Observing The World In (Almost) Utter Silence

Much to the collective relief of the population, the Universe had finally given me a whoop-ass by holding my voice hostage. For once, Calvin Magnus was put on silent mode, forced to vibrate violently each time I wanted to get my ideas across. I gotta say (and I believe some dare-I-say-unfriendly people would see eye-to-eye with me on this) it's kinda nice to shut up, or perhaps more specifically, to have a reason to shut up. (Does the previous sentence have a cynical overtone?) Yeah, it was cool to kinda just zip it: not talking to people unnecessarily, not having to reply people when my arsenal of witty comeback was exhausted, not having to entertain people when I didn't feel like it. It's like you could exist, yet observe, yet live, yet be in people's company, without having to labour and contribute to the social obligation of maintaining insipid conversations. Ok, this may come across more sardonic than intended, but what I am getting at is that it was nice to finally be on the receiving end, and to have an excuse (a tangible and physiological one at that) to be so. It was nice to see the world function independently, yet without having to remove oneself from the picture.

Another revelation, that was kinda fun, at least for me, was that: when you talk less, you listen more. Big surprise, huh? It's like when you talk, you see people's reaction in response to you comment (assuming that your comment is controversial/sarcastic/interesting/emotional/blahblahblah enough), and you do not really see the true person immanent in that respondent (respondee?). But in the absence of this prompt or external stimulus titillating such cerebrally-tainted spinal reflexes, people would have to dig deep into the sediments of their dormant personality and come up with things that are somewhat a true reflection of who they really are. Be it boring or interesting, it's highly intriguing to observe how some people haplessly struggle, how some blossom (unexpectedly on previously and seemingly barren personalities) and how some remain indifferent or ignorant. It's funny to see what they say and how they say it.

All the same, it's a bitch waking up in the morning with a knot in my throat. I also discovered that I've been surviving on fried food this whole time. (How can you not?) Anyway, this is another topic worth another blog post altogether. I need to rest more (so I've been told by self and others for the umpteenth time). My body is really crumbling to smithereens, and to fall ill now is a no-no. Shucks, I don't even have the brain power to type anymore. Anyhoo, sorry for an abrupt ending.

Ciao!

Lil Cynic's Candid Lil Crit

Bummer, I swear just about fifteen seconds ago I had this major major (ok, no really) stuff to verbal vomit about, but now once I'm actually trying to type it all out, ZILCH, NADA, NOTHING, KOSONG.

Ok, let's take it slowly— slowly, surely, steadily.

This post is not gonna be an ambush against the Cosmos, though it may still be mindless and trivial (I mean hey, nothing on this blog has ever been otherwise anw), but I've decided to cut Cosmos some slack because, as evidenced by the numerous stage performances I attended—which by right I should not have, for the simple reason that I was supposed to be mugging for my papers— the poor Cosmos has been publicly battered and decimated quite horribly. I can never really and truly understand stage performances that make this epic showcase of an attempt of hating the world, you know: frantic clamouring, unwarranted struggling, intense frown into the abyss, et cetera. First of all, how do you get the inspiration for that? Do you wake up one fateful morning and suddenly say to yourself 'Hey! I've decided to hate the world for 5 minutes on stage.' I mean, what? How? Again, disclaimer: I'm not saying that these sorta items are bad (who am I to judge, right?), in fact, and I say this with all sincerity and humility, they are beyond me-- at least, beyond the grasp of my intellectual capacity. All I'm saying is that they are just not my cup of tea, not my bread and butter.

Anyhoo, all this dubiousness (yes, dubiousness is actually word) brings me to the next point. WHAT IS UP WITH PREACHERS THESE DAYS? *pause for dramatic effect* Ok, I gotta say I can be one critical sonofabitch at times when it comes down to preachy preachy asking-for-a-slap stuff. *cough cough Mitch Albom with Tuesday with Morrie* I've been so for quite some time now. But, what is up with preachers not integrating logic in their sermons? I know religion and logic have had a bad break-up nong nong time ago, their current relationship much like that between me and floor work— these two things are just not meant to be put in the same pot. BUT SERIOUSLY. And this only happened last Sunday.

