I still feel very guilty for making her scan those worksheets for me again T.T

I seriously owe her. So Hui Ting, if you are reading this, I love you in the purely platonic way friends love each other. And I'm sorry ><

I will offer to help you do your picture discussion if you want...

Whew! I finally managed to finish the stupid Chinese zhouji. Being sucky in Chinese, I had to take the extra step of writing something down in English before translating it to Chinese.


I must be a pretty shitass translator, because the 245-word English tidbit more than doubled to become 600 words in Chinese. This goes to show how puerile and childlike my command of the Chinese language is, such that I can’t even describe abstract ideas with one word.



I am ashamed to say that translating it and re-copying it onto my composition pad took me all of today. *red-faced* Little kids reading this, please don't neglect your chinese so you can finish a shitty chinese composition in 2 hours, tops, not *stops to count* 5 hours...



YES I TOOK FIVE BLOODY HOURS TO DO THAT DAMNED THING SO HEDACHENG BETTER APPRECIATE IT OR ELSE I AM GONNA SLAP HIM WITH THE ENGLISH VERSION.



But slapping him with a piece of char siew is funnier. Meh. It's difficult to be angry, the choices you have to make just to slap someone!



If he fails me I am going to submit an english piece as a joke.



Maybe in Shakespearean language while I am at it...Hmm...



Speaking of Shakespeare, I haven't done that art review on Much Ado About Nothing. I suppose I really am not an auditory person because my attention kept wandering. However, if they had given me a script, maybe I would enjoy it so much more.



Like Midsummer Night's dream. I enjoyed it because I am familiar with the script, but the atmosphere was a little too conducive because it micmicked my sleeping environment a little too well. Minus the people in costumes prancing around though, but I must say what goes on in my head stays in my head, lest everyone is swayed by the awesome powers of isomnia I have.



I shall now do my last jian bao. God I hate those damned things.



P.S. I bought a classic for $4.90! That is incredibly cheap considering the average price is $26. Okay, fine, it was a Penguin Classic, but I like cheap classics that go easy on the wallet and great on the mind. The Scarlet Letter, one more notch on my brainpost!

Dear Health minister:

Screw you.

Didn't your mother tell you it isn't nice to toy with women's hearts?

Today you made me so happy, I thought that I was truly blessed to have a health minister as capable as yourself. Later, you cruelly broke my heart when you went behind my back and announced you weren't going through with your initial plan.

Well, needless to say, I am pissed. AND HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED!

Let me tell you something, monkeyface. You do NOT raise people's hopes up by saying that you will extend their holidays, and then crush it by being a pansy and saying you won't go through it.

While I understand the significant impact of it on my schoolwork, allow me to be a typical obdurate teenager and extend my goddamn holidays so you and your stinky government can collect more taxes from us as we spend.

GST, remember?

I have a plan for revenge.

I will sleep with my hair wet tonight and get a flu, and the next day I will dress up in a biohazard suit, venture close to the minister's office, and give you a !SNEEZEsurprise. The security will not pull me away from you, rather, they will be cowering in the corner cos I threatened to sneeze on them if they do.

You will be completely defenceless, unless you have a team of sanitizers and tamiflu administrators all decked out in white, but I doubt you would want to blow your salary on that type of security.

I will then smile savagely and wipe my snot on your perfectly immaculate business suit, and then I will proceed to christen every surface of your office with my germs until you promise to extend the holidays. You will realise the awesome power of me - er, flu and panic! Mwahahahahah!

So anyway, if I don't get you, every single student in Singapore will be making effigies of you and curse you. One of their voodoo dolls will be effective. So you watch out! Owe holidays pay holidays!

Tata, darling, You'd better be vaccinated with tamiflu.

---------

In case you don't get it, the above is a joke. I don't think I would be able to get into the minister's office for peanuts, but the possibilities...

I have a raging chocolate craving. Mars Bars to be specific. Yummy nougat and caramel oooh I love caramel, nevermind the poor quality chocolate wrapping those up...

Okay. I looked at the circular for the mentorship programme and the deadline for submission is 1st of July.

*gasps dramatically, wriggling on the floor like a cruicio'd caterpillar before turning to Corner Of Woe*

I am so dead. How am I going to get approval + recommendation from the teacher?

DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDEADED.

And I have to put in at least ONE new piece...which I am sure will suck. A lot. Suck major a$$, considering the caliber of my writing recently. I can barely get a coherent sentence out, for goodness' sake! And I forgot the definition of a fucking metaphor. Yes even though I am a literature student I have time and time again forgotten what a metaphor is. Oh, the shame! The humiliation!

