It was more of a talk by Professor Kirpal Singh, my literature teacher's (Dr. Maha), Professor. He is quite a well known guy or rather, mellow fellow, in literary circles and universities. It was a class about poetry and the more obvious traits of a good poem and the connoted meanings. Talking about mellow, today's dictionary.com word of the day is mellifluous - flowing sweetly or smoothly.
We were asked to write two poems in this 3 hour crash course (ten to fifteen minutes each, the rest of the course was spent talking about poems, exceedingly engaging and left me wondering if he, like other poets, wanted to trap us with his ideas) smack in the middle of the exam weeks. (thankfully its the last day of April, meaning tomorrow is Labour day and it'll be a nice, long, revision-filled weekend) One was based on the art installation the Professor had to notice while entering the school building. The art students' City of the Future Project. Miss Teo, if you are reading this, good job!
Of course, as seen by the previous posts, I was involved and I think my poem conveys what I feel about the whole project and my own interpretation, which was better left unmentioned in my preparatory sketches. It touches slightly on what I feel about some folks in the art class who, perhaps, don't understand me too well or just have a... to use the term, prejudiced view.
Untitled
I see a silver of the place,
Just the waves, you see, lapping and yapping at the shoreline.
the pristine, clear cut structure and mass
just plonked in the middle of a levitating island over a
crumpled. black, hole
over which mobiles with sharp edges cut the babe's hands
as she reaches out to touch it
stay way, the beckoning beacon says,
but she is only a child,
untried by life's trials.
she touches it, then prods it, a metallic glob forms,
and trickles and mingles through her netted wires
the whole city is being enveloped into tar
while i sit here with pen and parchment
when in the present my hands are marred and scarred
the hollering infidels just want to touch sharp razors.
And the second poem, an interpretation or a poem about a postcard which we picked at random.
I got the postcard of the typewriter, with the caption "We do the Write thing for you!", promoting paper and English related checking services. and I immediately thought of Roald Dahl's short story. It was meant to be a six liner but I didn't hear that part. But here's what I cropped of my original poem:
It's amazing, they do it all for you
send a mash of literary mush,
all american blabberish or ingrammatical kableesh
and you become a bestseller
not just any meyer who wins over the sellers
you get sick when they pull out their trick
This, I shared with Gina, who was a year older and me and chose me to discuss her poem with. She's a nice senior, also thought by Dr. Maha. The class was about 25 girls from two classes, only parts of our class showed up.
And the rest of what I wrote:
It's amazing, they do it all for you
send a mash of literary mush,
all american blabberish or ingrammatical kableesh
and you become a bestseller
not just any meyer who wins over the sellers
you get sick when they pull out their trick
just your name and face and novel idea
which no one ever liked
but, ah, yes, potential, we'll keep this and
publish it after a few tweaks, yes?
a few more similar calls with all your other entries
and you realise its a recorded voice
but, busy people have tight schedules, no?
it comes out a week later, fresh as a spring,
and every bit as jumpy
or perhaps a tot lumpy, like fermented milk in the fridge
they've got my catchphrase there...
yes... and the character does this... oh yes! the oscillations!
why though does it seem different? subtly different.
But who cares about changes, what's important
is the changing dough, if you get my drift.
My excuse for typing all that out? The Doctor wants it. Chinese exam was a flop. But I've still got humanities, Science and Math. So chin up dear girl!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Yes!
This is quite a surprise. M just called me up to say that she read the previous post. At least we got things straightened out. Actually when I post I guess I'm in a way hoping that the people I talk about read my post and understand my feelings. How else can I tell them to the face "Hey this thing your doing to me bugs me like anything."
Once I get it off my chest in my blog it feels great.
But when I know someone who I mentioned read it, well that beats everything else. The point got in without me opening my mouth. Its like a cream puff pastry with sprinkles on top which you eat in the dark. You don't knwo what you're eating but when you taste it its marvellous.
But one thing egging me is that my PARENTS are reading my blog. I know their style of language and I can almost certainly vouch for that.
Ha! My viewers for this blog has upped to two more!
Exams are coming so with all the stress this blog turns into a rant but I'm at the emotional crisis age. It needs something to go right before everything else falls in place.
