother was sitting right next to me.
That blew me away.
What?

(more updates soon enough)

:: Michael 6/06/2003 07:48:00 AM [+] ::
...