I mean, if a metaphor is used to represent something and is something like a simile, what makes it different from a symbol?

ARGH.

And how on EARTH do I classify my work? It's not poetry, it's not prose, it's a freak combination! OH NOES! IT'S A FRANKENSTEIN!

ARGHHHHHHH. It's too long to be poetry and too poetry-like to be prose. Because in prose, you don't have imagery (unless you are a descriptive writer), and most of the stories are implicit and narrative (no surreal ones like poetry where what is said is not the message but rather the message is between the lines).

OMFG.

I need a theme for my new portfolio. The last one I used was 'Human experience (momento mori)', the failed one was 'bleakness of life' (I bet the judges then didn't really like my pessimistic and angsty ramblings), and now what? GAH!

Books I want:

Lit books:

Invitation to a Beheading by Vladimir Nabokov
1984 by George Owell
Animal Farm by George Owell
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Requiem for a Dream by Hubert Selby, Jr.
Lolita by Nabokov (again!)
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley [in progress]
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Escape From Paradise by John Hardling and May Chu (set in Singapore)
Abraham's Promise by Philip Jeyaretnam
Wuthering Heights
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
Phantom of The Opera by Gaston Leroux
Gone with the Wind by Magaret Mitchell [didn't like the excerpt though]
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy {The thickness and tiny text is intimidating though}
And read Hemingway. Must. Read.

Discussive books / feminism:

A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: with Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects by Mary Wollstonecraft
The Feminine Mystique, by Betty Friedan

Epic Poetry:
Paradise Lost by Milton
The Purgatorio by Dante
The Paradiso by Dante
Metamorphoses by Ovid
The Odyssey by Homer [OH YES IT IS AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD! I LOVE YOU GOOGLE! SMOOCH!] Will read it again, I probably didn't appreciate it beyond its story when I was eleven.
Much Ado about Nothing by Shakespeare
Hamlet by Shakespeare

Plays:
4:48 Psychosis by Sarah Kane

Non-lit books:
Magic Study by ???
Pride and Prejudice and the Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith. (Should be funny)

So I finally decided to get my lazy arse moving and start on my holiday homework. Unsurpirsingly, English was the first to go.

I think the worksheets are jinxed for picture discussion. Whoever who lives up there really doesn't like me.

It's unfair how the even number pictures are more interesting than the odd numbered pictures!

PREPOSTEROUS. UTTER BLASPHEMY I TELL YOU. THERE MUST BE A CONSPIRACY.

A conspiracy to ensure than piteous moi will get a lower grade for English due to the fact the my pictures are all sucky. *sulks insolently like a brat*

This may be completely irrelevant but my nail harderner keeps peeling off. What, may I ask, is the point of applying nail hardener on nails to make them hard if the goddamn hardener just peels off like an...er...flaccid penis?

Okay, been spending a bit too much time around bio. Never mind that the above sentence is grammatically wrong. And my nail just broke in the shower for the 5th hundredth time, not that I counted! What is the point of applying nail hardener to nails that will entangle in your hair and then fall down and look like dandruff? NOT COOL MAN. At least the stupid things can wait until I am done with my shower until it breaks/splits/whatever!

Yes, I know I sound vain and annoying right now, but have you ever been disturbed in the middle of scrubbing your hair by the uncomfortable pull of a split nail on a hair near your scalp. IT IS MIGHTY UNCOMFORTABLE AND I DON'T LIKE IT.

*audience backs away, waving hands in front of mad authoress futilely, saying 'geez, we get it, we get it.*

Anyone who disagrees with me will wash my rebonded hair for me. And god, those chemicals stink.

Day three. Oh boy I can't wait to wash m hair tonight. The things we women do for beauty, which include not washing a head full of oily hair that would make severus snape's head pale in comparison.

Heck, the straightness reminds me of Lucius Malfoy's except that I'm not blond, and that I'm sure he's always immaculate and clean, considering how he's a pureblood snob.

I learnt new british words to scold people with! 'Sod', 'git', etc, etc. Okay, so I didn't learn them, I merely took a refresher course.

See? I told you reading fanfiction is healthy! And my hair could probably meet the electrical needs of Singapore for a day if they in the biotechnology industries figure out how to make use of human-produced oil! *hint hint target teens with skin problems hint hint*

Well, I wish I coulkd take a picture and horrify you all with my glamorously disgusting oily hair, but unfortunately -or fortunately, depending on how you view it- I lost my cable.

Whoever who lives up there really loves your eyes.

