Vivien ♀ Twenty one (21) English Literature Major ✎ A Gleek ♬ I love you like a love song

I've decided to switch blogs, and this may be permanent or temporary depending on my mood. It's mostly because shoutbox is shutting down soon and I can't find a replacement board which is as minimalist and grey as it, or any without garish advertisements on them. What better way to start of a new year huh?

Ask me if you need to know my new address. It's really a no-brainer though.

I just applied for US travel authorisation online, because even though Singaporeans don't need a visa to enter they are stepping up security. You know, TSA and whatnot. Anyway here's a question:

C) Have you ever been or are you now involved in espionage or sabotage; or in terrorist activities; or genocide; or between 1933 and 1945 were you involved, in any way, in persecutions associated with Nazi Germany or its allies?

Yes, yes, because spies or ex-Nazis would click "Yes" in this form. There was another application form which asked if I had committed any "crimes against humanity". Because obviously those who had would be applying for a visa to Canada to, I don't know, terrorise those nice Canadians, because "they've had it too good for too long", quoting Norm the Genie. +5 internets if you know where that quote came from.

I realise I haven't been blogging for a long time, and I think I've lost the touch to come up with long spiels of nothing. Which is something I noticed in the last two essay exams. I mean, come on, sometimes I even have to think of what word to use. I'm so out of depth nowadays.

So here I am, blogging for selfish reasons (I mean other than the usual selfish narcissism) of improving my writing and my bullshit generating speed. I just hope this semester wouldn't kill my CAP too badly, because CAP=LIFE. Right? But honestly, I am so sick of NUS life. Let me tell you the story of the time I wrote a kick-ass essay about something I was completely excited about. It was in my third semester in NUS, and surprisingly, it was a non-literature essay. That was when I was still in the "Imma major in NM!" phase, and it was for this media theory module thought by this interesting funny professor who reminded me of Jason Ng. The essay was this long (well, 2500 words was a lot in semester 3) one which had to discuss the theories in relation to a  media company of choice, so I picked Pixar.

I know right, mf-ing PIXAR which is totally awesome and inspiring.

I was so pumped about writing the essay that I spent FOUR WHOLE DAYS on it. FOUR DAYS. That's like 400% of my usual effort. The first two days I used to collect several readings and read through them, because research essays need, um, research, and the next two I spent on the essay because I wanted it to be perfect. I downloaded 22 freaking readings and my essay had 27 citations. I mean you'd hardly find more than 5 citations in my recent essays. By the way did you know one employee was disabled in the course of creating Toy Story 2? And several others developed stress injuries because of their repetitive work? The dedication, right? And now Pixar provides message therapy for their artists so this wouldn't happen again.

But I'm veering off-topic. You know the feeling when you know you're writing an awesome essay because you're inspired to write your very best? I haven't quite had that feeling since then, and every essay that I wrote this semester, both the okay-graded and the SUCKFESTOFTHEYEAR ones, were simply written in a going through the motion state of mind, because I haven't really felt that strong of an interest in the texts I've been reading (or not reading, because I have done several essays on texts I haven't read) or the essay topics I've been given/chosen.

I mean, none of them has inspired me so much as Pixar movies. I know, crass consumerist short-attention span mind. I mean I love Paradise Lost in all its Epic narration and glorious Falls as much as the next reader, but it's no Ratatouille. And sure, Thackeray's witty and sarcastic but I couldn't bring myself to plow through all 700+++ pages of the lengthy tome with its minute Times New Roman size 10 font and faded cheapskate ink, what with my doing so badly in French and skipping lectures to drink coffee at the mall like some over-privileged truant. By the way I slightly redeemed my French in the last few tests, except, of course listening, in which I scraped a 13/20 by writing things like "tant fait pas" (should be "t'en fais pas") and  writing crap like "il n'est pas content" when they asked what he meant when he said "n'importe quoi" (which apparently means whatever according to my friend google translate) and getting marks for them. I also just passed my written comprehension (10/20, WIN), because I suck at it. Luckily after a whole morning and afternoon of cramming for French because I had not been listening in class for the past ten weeks I managed to understand subjonctif and the double pronoun usage thing and did okay for Grammar.

Anyway, point is, I'm getting jaded in NUS. So completely fucking jaded. Oh and the Parry Liu thing? Doesn't affect me because I'm an English Literature major, bitches! Not the smartest choice to choose that major in NUS, but we ain't got no blues like the computing/science blues. So. Jaded. It's not the professors, as a whole literature professors are awesome because usually they have a wicked sense of humour and a sarcastic outlook on politics/religion/life, which I dig. It's just that the modules offered at NUS? They don't even have a token fun one, like Children's Literature (I would read everything) or, I don't know, other fun themed ones. Sure, they have Sci-fi (which I couldn't take because of the requirements) but according to other lit people it's a tough module that should be avoided. And I never did like Sci-fi anyway.