Once I get it off my chest in my blog it feels great.
But when I know someone who I mentioned read it, well that beats everything else. The point got in without me opening my mouth. Its like a cream puff pastry with sprinkles on top which you eat in the dark. You don't knwo what you're eating but when you taste it its marvellous.
But one thing egging me is that my PARENTS are reading my blog. I know their style of language and I can almost certainly vouch for that.
Ha! My viewers for this blog has upped to two more!
Exams are coming so with all the stress this blog turns into a rant but I'm at the emotional crisis age. It needs something to go right before everything else falls in place.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sighs
That's the name of a teacher in Philip Carey's school in Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage, but that isn't relevant.
Here's what happened this week.
I found out on Monday that we had a Literature Essay on a grammatically incorrect poem by Tuesday. I had spent the previous night trying to come up with something but I had hardly gone past the third paragraph when I had fallen asleep, twice. It was eleven thirty at night. I promptly went to bed in the hopes of getting an extension as no one in class was really sure whether or not we had to the essay in any case. I had left school earlier on Thursday, the day before Good Friday.
Looking back, I wouldn't have time to write the essay even if I had known. I've got three math papers to to a accomplish by Friday night and a whole mountain of revision to conquer.
So on behalf of all the other girls who had left early and had not done the essay, I pleaded successfully. We had till Thursday.
Then at the end of the lesson, that Literature teacher went on and on about the responsibility of a student to hand in homework early. I suppose that's partially my fault. But in the end some of my friends did benefit from it. I finished it during free period in any case and handed it in to her before school ended.
One thing about teachers and parents and, I don't know, everyone who has expectations of you, they always think you should prioritize. The problem is, they shrink all other aspects to fit a pin head and expect us to have equal weightage towards all our subjects or some such thing. Like parents, equal weightage between studies and health, which makes me subject to a homework curfew of 12 midnight. Impossible to achieve I must say but sometimes I do stay up beyond that. My literature teacher thinks that we should prioritize according to deadlines, making sure we submit something. But she doesn't understand that most of us had projects which were graded. Such as my Art building which I need to improve on soon. The rest look rather dishevelled but at least they garner the eye's interest.
Now I think I'm subject to the displeasure of quite a number of people. That teacher. Other folks because just a moment ago we saw our ranking for that Odyssey of Mind competition... eighth out of ten in our division.
Tuesday's events also had a few more disappointments. Namely the car trip back home with my friends, M and A. Normally I try to maintain a lively conversation as much as possible but mid-way I just felt exhausted. They kept talking to themselves in the backseat. Normally, yes I understand that as a woman in the front seat its hard for others to talk to you but, they didn't refer to me or ask me questions to include me in the conversations. Cough, cough, I'm the daughter of the parent who gives the ride back.
Well just call me temperamental. But do you know those convention or orating members? They always have anecdotes. And in my church or circles, the anecdote of the nice guy who calls you up or bumps into you and starts a long talk with you keeps coming up when they talk about patience. And there you are standing with a strained voice and smile trying to wish your way out of it. Well, A did that to me.
Okay now, Thursday. Chinese tuition was scary. It seems like I'll never pass my paper. But I think I'll cope till my national exam. I wish I could take French or some other language like Latin. I went hope with A because M said A wanted me to go home with her. The thing about going home with them is that it is so awkward. They hardly talk when I'm going out with one and I'm always trying to pick up the conversation, more like peppering A with questions really.
V was slightly frizzled off. I suppose its because of the vast amounts of homework our Literature and English Teacher gave.
We found out that our math teacher is going for a major operation next Monday at 9 a.m. To remove her reproductive system because of a cyst that developed there. Please pray for her. Hoping that its still alright. She's one of the senior teachers in the school and she must be quite nervous. She trusts in God, it'll be painful but who knew that she could hide it for two years! That's how it grew so huge. She says the operation will be of no "consequence" since her reproductive system is going to shrivel up inside her in any case. Kind of gross but that is true. Our body will degenerate as we age. Till we're breathing organisms. Our exams are in two weeks but she's finished the syllabus and thinks our class can handle. She'll only see us after summer break. At least this sort of thing grounds you to life.