Here's the thing: first of all the preacher said: God is (for the lack of a better word) magic/miraculous because He has made many miracles. At this point, Calvin did step 1: nodded in approval and comprehension. Then the preacher said: look at Adam (the first man to walk the earth, or so they— I mean, the Bible says), Adam is made from dust and ashes, NOT through man and woman. Calvin repeated step 1. The preacher continued: look at Eve (the first lady of... the world), Eve is made from Adam's rib bone, she is made through MAN, and NOT woman. Calvin did step one, albeit now in anticipation for some ingenuous revelation at the end. The preacher then said: look at Jesus— insert summary of the nativity story— He is made from WOMAN, and not man. Calvin stayed quiet in anticipation. Suddenly, THAT'S WHY GOD IS MAGIC, GOD IS MIRACULOUS, GOD HAS MADE MANY MIRACLES, blah blah, et cetera. Calvin literally made a face and yelped a loud 'HARH?'

Calvin's friends laughed at this impulsive reaction.

Again, I am not questioning the credibility of the premises the preacher relied on. I did, and do agree that God is all in all, all that jazz, almighty, all-knowing, Alabama, Aljazeera, Al-Ameen. However, as a preacher, you can't and shouldn't make a point simply by raising your voice and acting all worked up and convincing when in substance you are not making an argument. There's no causal thread pulling your very first statement and your conclusion together. I'm saying all this not because I've the law-student mentality (please dun give me this crap). It's just basic common sense. If there's no sense, there's nothing. Without a point, an interpretation, an argument, you are merely stating the obvious. To a born-Christian like me (bold statement huh?), the whole service would just become meaningless— captured in the cliched one-liner: Tell me something I don't know.

It is this sorta explanation (or the lack thereof) that makes people like me who are edging on the religious-agnostic border wanting even more to jump to other side. The very basis of Christianity is, well, belief— which means faith, which essentially means (and dun go one a hate rampage on me for this) blind faith. There's nothing wrong with that, and especially to me, acceptance of such blindness is relatively easier because I was young and naive when I had it, or to put it in more cynical terms: I didn't know any better. However, in spite of all this, Christianity has develop its internal logic, through which we derive understanding and comfort that there's coherence in it, that everything is not fallacious and amorphous— or worse still, bogus. (Sorry, this last sentence looks like an extract from Boringtown University Journal.)

So, coherence, logic, good argumentation, or whatever you wanna call it, you cannot— and I repeat— cannot lose it. Help me help you to convince me that you are making sense, that there's something there immanent in this spiritual, religious belief— from which revelations after revelations may flow through a vessel that is you, the preacher— that a faithful-wanna-be like this dude right here, genuinely hungering for the Word of God, can latch onto. It's not about speaking in tongue. It's not about making people deaf with a loud voice. It's not about beautiful singing. It's not about long prayers. It's about understanding (or more specifically, trying to understand) Him. If I do my part right, so should you, no?

P.S. Believe it or not, this is not what I had in mind 15 seconds before I sat down.

Epistemically-closed Cognitively-open Transcendental-logical Autopoietic System

...

Need I say more?

I Have No Eyes

Hi. Hello there.

Can you see me? I'm here.

Excuse my question, you see, I can't see you.

I have no eyes.

Hi. My name is C-- C for Canvas.

I spend my days and nights in the studio,

lying on an easel.

It gets cold at times, but that's okay.

I'm okay.

Well, because, occasionally, people come into this

cold studio,

some stare at this blank canvas

for one to two seconds and then leave,

some stay-- for a while more.

It's rather funny, you see, because I can't see them.

I have no eyes.

But, I can feel them.

They're warm.

Out of these warm few who stay,

some are artists.

With a palette on the one hand,

and a paintbrush on the other,

they colour me.

I can't see what colours they put on me, you see, I can't see them.

I have no eyes.

But I can feel them,

painting colours on me.

Gentle dabs on one corner.

Pause.

Hard strokes on the other.

After some time, they stop.

But I know they're still there.

I can feel them.

I also know that the blank canvas is now

a wet canvas,

but to these rare artists,

the blank canvas is now

a masterpiece.

Chortling. Chuckling.

I wish

I can see what it is they see on me, you see, I can't see me.

I have no eyes.

Is there blue on me?

Why did you use blue?

Are you sad?

Blue is the colour of the sky, right?

Is there yellow?

The sound 'yellow' tickles me.

Does yellow mean you're happy?

As happy as the sun?

Now

I'm not lying on an easel anymore.

I'm hung on the wall.

I'm framed.

I'm a masterpiece. Your masterpiece.

Thank you.

Thank you, and you, and you, you, you, you... Wait!

Where are you going?

Don't go.

Oh, excuse my question, you see, I can't see you still.

I have no eyes.

But, I can feel you-- all of you.

You're warm.

Chortling. Chuckling.

