That sums out my situation right now. Final Year Project concerns have all but pushed aside everything else, including that art contest entry I really ought to be working on.
Perhaps then it's fortunate that I finished Transformers: The Game before all this stuff came falling down. In spite of the poor reviews, I found myself enjoying the game thoroughly (probably because it incorporates two of my passions - treasure-hunting and driving). Although the controls, particularly of the camera, were rather iffy, I discovered that there are a surprising number of special moves. For instance, Blackout performs a powerful type of ground attack if you hit the melee attack button immediately after dropping from guard mode, Barricade can switch on his police lights causing other cars to move faster and out of the way, and in Hoover Dam there's a way to make Bumblebee flip up to the first level of the generator towers...
Even with the regular controls, it's all good fun. I might try playing it all over again just for the sake of doing it all better the second time. Not to mention searching for more tricks.
In other news, the Gmail collaborative video is out! Watch it here. It's quite funny, and reflects not only the efforts of those who submitted videos, but also the editors who managed to string them together coherently.
On the home front, I can't say this surprises me. Particularly in primary school, I met several teachers who were so obsessed with rules they forgot why those rules were implemented in the first place. Of course their attitude only got them hated by their charges, and earned them absolutely no respect.
There are just so many problems in education, not just at home but worldwide. Sometimes I think of becoming a teacher for the sake of making a difference, and then I stop and wonder if it ever would.
Friday 31 August 2007
Sunday 26 August 2007
Fiction: The Old Guard
It occurred to me suddenly that I missed them.
It was in the middle of the afternoon with the sunlight coming in and twinkling off the glasses, and the tavern was quiet because no one came in at that time. I was in my corner with a pile of wanted posters on the table and a newspaper for company, and as the old barkeep Jen came around with a white dishcloth he said, “Ain’t seen Tabby in a while. What happen’d ter him?”
He was falling and I thrust out my hand but it missed his by inches and he fell and fell I tried to scream but it was no good and he was smiling, he was smiling, he held up nine fingers and as I stared the darkness swallowed him up I couldn’t save him I couldn’t save him not dear lucky Tabby no –
“I don't know,” I said, and sipped at my coffee.
“I remember how it were like,” mused Jen, absently polishing the tabletop. “It were grand times, it were. Angel an’ Rosemarie, and that there bard chap –”
“Fugue,” I supplied distractedly.
“Aye, that were his name. Good lad, always a-ready with a yarn. Prob’ly a chronicler fer one o’ them grand houses in Pichon now, I shoun’t wonder.”
“Or rotting away in Menksvale Prison,” I muttered under my breath.
“Now wouldn’t that be nice?” Jen rambled on, noticing nothing. “An’ Meerschaum. Har, now that one had a laugh. Did us all good, hearin’ it boomin’ up ter the rafters.”
He went like that too. He was laughing, a horrible sound as he swung his daggers in a deadly crossing arc, the carcasses forming a putrid stockade about him but never strong enough to protect him. They just kept coming and he knew he’d never survive, gruesome purplish blood splattering across his fair skin and his fine clothes, and by the time his own was let we were well out of sight and knew we’d lost him –
“Yes,” I said shortly. “It did.”
“They were good times, lad.” Jen, eyes far away, automatically wiped the ashtray with his towel, sending deep black streaks into the white cloth. He would get it from his wife later for that one. “We were all so happy. An’ now yer’ the onley one still here.”
I saw Angel at the executions the other day. He did not pull down his hood so much as he had in the old days, so I recognised him easily. He still disguised his arbalest in the form of a bulky staff though. His eyes flicked into mine briefly, blue-green and haunted, and then he pulled away with the crowd. I could not even smile at him –
“Yes.”
“An’ we be grateful,” said a new voice. Hanna came from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Folks as likes ter forget their heroes, but we never do. Yer’ll always be welcome here.”
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely. I might have been aloof, but I was not incapable of gratitude. Hanna huffed, a little embarrassed, and looked for something familiar. “Jen! What yer be doin’ with me best dishcloth?”