One more thing. I think I've got it bad with Eurasian or Caucasian boys. It's scary. Their voices especially, killers.
Here's what happened this week.
I found out on Monday that we had a Literature Essay on a grammatically incorrect poem by Tuesday. I had spent the previous night trying to come up with something but I had hardly gone past the third paragraph when I had fallen asleep, twice. It was eleven thirty at night. I promptly went to bed in the hopes of getting an extension as no one in class was really sure whether or not we had to the essay in any case. I had left school earlier on Thursday, the day before Good Friday.
Looking back, I wouldn't have time to write the essay even if I had known. I've got three math papers to to a accomplish by Friday night and a whole mountain of revision to conquer.
So on behalf of all the other girls who had left early and had not done the essay, I pleaded successfully. We had till Thursday.
Then at the end of the lesson, that Literature teacher went on and on about the responsibility of a student to hand in homework early. I suppose that's partially my fault. But in the end some of my friends did benefit from it. I finished it during free period in any case and handed it in to her before school ended.
One thing about teachers and parents and, I don't know, everyone who has expectations of you, they always think you should prioritize. The problem is, they shrink all other aspects to fit a pin head and expect us to have equal weightage towards all our subjects or some such thing. Like parents, equal weightage between studies and health, which makes me subject to a homework curfew of 12 midnight. Impossible to achieve I must say but sometimes I do stay up beyond that. My literature teacher thinks that we should prioritize according to deadlines, making sure we submit something. But she doesn't understand that most of us had projects which were graded. Such as my Art building which I need to improve on soon. The rest look rather dishevelled but at least they garner the eye's interest.
Now I think I'm subject to the displeasure of quite a number of people. That teacher. Other folks because just a moment ago we saw our ranking for that Odyssey of Mind competition... eighth out of ten in our division.
Tuesday's events also had a few more disappointments. Namely the car trip back home with my friends, M and A. Normally I try to maintain a lively conversation as much as possible but mid-way I just felt exhausted. They kept talking to themselves in the backseat. Normally, yes I understand that as a woman in the front seat its hard for others to talk to you but, they didn't refer to me or ask me questions to include me in the conversations. Cough, cough, I'm the daughter of the parent who gives the ride back.
Well just call me temperamental. But do you know those convention or orating members? They always have anecdotes. And in my church or circles, the anecdote of the nice guy who calls you up or bumps into you and starts a long talk with you keeps coming up when they talk about patience. And there you are standing with a strained voice and smile trying to wish your way out of it. Well, A did that to me.
Okay now, Thursday. Chinese tuition was scary. It seems like I'll never pass my paper. But I think I'll cope till my national exam. I wish I could take French or some other language like Latin. I went hope with A because M said A wanted me to go home with her. The thing about going home with them is that it is so awkward. They hardly talk when I'm going out with one and I'm always trying to pick up the conversation, more like peppering A with questions really.
V was slightly frizzled off. I suppose its because of the vast amounts of homework our Literature and English Teacher gave.
We found out that our math teacher is going for a major operation next Monday at 9 a.m. To remove her reproductive system because of a cyst that developed there. Please pray for her. Hoping that its still alright. She's one of the senior teachers in the school and she must be quite nervous. She trusts in God, it'll be painful but who knew that she could hide it for two years! That's how it grew so huge. She says the operation will be of no "consequence" since her reproductive system is going to shrivel up inside her in any case. Kind of gross but that is true. Our body will degenerate as we age. Till we're breathing organisms. Our exams are in two weeks but she's finished the syllabus and thinks our class can handle. She'll only see us after summer break. At least this sort of thing grounds you to life.
One more thing. I think I've got it bad with Eurasian or Caucasian boys. It's scary. Their voices especially, killers.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Here's what I noticed. When I get really steamed up and helpless about something, something else has to come along to remind me about the whole picture. Friday I was more than irate over some people. Then over the course of Saturday when I had no time to blog I got over it slightly. Then on Sunday we had a sermon about Temptation in the series Desert Journey in preparation for Easter Sunday. Monday was back into contact with those people again but well, once Saturday rolls around this whole project will be over.
