The Korean Experience
A collage of pictures taken during my recent trip to Korea, during the winter season.
A word of caution if you are going to Korea - Koreans are an ethnocentric race, preferring to speak nothing out of their Korean language, with few translations of their road signs, street names and landmarks. Even hotels/tourist spots restaurant menus are predominantly in Korean.
I managed to find a handful of English phrases only in Lotte Hotel, which is considered "international" by their standards. If you ever find yourself with a query and approach them in English or Mandarin, chances are, that encounter would only be marred by your frustration in the face of the stupendous language barrier.
So, if you are going to Korea, do yourself a favor and learn some commonly used Korean phrases first, lest you become like me and have to resort to "sign language" to communicate your intentions or questions.
The Night of the Birth of the iBitch, Amongst Other Things
Supper with the 7 Till Dawn guys is always fun and full of mental-load-lightening nonsense. Just take a look at a recent entry in Jinfu's blog.
Power Rangers: 7 Till Dawn
The auditions on friday went well, with 7 Till Dawn, for the first time, having one of their best showings at an audition. Perhaps the inclusion of a new keyboardist that clicked well with the rest of the band musically and personality-wise complemented the band in a manner that just did not occur previously.
On another note, the standard of the bands in SMU has definately improved, with the influx of many new musicians on the SMU band scene. Too bad D'funked and Jetlaxx were unable to make it for the auditions. They would have definately stood a good chance in performing for either SMU's Grand Opening or Patron's Day.
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Friday night also saw the birth of the iBitch, an interesting concept in the age of iDogs, iPods and 'i' stuffs.
From An Email
Incredibly witty.
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"Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
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And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
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If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?
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How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.
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English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. "
Une Histoire de Deux Amants
The final piece of the puzzle, a slow falling into realization; awakening in a world where rainbows are black and white, tinted with shades of grey.
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Sad rhetoric from the couple plastered on the screen, a melancholic comedy filmed through the pitter-pattering of curious acquaintances, all wrapped up in a tempest wrought from the foundations of societal conventions.
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Like a noir-esque film, the drab shades of this world are painted only by the colorless drops of rain, the perpetual drizzle that refuses to depart, that run parallel to the metaphorical tears of the protagonists.
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Whilst the silent one, bound to his oath, watches on with hopeless despair, like she, he knows the ending of this sad tale. With bullet like speed, much too recent since the beginning, the reel seemingly reaches its end.
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The empty theater with its flickering blank gray screen is accompanied only by the hollow clicking of the projector’s wheels, never halting, waiting only for the end to this tale or the beginning of the next.
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This post is dedicated to the tale of two friends, who are still resolving the conclusion to their newly penned chapter.
I can only offer and advise optimism to their situation
The Aftermath of a Successful Collaboration
It is interesting in how people perceive certain details, especially during collaboration, once the results of the task are released. It did leave a dull ache in my being, rather than a sharp or bitter sensation, when the perpetrator is none other than the culprit who has overstated their achievements and a friend whom you trusted and thought did likewise.
One's tongue is hard to control when it is not your own, with eyes hard to focus when the details are simply omitted, I suppose.
Or was it a case of calculated misdemeanor, with the other party lacking self-reflection on one’s contribution?
Nevertheless, I shall be more wary henceforth, to cover my six. Greyness has seeped into this once innocent amity.
On another note, I am really touched by a sweet gesture from another friend. Thank you Min min.
Intellectual Self Esteem
In writing, especially when being judged upon and evaluated, no matter how much one ponders and wracks one's brains on the topic at hand, one would still doubt the paper's intellectual depth and content.
Is this the consequence of intelligence that if one can think of a concept or philosophy, one would still feel that it is lacking in depth? Or is this simply the result of one's insecurities and lack of intellectual self esteem?
Have you ever had this feeling when writing a paper or report?
An Interesting Experience
Source:
Shirt, Pants & Size 28
An Existentialistic Outlook?
A friend of mine took a peek at the blog and commented that I was an existentialist.
I'm wondering - Do you agree with him?
For the benefit of those (which includes myself), who have no idea what an existentialist is -
ex·is·ten·tial·ism (ĕg'zĭ-stĕn'shə-lĭz'əm, ĕk'sĭ-)
n.
A philosophy that emphasizes the uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe, regards human existence as unexplainable, and stresses freedom of choice and responsibility for the consequences of one's acts.
Source:
www.answers.com
Kai, this post is dedicated to you.
A Surrealistic Evening
The process of watching oneself on screen, is at best, weird. Many minutes passed before I was finally able to focus on the show and enjoy the story. The initial moments, awkward, as I studied, graded, evaluated and criticised my own performance; the vantage or bane of being granted the perspective of a third person.
Nevertheless, its experience was refreshing and held the roots for a crucial beginning towards my personal growth as an amateur actor.
The verdict is out for those who have seen it and I shall keep my own council for the time being, at the request of the director.
Thank you 'R', for this great opportunity.
Utter Beauty
That was what it is. The physical representation of pure, utter beauty.
Never in my life have I set gaze upon such a magnificent sight. Such towering grandeur and dramatic opulence! I felt humbled and minisculed in the presence of its majesty, as it filled the sky with its wonderous palette of white, blue, fiery orange, calming yellow and angry red, with its nearly solid rays of light piercing through the heavens like shining blades.
Despite only catching a glimpse of this wonderous and inimitable portrait of splendor, its exquisiteness was so intense and raw that its image would be eternally imprinted into my consciousness.
Now, whenever I glance westwards, I see her cousins, stately in their splendor and unique in their own ways, but never comparable to her.
Lost Friends
A simple post dedicated to several friends of mine, whom I lost in August this year.
Amidst the chaos of life and the loss of appreciation for the simpler things, which have been taken for granted by many of us too busy focusing on our pursuits, you brought back the simple pleasures that material wealth could never afford.
Your unconditional love and companionships gave to me a new meaning in life; a treasure beyond compare. The enthusiasm you expressed in the simple joys of life returned unto me tenfold, diverting my mind from the many troubles which continually plagued me. You unknowingly lent cheer, comfort and strength to an almost broken soul, heartbroken at seeing a loved one wracked with weak health and to another, spent from the agony of illnesses, on the very verge of exasperation.
You gave new meanings into life that we would have never known or acknowledged without your fateful entrances into our lives. I hope that when you departed, some fragment of our love was brought with you into wherever your continued journey leads you to. Unlike many of your other nameless peers, you carried into your passing your names and our affections.
I pray that you are all in a better place than what I could have ever provided. I miss you. Lots. And still do think of you frequently, despite the months that have passed.