Jen almost dropped the ashtray. “Um...” he fumbled.
I rose, rolling up the posters and tucking them under one arm along with the newspaper. “I have to go.” The barkeep and his wife immediately turned from their impending argument to detain me, but I spoke before they could. “I have something to take care of.”
They understood of course. They were good, sympathetic souls, for all their village roughness. Hanna pressed a warm paper parcel into my hand, and Jen accompanied his insistence that I would always be welcome with a hearty clap on the back. I nodded to them both and stalked off down the street.
It was a good walk up the hill, and the sun was sending golden threads through the trees as I reached my destination. The small white stone was almost overrun with flowering creeper, so much so it was almost invisible, but I found it easily enough. I had always been able to.
I carefully sat down next to it on the grass and stared out, looking over the town and the dying sun beyond it. It was a quiet evening, still and peaceful. Away across the hills, a nightingale began to sing.
Presently I spoke. “I should have listened to you. We all should. I wish... I could tell you that.”
The stone sat unmoving, unable to forgive.
“That’s what you hated, wasn’t it? Not about what you could see. It was that no one else could. You were sighted in the land of the blind, and none of us understood what you meant. Not until the end.”
I leant back into the grass. “You know, I never cared much for the company,” I mused. “Everyone was just there. I thought I could have done without them. I thought I was there from pure courtesy. But then we started to drop away, one by one, and I realised how much more I could have given back then. Back when it wasn’t too late. Back when we were... whole, I suppose.”
The golden rays had now deepened to orange, and they coloured the sky in brilliant streaks. The grass rustled in acknowledgement of the light breeze.
“I miss those days.” I stood up suddenly. “But things must change, or they never will. Goodbye, Rosemarie.” I touched the top of the stone lightly, then turned and walked, away from the town, towards the darkening hills.
As I tread the narrow rocky paths, eating the warm bacon-and-egg pastry Hanna had packed for me, I thought about the days before the change. About the decisions I could never rewrite. They were sombre thoughts, but not discouraging.
“After all,” I contemplated, “Someday I will be old and toothless, or perhaps freezing in some cave somewhere, or alone without hope in a graveyard. And then I will look upon these days as the best in my life.”
The thought made me chuckle.
It was in the middle of the afternoon with the sunlight coming in and twinkling off the glasses, and the tavern was quiet because no one came in at that time. I was in my corner with a pile of wanted posters on the table and a newspaper for company, and as the old barkeep Jen came around with a white dishcloth he said, “Ain’t seen Tabby in a while. What happen’d ter him?”
He was falling and I thrust out my hand but it missed his by inches and he fell and fell I tried to scream but it was no good and he was smiling, he was smiling, he held up nine fingers and as I stared the darkness swallowed him up I couldn’t save him I couldn’t save him not dear lucky Tabby no –
“I don't know,” I said, and sipped at my coffee.
“I remember how it were like,” mused Jen, absently polishing the tabletop. “It were grand times, it were. Angel an’ Rosemarie, and that there bard chap –”
“Fugue,” I supplied distractedly.
“Aye, that were his name. Good lad, always a-ready with a yarn. Prob’ly a chronicler fer one o’ them grand houses in Pichon now, I shoun’t wonder.”
“Or rotting away in Menksvale Prison,” I muttered under my breath.
“Now wouldn’t that be nice?” Jen rambled on, noticing nothing. “An’ Meerschaum. Har, now that one had a laugh. Did us all good, hearin’ it boomin’ up ter the rafters.”
He went like that too. He was laughing, a horrible sound as he swung his daggers in a deadly crossing arc, the carcasses forming a putrid stockade about him but never strong enough to protect him. They just kept coming and he knew he’d never survive, gruesome purplish blood splattering across his fair skin and his fine clothes, and by the time his own was let we were well out of sight and knew we’d lost him –
“Yes,” I said shortly. “It did.”