And Tuesday, today, when I had to pierce my skin with that little wooden carving knife. Or rather wood carving tool, used to make wood block carvings. I started something on Monday, to hollow out a wood block to make a little recession big enough to stack notes on top. Partly out of anger and somehow, before school even started the blade slipped and blood came out.
Instant Reaction: Vampire instincts. Suck the blood.
It was partially sparked by the fact that our backdrop's wheels were spoilt. Possibly by my own doing. But I am the sort who doesn't like to admit it, because it would only make me feel more remorseful. Or rather more liable for others to blame. It doesn't matter too much, they've got some sort of solution.
Andy Williams has a very soothing voice. Its quite claiming to think about God and all those broader views of the world, knowing its all going to work out.
The thing about the cut was that the blood coming out was so thin and watery. At least I knew they didn't totally hate me when one of my friends told the teacher but she disappeared soon after to do other things.
Now its Thursday, just a few hours before Good Friday. Today I spent most of my time in agony. I don't have any friends now in the place where I spend most of my waking hours. Except my seniors in debate, I spend my extra curricular activities with them and that's a lot of time. I can just tell them things I would never dream of telling my class because they can't take a joke or let me tell them something really interesting. The moment you mention the opposite gender in two stories one after the other they think you're boy crazy and having over-active hormones.
Okay, to cut short I've got to:
1) Go for meeting from 8 to 9:15 for that project
2) Math homework (substantial, actually, very)
3) Chinese (very substantial)
4) Geography (few pages)
5) Science/Literature/Geography/History/Art notes and revision
6) Try writing an English Essay and one of the letters
7) English speech research on "Why should I stop eating fast food" and "How to save the Earth" (low priority)
8) Art sculpture on an A4 piece of mounting board. City of the future. 30% weightage for mid-years! (VERY HIGH PRIORITY DUE TUESDAY!)
9) Settling my emotions right, and getting my studies first. I wish I had a home-tutor so I wouldn't have to bother with people in a class.
Praying for a miracle to happen, they do happen now. But my time of the month wasn't the miracle I was hoping for.
And Tuesday, today, when I had to pierce my skin with that little wooden carving knife. Or rather wood carving tool, used to make wood block carvings. I started something on Monday, to hollow out a wood block to make a little recession big enough to stack notes on top. Partly out of anger and somehow, before school even started the blade slipped and blood came out.
Instant Reaction: Vampire instincts. Suck the blood.
It was partially sparked by the fact that our backdrop's wheels were spoilt. Possibly by my own doing. But I am the sort who doesn't like to admit it, because it would only make me feel more remorseful. Or rather more liable for others to blame. It doesn't matter too much, they've got some sort of solution.
Andy Williams has a very soothing voice. Its quite claiming to think about God and all those broader views of the world, knowing its all going to work out.
The thing about the cut was that the blood coming out was so thin and watery. At least I knew they didn't totally hate me when one of my friends told the teacher but she disappeared soon after to do other things.
Now its Thursday, just a few hours before Good Friday. Today I spent most of my time in agony. I don't have any friends now in the place where I spend most of my waking hours. Except my seniors in debate, I spend my extra curricular activities with them and that's a lot of time. I can just tell them things I would never dream of telling my class because they can't take a joke or let me tell them something really interesting. The moment you mention the opposite gender in two stories one after the other they think you're boy crazy and having over-active hormones.
Okay, to cut short I've got to:
1) Go for meeting from 8 to 9:15 for that project
2) Math homework (substantial, actually, very)
3) Chinese (very substantial)
4) Geography (few pages)
5) Science/Literature/Geography/History/Art notes and revision
6) Try writing an English Essay and one of the letters
7) English speech research on "Why should I stop eating fast food" and "How to save the Earth" (low priority)
8) Art sculpture on an A4 piece of mounting board. City of the future. 30% weightage for mid-years! (VERY HIGH PRIORITY DUE TUESDAY!)
9) Settling my emotions right, and getting my studies first. I wish I had a home-tutor so I wouldn't have to bother with people in a class.
Praying for a miracle to happen, they do happen now. But my time of the month wasn't the miracle I was hoping for.
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