I did it. I took the (not so steep plunge) today and did it.

O HAPPY PROMOTIONS!

Anyway I dom't think there's much of a difference, it's not the very super straight type you see on models.

But I'm happy and I love my straight hair.

Straightening already straight hair. God, I sound like someone with OCD or an unappreciative ingrate.

Since I have a little more energy now to blog (I always am hyper at night. Beats me.) I decided to give you a blow-by-blow account of CAP so as to plump up my scrawny ego and bore you all to death. Yay me!

Okay.

Monday 1/6/09

I remember being stunned as I gazed at the greyish-stuff that was on my dorm bed. The musky smell that permeated the entire room, like little old ladies, and the dust. Oh god the dust, I think it has about as much dust as the Grand Auditorium at Chung Cheng, which, to this day I am still puzzled as to why it was called 'grand'.

Thank god my mum tagged along and managed to wipe my bed with a couple of wet wipes. I know because I found them in the bin after a tiring day of attending lectures and socialising with RGS people. They aren't as snobby or proud as I'd expected (the stereotypes again), but actually they can be quite friendly, down-to-earth people, like the sort you'd find in Chung Cheng, except that they won't give you a blank look when you talk about prose-poetry and Shakespeare. I made a korean friend =D, which to this day, the pronunciation of her name still escapes me. Heck, I can't even read a paragraph of chinese letterheads without someone laughing at my pronunciation (like an angmoh's they'd always say), so how the heck am I supposed to pronounce Korean?

Also, I learnt something new: Never to judge a building by its paint job/layout. The Prince George's residences looked like a high-class condominium, but once you enter my room...heck, I bet the prisons have more space. It really did resemble prisons with bedsand a sink in the room, except that this room had a fan and the bed was just a single bed. And there were windows and curtains gathering dust.

Basically today was just orientation and introductions, nothing important. No wonder all the rejectees were invited to participate. (Yes I know it sounds mean). For free too -- I bet they didn't need to pay for the catered food.

Lectures were intersting, or at least the parts which I was awake. Lord Puttnam from England had that monotone accented voice you hear in your head when you're falling asleep. I brightened up when he set up Powerpoint, thinking that I could easily not zone out, but when he ended his speech and shut down the window, I saw it was just a single slide comprising of his name and hugeass photo.

What's the point of setting up a single slide just with your photo and name? Boy, he has a huge ego or something.

I had very little appetite and ate just vegetables and a small piece of meat without rice, for dinner. I had planned to take the rest to my room to finish.

I ended up throwing it away.

The beds were hard. But at least despite my grievances, it was WAYY better than Kota Tinggi.

In your face, Malaysia.

Tuesday 2/6/09

We had our writing workshops! Fun fun fun.

Yes, I know I have a weird idea of fun. Right now my peers in Chung Chenng would be groaning and moaning in unison as they beg Mrs Pereira not to unleash another journal on them. I can't recall whether I fell asleep during the lecture, but I think it was interesting. Couldn't recall the contents much, I told you I wasn't an auditory person.

My first workshop was conducted by Agnes Meadows from London, and though her build was slightly...bulky and she looked like a spitfire in her photos, I think she's an awesome lady whose poetry kicks ass. I liked her poem, 'Tracey says', which is about domestic violence. God, this lady rocks.

We just sat there and listened to her read out some poems for inspiration and then wrote poems on the topic 'She's leaving home', because this year's seminar is based on the theme 'Jurneying home'. I managed to pen down a despondent, emotional, melodramatic piece on divorce after biting my lip and after some constipated looks I was sure I had on my face as I struggled to find the words.

The next workshop was a complete blah. I think I hated this workshop most of all. Poor Sheena who sat next to me wrote on a corner of her paper and passed her note to me : I don't think I am enjoying CAP so much. Something you like isn't supposed to make you crawl into a corner and die. I wasn't good at comforing people but I wrote a paragraph trying to comfort her instead of focusing on writing a prose passage about some character.

I really disliked this workshop because Muse went off to lalaland without me. I tore up my papers in fustration and (just nice!) the Courttia Newland, the teacvher pointed at me and asked me to read out mine. I held up the torn papers in my fist, shame-faced. He didn't reprimand me, but he said something to the effect of not tearing up your work as it is part of you.

Had my first performance workshop, and it was rather unfortunate I didn't really like the people there. Somehow the people I met at CAP reminded me of people I've know at Chung Cheng, There was this sec 1 from Nanyang that reminded me of Sharon and a hyper girl who reminded me of Sueann. Except that Sueann wasn't that annoying.