“They were good times, lad.” Jen, eyes far away, automatically wiped the ashtray with his towel, sending deep black streaks into the white cloth. He would get it from his wife later for that one. “We were all so happy. An’ now yer’ the onley one still here.”
I saw Angel at the executions the other day. He did not pull down his hood so much as he had in the old days, so I recognised him easily. He still disguised his arbalest in the form of a bulky staff though. His eyes flicked into mine briefly, blue-green and haunted, and then he pulled away with the crowd. I could not even smile at him –
“Yes.”
“An’ we be grateful,” said a new voice. Hanna came from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Folks as likes ter forget their heroes, but we never do. Yer’ll always be welcome here.”
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely. I might have been aloof, but I was not incapable of gratitude. Hanna huffed, a little embarrassed, and looked for something familiar. “Jen! What yer be doin’ with me best dishcloth?”
Jen almost dropped the ashtray. “Um...” he fumbled.
I rose, rolling up the posters and tucking them under one arm along with the newspaper. “I have to go.” The barkeep and his wife immediately turned from their impending argument to detain me, but I spoke before they could. “I have something to take care of.”
They understood of course. They were good, sympathetic souls, for all their village roughness. Hanna pressed a warm paper parcel into my hand, and Jen accompanied his insistence that I would always be welcome with a hearty clap on the back. I nodded to them both and stalked off down the street.
It was a good walk up the hill, and the sun was sending golden threads through the trees as I reached my destination. The small white stone was almost overrun with flowering creeper, so much so it was almost invisible, but I found it easily enough. I had always been able to.
I carefully sat down next to it on the grass and stared out, looking over the town and the dying sun beyond it. It was a quiet evening, still and peaceful. Away across the hills, a nightingale began to sing.
Presently I spoke. “I should have listened to you. We all should. I wish... I could tell you that.”
The stone sat unmoving, unable to forgive.
“That’s what you hated, wasn’t it? Not about what you could see. It was that no one else could. You were sighted in the land of the blind, and none of us understood what you meant. Not until the end.”
I leant back into the grass. “You know, I never cared much for the company,” I mused. “Everyone was just there. I thought I could have done without them. I thought I was there from pure courtesy. But then we started to drop away, one by one, and I realised how much more I could have given back then. Back when it wasn’t too late. Back when we were... whole, I suppose.”
The golden rays had now deepened to orange, and they coloured the sky in brilliant streaks. The grass rustled in acknowledgement of the light breeze.
“I miss those days.” I stood up suddenly. “But things must change, or they never will. Goodbye, Rosemarie.” I touched the top of the stone lightly, then turned and walked, away from the town, towards the darkening hills.
As I tread the narrow rocky paths, eating the warm bacon-and-egg pastry Hanna had packed for me, I thought about the days before the change. About the decisions I could never rewrite. They were sombre thoughts, but not discouraging.
“After all,” I contemplated, “Someday I will be old and toothless, or perhaps freezing in some cave somewhere, or alone without hope in a graveyard. And then I will look upon these days as the best in my life.”
The thought made me chuckle.
Fin.
Monday 20 August 2007
Fly Away
A close friend is flying away to parts unknown today. (Well, not so much unknown as foreign, but you get the point.) It's the first time one of our little circle is going to be so far away.
...
I don't know. I deal with this kind of stuff better by not thinking about it.
Good luck, girl. Don't ever turn back. We'll be behind you all the way.
...
I don't know. I deal with this kind of stuff better by not thinking about it.
Good luck, girl. Don't ever turn back. We'll be behind you all the way.
Sunday 19 August 2007
Thursday 9 August 2007
1-Up to Singapore!
Singapore turned 42 today. Now we all know 42 is a very special number, so Happy Awesomely-Numbered Birthday, Singapore!
This year's National Day Parade was held at Marina Bay, owing to the (frankly dinosaurian) National Stadium undergoing a major overhaul. The show was held aboard a floating platform, with some performances spilling out onto the water and air around the platform, and it was all very, very awesome. Check out the highlights:
1) The President, for the first time, inspected all the contigents, and from a vehicle instead of on foot.