I feel so dumb. I know you can't hear me.

I have no tongue.

I wish

I have eyes though, so that I can see.

See me.

See you.

Trip The Light Fantastic

First of all, don't ask me what the title is all about. I was poised by my idle thoughts to churn up something unique for the title of this post, and uninterestingly, the first word that came to mind was 'dance'. Ever-so-trying to be super cool and different I was, I consulted the thesaurus and guess what? This phrase means dance! So, yeah, err... not very interesting.

Actually at this very second, I am supposed to be assembling my arsenal of draconian arguments which I have to spam expediently, strategically and perhaps even cunningly on the day of my moots. However, I chanced upon my doppelganger's blog and just like that *finger snap*, I am thrown into this yet-another pensive mood. Sigh.

Sometimes I hate it that Fate has mould me into this good-boy persona in my family. Not that I mind, but really, I have always been that small boy who is... good; who instead of running around the neighbourhood chasing after frogs and dogs, decides to be cooped up in his own little corner swamped with comic books while secretly labouring to copy his maid's drawing of ducks, which to him is equivalent to the Mona Lisa; who instead of being that kid who has the audacity and the courage to throw away his lousy exam scripts into the gutter beside his house, ends up being the kid who partakes in the national physics olympiad (shocking huh?). Sometimes I hate it that my parents take so much pride in me.

Don't get me wrong, I can only feel ever-so-grateful that they feel the way they do. It's every child's dream (or at least, normatively and conventionally speaking, this should be the case) to make their parents happy and feel that they have successfully discharged their parental duties. Ok, fine, I don't hate it (capricious much?), but when these people whom you hold very dear to your heart treat you like a trophy, flaunt you to the left and to the right, you can't help but to end up having these self-imposed expectations on yourself. And kudos to my folks, they aced their attempt in imbuing such dare-I-say masochistic trait. Well, at least sometimes, particularly when my teenage hormones are bubbling through my veins such as now, I would take a step back and view my life at large, sadly, only to find this tendency to feel that the universe is ganging up on me surfacing.

Perhaps this is the reason why my soul is so aged? Gotta get a face-lift real soon! Chicken soup anyone? LOL. I don't really know what I want to get from venting out all this. I'm not even sure whether I would want to get anything back. Everyone has a motive in doing things, but that does not mean that everybody knows what that motive is, and whether that motive is actually too much of his own good. Perhaps I just feel like doing things that's unprecedented-- unprecedented by me, of course? Attempting to crumble my clampdown on things in my life-- to be less overreaching, less paranoid? OK, coherence level hitting the zero mark now. May be I want to stop being that kid who always colours inside the lines. May be I just want to colour the feathers of those ducks green, the beak red, the tail purple, and everything else black? How are these things connected again? Especially as regards the title? Discuss.

Apology if this has got a bit Freudian.

Chemistry For A Great Movie

Who knew that a story involving characters with ridiculous names like Toothless and Hiccup could make such a great movie? Yes, I'm talking about the latest Dreamworks movie: How To Train Your Dragon. It really has all the formulae to make a great movie. It's cliche, predictable and audience-friendly. It has clean and harmless romance, it talks about friendship and family values-- specifically the most fragile of all family relationship, that between father and son. (Whoa, oversharing much?) Nevertheless, even though after only ten minutes you could already expect all the twists and turns in the story line (and yes, I did, especially since it was alarmingly similar to Avatar *cough cough*), the movie was enjoyable still.

Perhaps it's the fatigue of a long day spent performing in front of motley crowd of strangers, who thankfully were appreciative of our effort, that makes the movie especially relaxing. You know, when you watch a movie, especially brainless ones like this animation movie, they sort of do the thinking for you. So what you need to do is to relish those small, digestible bits that they throw at you as the story develops. Or perhaps it's the amazing predictability of the plot that turns the whole experience into a guessing game. Guess what happens next? AH HUH! I knew it! Or perhaps the movie provides a mode of escape from reality, an experience where we are whisked into this world of dragons and vikings. We are given the kind assurance that no matter how shitty and complicated things may turn around, everything is gonna be back to normal and a happy ending is a must-have and a will-be.