I realised that my group consisted of extremely elite people, Nayang Girls', RGS, RI, Hwa Chong, etc, etc. I frowned at my Chung Cheng uniform, and couldn't help but feel a bit shorter than I was. Anyway, the hyper, nanyang girl had an annoying laugh, one that reminds you of a hyena. Now, I suppose with that kind of laugh, if she had laughed when I was a bit more enegetic of laughed less frequently I may even laugh along with her, unfortunately, a sleep-deprived Chanel is an anal-retentive, irritated Chanel. I think I may have accidentally glared at her or something.

That night, for some unfanthomable reason, I couldn't sleep.

3/6/09

It was with much relief when Wednesday rolled around. I was sleepy, tired and I think I nearly bit the head off Sheena when she came and knocked on my door. Thank god today's first lecture is gonna be held by Agnes Meadows, who had more lovely poetry for us all. Goody!

Oh, on a sidenote, I skipped breakfast all these days.

Anyway, writing workshop was also fun, with Josephine Chia, a local writer helping us. Her handouts were useful, especially for the section on how to create dialogue. I admit my dialogue skills are rusty, since I am a descriptive writer and not a playwriter. Somehow I still have this WONDERFUL ability to write passively. Yadda yadda yadda.

Performance Workshop was hell, because somehow I suspect that given the furtive glances that the two nanyang girls were shooting at me, they didn't like me much. They also ended up doing most of the work, despite my objections. When I spotted a grammatical error and proceeded to point it out to them, the writer was VERY defensive.

Oh-kay...

I decided to comply and shut up. Because it was easier and I was fucking exhausted.
After dinner they decided to bloody change the entire script. Nevertheless, I wasn't too happy about it. Whatever floats their boat then.

They also decided to have morning rehearsal, to make up for the time wasted in writing a new script. I did not say, nor mutter anything. I was sure everyone knew the cause for that.

I had a cup of fruits for dinner, which was pathetic, considering the 4-5 course meals I get at home.

4/6/09

It was with great relief that I r eceived Thursday. Despite not getting enough sleep, I still managed to get myself up and shower. Sheena came into my room and we talked while I brushed and groomed myself (i.e. dried my hair). I was late for the stupid rehearsal, and made a half-hearted apology and later ate my breakfast of twiggy (a cake product of Gardenia).

Thank god this lecturer was a university professor who brought along some powerpoint slides. I was able to keep myself from zoning out during hte better half of one and a half hour, but somehow I found myself doodling and being a zombie in general. That day I accidentally got me timetable wet, so during the forums I was pretty lost on where to go. I ended up at a publishing one and a n ot-so-informative poetry one. Got bored but took down notes.

We had a formal dinner today, and the dress I wore received compliments. I was cold in the air-conditioned rooms, due to it being a tube dress. My fats arond the shoulders were exposed, an ugly reminder for me TO GET OFF MY ASS AND DO PUSHUPS NOW.

I was also able to sleep that night, thank god.

5/6/09

Friday. The last day of CAP and checking-out day.

From the past few days I had managed to remember how to get to the auditorium using the lifts and minimise the labour needed to carry my heavy luggage down. However domestically-blur I am, I managed to fold my laundry somewhat nicely and throw my laptop in my luggage. It was still damn heavy. I hope the hostel never bills me for that one bottle of water I left on the shelf. In fact I should bill them, given how much the cost of water is these days.

I skipped lunch and breakfast, choosing to eat only a roll for both events. A very small one measuring approximately 12 cm long and 4 cm wide. Whatever: I knew that the food I'll get at home would be better.

Unfortunately I couldn't skip dinner as well, as they had catered food, which I dug into eaagerly after the crap I've tried at the canteen on Monday. The technical rehearsals and performances were lovely, I particularly liked the drama and had a soft spot for the balcon scene done by a poetry slam group.

My dad helped me carry my luggage. Thank god, because I don't know if I had the energy to lug it up. At least if you lug it down the bus there's gravity to help you, but when you carry it up, you're going against gravity and whatever depraved resistances.

I also developed a taste for Taylor Swift's 'Love Story'. I could hear it again...and again...and again...

Okay. You can read my thoughts on jouneying home *rolls eyes* if you scroll down.

Anway, I have to give credit to the councillors, who were the last to rest and the first to get up in mornings so as to ensure our wellbeing, and they took pains to pen the aCAPella, the daily newsletter. It must've been difficult to be in good humour when you're tired.

On a sidenote, the list of books I am gonna read:

Invitation to a Beheading by Nabokov
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Magic Study by dunno-who.