2) A Chinook helicopter hovered three metres above the sea surface, kicking up water through the action of its rotors and releasing divers into the water. These divers were later picked up by rigid-hull inflatable boats, which performed some impressive turns of their own. That's not the point though. The point is - three metres above the water! Dude!
2) The SCDF's fire-attack vehicles - I think that's what they were called - rolled in in front of the audience and sprayed them with water. They do that every year, but it never gets old.
4) The new Apache helicopters performed some impressive aerial stunts, swooping in around the buildings and towards the audience, before coming to a dead stop in mid-air, tilting in a salute and flying off. I wish I had that on tape, because it was truly awesome to behold.
5) The show segment was much as always - a lame theme with impressive performances which make you forgive them for it. This year's performance was slightly different, in that there was one central character - a lionfish-type person named Sing - who rollerbladed in and out of each of the fifteen segments, occasionally making some statement about people, home and the elements.
6) Some singer - I didn't catch his name - rolled into the platform in a white car and put in an energetic performance. He was dressed in an obvious parody of the famous Sir Stamford Raffles statue standing by the Singapore River.
7) One performance was entirely by forty-two neon-decorated kites. That's right, kites. It was delicate and magnificent all at once.
8) There were two theme songs this year. I didn't like the first one - too much putting-down of other countries' landmarks - but the second, Will You, was nice.
Will you make this island
Amazing in all ways
Suprises every corner
Delightful nights and days
Will you take this country
And turn it from a place
To a home that greets you
With smiles on every face
Will you come on this brave journey
Will you help to make it real
Will you write us grand new stories
Songs that everyone will feel
So will you swim the current
Will you scale new heights
Will you make it happen
Will you let your dreams take flight
And will you make the difference
Will you seize the day
Will you live each moment
Will you dare to find new ways
Will you take this city
And turn it from a place
To a home that greets you
With smiles on every face
Will you come on this brave journey
Will you help to make it real
Will you write us grand new stories
Songs that everyone will feel
So will you swim the current
Will you scale new heights
Will you make it happen
Will you let your dreams take flight
And will you make the difference
Will you seize the day
Will you live each moment
Will you dare to find new ways
Dare to find...
Dare to find...
Dare to find...
New ways
(Music and lyrics by Jimmy Ye. Watch the music video here.)
9) The finale was the most colourful, glittering, firework-filled thing I've ever seen. But of course nothing felt greater than singing the national anthem with the rest of the country.
It's an odd thing, this Parade. Somehow, for a few hours, everyone on the island is united in one grand show of patriotism. And this one's not yet another artificial attempt at building a national identity. The nation truly celebrates, as one.
Here's to forty-two great years from my favourite country, and here's to many more in the same spirit.
This year's National Day Parade was held at Marina Bay, owing to the (frankly dinosaurian) National Stadium undergoing a major overhaul. The show was held aboard a floating platform, with some performances spilling out onto the water and air around the platform, and it was all very, very awesome. Check out the highlights:
1) The President, for the first time, inspected all the contigents, and from a vehicle instead of on foot.
2) A Chinook helicopter hovered three metres above the sea surface, kicking up water through the action of its rotors and releasing divers into the water. These divers were later picked up by rigid-hull inflatable boats, which performed some impressive turns of their own. That's not the point though. The point is - three metres above the water! Dude!
2) The SCDF's fire-attack vehicles - I think that's what they were called - rolled in in front of the audience and sprayed them with water. They do that every year, but it never gets old.
4) The new Apache helicopters performed some impressive aerial stunts, swooping in around the buildings and towards the audience, before coming to a dead stop in mid-air, tilting in a salute and flying off. I wish I had that on tape, because it was truly awesome to behold.
5) The show segment was much as always - a lame theme with impressive performances which make you forgive them for it. This year's performance was slightly different, in that there was one central character - a lionfish-type person named Sing - who rollerbladed in and out of each of the fifteen segments, occasionally making some statement about people, home and the elements.