Actually, the last proposition is unlikely considering the uncanny resemblance the movie has with reality. Well, not everything and every character are the same as reality, we don't have a pet dragons that take us high up into the galaxies. But there were several things which, against my better judgment, I involuntarily picked up which sort of ruined my fantastical journey into the land of the vikings. It was rather distracting-- it caused some jarring effects which made the supposed-to-be seamless and fluid enjoyment of the movie less than satisfactory. LOL. I'm sorry I'm speaking in cryptic. If it appears as if I'm beating around the bush, running around in circle like a headless chicken and maneuvering around, selecting my words carefully so that I manage to put my point at some level of generality that makes it rather difficult to figure out and grasp-- and thus the ambiguity creates the impression that this point applies to every single issue that there exists in the world-- in addition to this complex and unending sentence that follows, well, that's because I am. LOL.

Anyhoo, the ending of the movie is particularly delicious. I was sorta hoping that the main character, Hiccup, would die so that this meant-for-children movie would not be your typical mean-for-children movie. But it didn't happen, instead (WARNING: SPOILER ALERT! IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE MOVIE AND INTEND TO DO SO, CLOSE THIS PAGE NOW!) he lost his left foot, which made him exactly like his pet dragon, Toothless, who had been handicapped in the very beginning of the movie when he lost his left tail wing. Now, the foot pedal thing which he uses to control Toothless when he rides him is linked to his iron foot (think pirates!), which is soober cool because it kinda reflects the strengthened bond between them. Last time it was like a left human foot on a metal pedal, now it's like an iron foot on a metal pedal, perfect match. You get the imagery? Isn't it just scintillatingly poignant? LOL.

Ok, now I need to do my blocking! :( Expresses fatigue and unwillingness. Rolls eyes. Expects hours of twitching in own seat and listening to the same song over and over and over again. Commits painless suicide.

P.S. Happy birthday! LOL.

FLiCKERHOLIC

To begin this foreseeably long post, I would like to apologise for the delay in writing this (again) foreseeably emo post. With the terror of my assignment looming from a 48-hour distance, I had to pay my dues to Lady Justice first before I could bask in the joy of the victory. Not to mention that there was her distant cousin twice-removed, Mr Sandman, who had been badgering me for months already. So yes, when Reality hit hours after the competition ended, she hit with BANG! in all the wrong places. @_@

Moreover, I decided to 'swallow' my very verbal vomit, a.k.a my previous post, because... well, I don't know. Somehow, upon reflection, it just didn't sit right with me because this blog is not protected. And yes, I gotta admit that my technologically challenged mind is incapable of getting around this mesh of virtual network so as to find a way to privatise this blog. (Another long sentence, courtesy of your truly!) Not that I'm ashamed of me past, I think it's quite entertaining actually. Ok, to illustrate my uneasiness: it's like watching American Pie with your parents around. You know what I mean? Like, you watch American Pie all the time, and you're not ashamed of people knowing that you watch American Pie-- not even if your parents know. However, if in the excitement of watching it (no pun intended), all of the sudden, your Ma and Pa walked in on you, it would a bit... eh, weird? I dunno, I guess it's just me. I would therefore apologise to those whose minds have been gravely scarred by the grotesque images in that post. And for those who were lucky enough and didn't read it, you have just been spared the trauma of TMI-ness. (TMI-ness, the splendour of my vocabulary.)

OK, let's cut to the case. FLiCKERHOLIC! ("Flickers") First and foremost, I would like to express my sincerest gratitude for every single one of you. Thank you for putting up with me and my rather annoying idiosyncrasies. Thank you for allowing me to persuade/pressure/trick you into agreeing with my ludicrous, superficial and 'what-the-FLICK-did-he-say?- concept. I am uber thankful that you all grew to like the concept. (Do you now? :) ) I am very very thankful that you were willing to overcome your initial reservations and doubts, and decide to plunge forward into this dubious mess, then built up on it, neaten it up and make wonders with it.

I knew that but for this concept, you guys would probably be able to put more 'you' into the item. I apologise for having to put you in a situation where-- by peer pressure or not-- you have to be contented containing your creative muses in a small, well, container. I'm sorry that instead, you have to grapple with my style of choreography, whatever it is, because by reason of the concept, you can't do what you do best. If I was sick of my own choreography, I could only imagine how you must have felt. To be honest, I was--- and am still-- so so eager to learn more from you guys, your eclectic styles and motley interpretations of the music. Should opportunities (plural, yes) present themselves in the future, I really wished to learn more you.

Truth be told, I was not feeling it days before the competition. Haha. I think it was the stress. We were in a hot mess, there were mountains of school work which we all had to do, schedules were clashing like some sort of bumper-car frenzy AND, to top it all off, the item was stuck at chapter 5 where it was supposed to reach chapter 10 by that time. So, I applaud you guys for putting up with it all, with me especially. You guys are real superstars. If I pressed the wrong buttons during that period of time, I genuinely apologise.

