Saturday, January 08, 2011

Trackpants and Jackets.

I've just read my English teacher's blog, and somehow, it made me want to blog again. Here I quote Mong as he generously informed us of it's existence. "Read and weep", he said in his email. The result? This.

I realise that I do so enjoy blogging because its therapeutic and it calms me down. I am sitting in my study all wrapped up in a warm, fresh and crisp new jumper and trackpants. Yes, in Singapore. I'll admit, it's not really a place to be bundling up, but tonight is proving especially cold. My hairs are standing on end and this is WITH all that material on. I like it, though. It's the I'm Abroad feeling which I sometimes inexplicably yearn for.

It's 8 days into 2011, and I've just made some resolutions, only I can't say what they are. In ST's Mind Your Body, an article explicitly stated that verbalizing resolutions decreased the chances of them coming to fruition.
I'm not completely convinced that blogging about resolutions is equivalent to VERBALIZING them, but I'm not taking any chances.


There is one thing that I would like to thank God for tonight.
.My teachers.

I can safely and convincingly assure you that never in my life have I been so in love with my teachers. This might sound disgustingly nerdy and loser-esque, because I'm supposed to be all teenagery along the lines of "teachers talk absolute rubbish all the time, who cares if their good or not?".

Try as I might, I can never be one of those couldn't-care-less, I-am-cool-and-independent kind of students. I worship the teachers who I think really care about the class and (unless sleepy) usually listen rather intently to them.

This year, I am blessed with the most fantastic teachers ever. For HLEnglish we got Mr B.Conner (said blog), and Mdm Thiru, Dean and Deputy of the English Dep. For BM we got Mdm Angela Ong, who is so effective I remembered ALL the Ratio Analysis sub-categories by the end of her lesson. For History we got TKC again, but we all adore him because he's funny and doesn't take Limheng's bullying seriously.

Mr Kishor is taking us for Bio again, he's brilliant too. Today he told us all about anorexia and nutrition and although I was sleepy, it was fascinating all the same.

Woe, however, to maths. My brain was not meant for numbers because they always fall out after I stuff them in desperately. It's annoying selective about what it registers, it can remember cool words like perspicacity (keeness of mental perception), but it won't comprehend why the First Principals of Differentiation must exist.

My brain will remember for example, after a year, the song for Differentiating something (Bring down the power, reduce the power by one, differentiate inside the brackets, and multiply- to the tune of Three Blind Mice), but not the awful double angle formulas and the like.

Our teacher seems to me pretty brilliant though, his name is Max Tan. Neat qualifications: Dean of Math Dep in Hwa Chong, taught there for 8 years. Worked in the MOE (if I recall accurately). I doubt it'll make a marked difference though. The method to my acing maths is doing so much until I become utterly sick of it. I like to call it The Hammer Method. You hit hard enough, you hit frequently enough, and it's bound to get in.


I just finished reading what I propose to be one of the most wonderful books I have ever devoured. In actual fact, of course, I'm not supposed to be reading non-academia books. Hence nothing outside the realm of Siddhartha, Huck Finn (btw the new 'revised' version is a special kind of revolting to me. If someone had to gall to switch my words in any of my work I'd rather not have them read it. I'm sure JRR Tolkien would agree with me, and Twain himself. Lightning bugs and lightning! Also, I would rather be called nigger than slave.), Shakespeare and Russian plays.

I don't most of the time do what I'm supposed to. This is why I become a ball of nervous wreck just before major examinations, I suppose. (Speaking of major examinations, 10% of the cohort got 44pt and above for IB which was released yesterday. It is highly disturbing.)


Said book is Looking For Alaska, by John Green. It is from the Kids section in Kino but I am not the least bit ashamed to have read it. Besides, it was under the 'Gifted Readers' section. SO. Anyway, I am in love the story. The way Green weaves his story is so remarkable it makes me want to weep. And so I did, toward the end of the book I was unashamedly tearing. His book is heart wrenching and breathtaking and beautiful. I admire the way he manages to capture the emotion of the moment with stunningly poignant metaphors which I might elucidate on later.

For now my sister is crying and sobbing because of her insomnia brought about by the flu bug which has been going around. Duty calls!

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