6) Some singer - I didn't catch his name - rolled into the platform in a white car and put in an energetic performance. He was dressed in an obvious parody of the famous Sir Stamford Raffles statue standing by the Singapore River.
7) One performance was entirely by forty-two neon-decorated kites. That's right, kites. It was delicate and magnificent all at once.
8) There were two theme songs this year. I didn't like the first one - too much putting-down of other countries' landmarks - but the second, Will You, was nice.
Will you make this island
Amazing in all ways
Suprises every corner
Delightful nights and days
Will you take this country
And turn it from a place
To a home that greets you
With smiles on every face
Will you come on this brave journey
Will you help to make it real
Will you write us grand new stories
Songs that everyone will feel
So will you swim the current
Will you scale new heights
Will you make it happen
Will you let your dreams take flight
And will you make the difference
Will you seize the day
Will you live each moment
Will you dare to find new ways
Will you take this city
And turn it from a place
To a home that greets you
With smiles on every face
Will you come on this brave journey
Will you help to make it real
Will you write us grand new stories
Songs that everyone will feel
So will you swim the current
Will you scale new heights
Will you make it happen
Will you let your dreams take flight
And will you make the difference
Will you seize the day
Will you live each moment
Will you dare to find new ways
Dare to find...
Dare to find...
Dare to find...
New ways
(Music and lyrics by Jimmy Ye. Watch the music video here.)
9) The finale was the most colourful, glittering, firework-filled thing I've ever seen. But of course nothing felt greater than singing the national anthem with the rest of the country.
It's an odd thing, this Parade. Somehow, for a few hours, everyone on the island is united in one grand show of patriotism. And this one's not yet another artificial attempt at building a national identity. The nation truly celebrates, as one.
Here's to forty-two great years from my favourite country, and here's to many more in the same spirit.
Saturday 4 August 2007
Update X: Ten, I'm Telling You!
Been too long, eh?
1) I absolutely hate critics who don't know what they are talking about.
2) Turns out that knowing how to do something and actually doing it are two entirely different things.
3) Some people never understand instructions unless they are pasted in a visible place in 72-point font and incorporate generous amounts of profanity in the sentence structure.
4) Scaring people is easier when they aren't paying attention.
5) The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley. Especially when they depend on the cooperation of other mice and men (see #3).
6) BZP's forums have been down for over a week now. I hope it doesn't last.
7) The current Sluggy arc ends with a difficult choice and a generous dose of ion cannon.
8) Pirate is in a dilemma.
9) The Gmail crew pulls more funny stuff. I thought this was one of the better submissions, and this one's wonderfully animated. Also, Lego!
This one is just cute.
10) I hate shoes which are not sneakers. Actually, I pretty much hate any shoe which has a bad effect on my feet.
I refuse to endure damage to my feet for the sake of aethetics.
11) This post had a lot of junk code, so I HTML'd it to death.
12) I'm Ratchet, apparently.
And my cursor is acting up. I'm off.
1) I absolutely hate critics who don't know what they are talking about.
2) Turns out that knowing how to do something and actually doing it are two entirely different things.
3) Some people never understand instructions unless they are pasted in a visible place in 72-point font and incorporate generous amounts of profanity in the sentence structure.
4) Scaring people is easier when they aren't paying attention.
5) The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley. Especially when they depend on the cooperation of other mice and men (see #3).
6) BZP's forums have been down for over a week now. I hope it doesn't last.
7) The current Sluggy arc ends with a difficult choice and a generous dose of ion cannon.
8) Pirate is in a dilemma.
9) The Gmail crew pulls more funny stuff. I thought this was one of the better submissions, and this one's wonderfully animated. Also, Lego!
This one is just cute.
10) I hate shoes which are not sneakers. Actually, I pretty much hate any shoe which has a bad effect on my feet.
I refuse to endure damage to my feet for the sake of aethetics.
11) This post had a lot of junk code, so I HTML'd it to death.
12) I'm Ratchet, apparently.
And my cursor is acting up. I'm off.
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