So now, am I to make individual comments? @_@

Queen Bee

I thank you for everything, and am thankful for you, my clone! LOL. It's been amazing working with you. The thing that I really admire you for is that once you dip your foot in the water, you don't hesitate to dive in completely when the need be. You put Flickers first, your life second. Not many people have the ability and willingness to do this, and you are certainly a rare find. Thanks for being the constant voice of pragmatism when it comes to brainstorming. I know at times I have lofty ideas, but you always anchor them back to reality. Truly, an invaluable asset to the team. Thanks for stepping out of your comfort zone and hold center (remarkably at that!) for most parts of the item. I mustn't have been easy, but you shone like a Queen!

DJ Shaggar

Another trooper in the group! Thank you for sticking by it through the thick and thin! I know in addition to Flickers, you had other drama that you had to contend with. However, never you gave up. Speaking of comfort zones, with respect to you and the new sets of dance choreography, it was tantamount to putting a Japanese in Jamaica. LOL. Again, never you gave up. Honestly, I think you can do jazz funk pretty well, minus your looking-up you'd be perfect! :) Haha. NOT TO FORGET, you amazing ear for mixing transitions! *BOW DOWN* With such lousy a technology (Windows Movie Maker), you could really create seamless transitions from one song to another. That's talent with capital T, for sho! Lastly, I really hope that after this competition, you are not discouraged from choreographing! Your choreography is nice! Dun ever let other people tell you otherwise, especially YOURSELF! :)

NikkarooNKR

Ms Boom-boom-ka-POW! Thank you for your amazingness (again, not a word...) and not despising my dancing! Haha. For you, I think more so than for everybody else, this whole odyssey is like an emotional roller coaster. No smooth sailing indeed. I thank you for bouncing back each time a blow was swung your way. It was clearly not easy to cope with the hectic schedule, but you managed to make things flow swimmingly. I genuinely think that if you wanna dive into the dance industry, you really really have a shot. You have a distinct style and performance quality (evidenced by the fb pics) that lights up the stage. Do NOT ever dull your shine for whatever reason ok!!! You're one of those people from whom I could learn a thing or two (or ten?). :))

Arkenxin

I thank you for really really contending with the whole Flicker-ing frenzy that always intensified days nearing to the competitions (heats, semis, finals). I do think-- and I think others would concur with me-- that you are improving at lightning speed. It must have come as a huge surprise to you the amount of time that we ended up putting into the competition. I mean, it surprised me. So, if you have someone who is having her first competition, dealing with dance styles with which she is not familiar, yet is still persistent, crunching it together with rest of the team, what else can you ask for from her? Thanks for tanking the feedback that at times, I know, must not have been easy to hear. I really warmed my heart when I saw you consciously tried to change your muscle memory, especially when I saw you, we were practising my part. It's really these little things that count. :)

Chu Leong

Thanks for not minding working with us, immature JC kids, for the competition, Mr BBoy Santa! LOL. Thanks for lightening up the mood during practices with your goofing around! *reminiscing the so-many-hands-so-many-hands video* And, WOW, you know make-up! Like WOW! I owed my tranny look to you! Haha. But really, you really know how to glam things up-- the shoes, the make-up, the back-combing! LOL. You're like a comprehensive package one should never forget when one wants to join a dance performance/competition. Seriously, one of the strongest pillars holding the item and the team together. Hopefully, I can learn more from you in the future because there's wealth of creative talent bubbling somewhere there which, I think, even you haven't tapped into. Can't wait to see it erupt, and fly out in the open! :)

Sneaky Z

MY GOD! You're like a new man (or woman?)! You, you, you surprised me, in the good way! Like WOW! DUN ever feel that you're inferior! Really, the crowd cheered for you countless times not because of the golden headband! There's talent there! The waacking part waacked my sox off! I think you really have a flair for it. LET'S TAKE waacking classes together! AND I THREATEN YOU TO COME TO NUS AND JOIN BLAST!!! Must come ok! You'll be like the sickest junior by then!!! It's been a pleasure (not in the gross kinda sense) working with you! Thanks for laughing convulsively at me and my unglam moments! Ehleee~ehleee~ehleee! LOL. On a personal note, I think you show those people who doubted you before a run for their money! Can you say: 'in your FACE!' :)

Ok, I'm running out of words (Haha!) and tired. Thank you so so much, FLiCKERHOLIC!