Anway I am very shuang right now because I can skip cathehism camp! YES BABY!

Oh yeah, besides loosing sleep and poetry slam, I learnt one thing there:

By the moon, Shakespeare IS a perverted old man. Romeo and Juliet, besides being cheesy and melodramatic, has a lot of perverted allusions.

Here's an example, taken right out of the play:

ROMEO
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET
What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

Satisfaction. Satisfaction tonight. Are you thinking what I am thinking? *waggles eyebrows.* Nevertheless, the whole congragation of CAP people, the 80+ of them snickered at the relevation.

*Naive audience gives a blank look*

SEXUAL SATISFACTION, DIMWITS.

And some of them tie to a very popular song.

ROMEO
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

JULIET
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

ROMEO
What shall I swear by?

月亮代表我的心。Get it?

Oh, and 'Under WHERE' sounds like 'underwear' if you say it quickly.

You may think it's obvious but it's pretty hard to come up wiht these puns!

Okay, digress a little here, but there's this funny poetry slam thing done by another group that I'll liek to share. So this is written from what I can remember, without reference to the script.

Narrator 1: One fine day
in the month of may
Two people met
On a gaming set

Narrator 2: The enemy was Romeo
But Juliet-- she loved him so.

Narrators:The characters are played by these two boys
Controlling them like little toys.

Juliet: Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou romeo?
You are my love, and not my foe.
Surrender now, if not K.O.

Romeo: O-M-G! I know, I know
I will change my name tomorrow.

Juliet: How chance you came onto my teams' orchard
Without fear of being tortured?

Romeo: I came here on love's light wings
The shop down there got many things.
But that isn't the crucial bit
I came here to kiss your jewelled feet

[Forgot this part that leads to the enxt]

Romeo: I swear-- by the moon!

(Everyone comes out and points to imaginary moon at stage left)

Juliet: (flings romeo's hands from hers* But the moon-- it changes everyday!
How wou ld I know if you're here to stay?

Romeo: Alamat!
Then swear by what?

1: Off to you Romeo
What do you say -- yes or no?
2: Don't leave her heart broken to rot decay
Hurry romeo-- swear you'll stay!

Juliet: Swear by yourself, if not
don't swear at all.
This very fast, like lightning y'know?
I really think ' that you should go.

Romeo: Would you leave me so unsatisfied?

Juliet: What satisfaction do you want tonight?

Romeo: I only ask for your fair hand.
Marry me -- I'll be your man.

Juliet: My hand was yours before you asked.
Since this test of love you passed.

Cybercafe owner: Get off the comp, you time is up,
Pay up now or just shut up.

Juliet: I'm sorry my love, I have to go
My team wants me to go and kill
By nine tomorrow we'll be wed,
I'll wear your wing and fly your flag.

Romeo: I hope my love will come back soon
And not leave me in lovesick doom

Juliet: I'm back for now, but I have to go
know one thing: our love will grow

Romeo: By nine tomorrow we'll be wed,
It's this crazy new facebook fad.
Our status we will change
An online marriage-
We'll arrange!

Narraotrs: Goodnight,sweet lovers, dream of lovers fair
Tomorrow they'll be a lovely pair!

(Boys playing the characters):
Juliet: He knows my gender is a lie
Romeo: Oh my god! You're a guy!

I'm baack!

Seriously, no one sms-ed me...as if you didn't miss me. *huffs*

I phail as a friend.

Okay anyway this post is gonna be super short as I am exhausted after camp. Sitting through 3-hour lectures and writing workshops and performance workshops day after day after day is no joke. YES, THE WHOLE DAY.

Well, except for the three meals, 6 hours of sleep (less than that on the first few days) and the occasional tea break. It's like we eat, breathe and live writing.

And I am in zombie mode right now. ZOOMBIIEEE. I LOVE HOME.

On a sidenote, this year's theme is 'Journeying Home'. By some miracle I had managed to get into CAP and all I got from those dizzying, more-boring-than-mr-lo's-grammatical-error-laden-speech, monotonou lectures, less than 6 hours of sleep and stress and feeling like crawling into a hole and dying when people seem to have no prob overcoming writer's block; was a certificate of participation and a lousy t-shirt.

Seriously, it's those kind of cheap t-shirts, with stickers ironed on at the back. I personally thought that this year's design was fugly. They reminded me of a rainbow of cockroaches.

And certificate of participation only?! It made me feel so inadequate! At least give me some recognition, like, certificate of achievement that I have managed to get my fat ass into this incredibly tough course and survived these days with fruit and twiggies. Oh and water.

Stingy.