I'm hoping the semester away will help me gain back some semblance of love for essay writing.

This was on the papers today, in the Forum section in Life:

(Josephine Tay): I read with great disappointment that Elton John has been given the honour of having an orchid named after him (Orchid Named After Elton John, Prime, Nov 19). I am dismayed that his partner David Furnish and their adopted son Zachary (both right with John) were also publicised to ‘share his honour’.
There are other celebrities and dignitaries more deserving than this pair. Singapore would be seen in a much better light on the world stage if, for example, recent F1 champion Sebastian Vettel had been accorded this privilege instead.
Is homosexuality to be openly encouraged and endorsed by the Government?

What?! They named an orchid after a gay man who happened to be a knight? THE BLASPHEMY! I mean, they even let his gay heathen partner and his poor wretched son "share the honour"? We must inform the elders! I mean Vettel, virile and speedy and manly with his big manly loud ungay racecar (a palindrome, by the way) deserves a flower named after him so much more. Because he's not gay, duh. And he drinks red bull.

"Singapore would be seen in a much better light on the world stage"? Oh please, don't try hiding your blatant homophobia behind this crap, obviously your topic sentence, if you were a better essay writer, would be "Is homosexuality to be openly encouraged and endorsed by the Government?". He's a "Sir" by the way. You just jelly you ain't no Dame.

I'm so sick of fucking homophobes and brainless racists. You know, the thing about the member of the PAP Youth Elite Wing or whatever they're called and his post on terrorist training kindergartens? And the other thing about the shopped pig? I mean I'm no better with my prejudices against our comrades from panda-land even though I personally knew and got along with most of them in hall. Except this one who didn't shower (truth. He stank to high heaven) and was rumoured to have leaves strewn all over his room floor, which is just plain gross in any nationality, plus he didn't do any work in the sets building team of saigang warriors I was in, so screw him and his pungent BO. I'm trying to be less prejudiced but when you hear stories about some of their behaviour, like SM's project mate or Judy's group who left her to do everything by herself because apparently they don't speak English or something you can't help but be swayed.

It's the whole demonisation of the other thing, because isn't it the same for sexual orientation/race/nationality? You perceive differences which you believe to be true of the others in the group, or you just think you're better than them because you're more hygienic, less smelly, less of a jackass in group projects, write and speak better English, mug less, shave your pits more often, slack more (by the way, all these are my set of prejudices) then they are/do. I cannot bring myself to embrace them, so I guess here's where tolerance comes in. The whole in-your-mind-you-hate-them-but-you're-going-to-be-a-hypocrite-about-it sort of tolerance comes in. No harm no foul, right?

It's really weird though, it's not like I've met any truly horrible panda-land comrades as mentioned in those fables you hear, but I guess it's just the spirit of the times huh? Zeitgeist.

But hey, doesn't change the fact that said Forum writer is a rabid homophobe. It ain't your orchid so go suck an egg.

Didn't proofread, sorry.

I need some advice. Do I stay with a bunch of NUS students in a Singaporean-owned townhouse, with amenities(?) like washing machines and INTERNET, or do I look for random roommates off campus? I found a few, but there's no internet access for all of them. O: NO INTERNET ACCESS AT HOME? You can just shoot me in the head. Yes, yes, so much for the "I'm a Luddite" vibe I've been trying to cultivate. I need the internet. That's just it.

Oh, and apparently if I stay in the Singaporean-owned townhouse I'd be staying with three NUS guys. No me gusta. I mean I've met them and I they're all nice people, but I can't stay with NUS people for 5 months! I can't I can't I can't. I need to see the outside world, don't I? Like, wtf, you're giving up internet access just because you want to "see the outside world"? Girl the INTERNET is the outside world.

So, dilemma. See, I'm okay with leaving with guys/girls/transvestites, I just, I don't know, ugh. HELP.

This is bad, I have no idea what to write for an essay due tomorrow. Usually when I do things this last minute I'd have a vague idea about what I'm going to write but for this one my mind's drawing a blank. Maybe it's the effects of Choo's new boyband skin for her blog. Hint: They're 3D, Korean, and apparently into bling-like vintage cameras. And the only one in the group I recognise is this fat one.

Anyway, my essay! I'm just blogging to clear my head because after today's 6 continuous hours of lessons, one presentation and one French test later, my brain isn't really, what's the word, oh, working. It doesn't help that the texts I'm supposed to be writing on are fiendishly difficult: Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter and two Dickinson poems. You'd think the former would be straightforward, but noooooo, there are all these wrought sentences and prickly ideas to decipher in the text and I'm going insane just trying to make meaning out of it. And then Dickinson is just this metaphysical crazy symbolism recluse lady who writes really enigmatic poems. Her poems are great, don't get me wrong, but with the dashes and multifarious words she uses it's just too much for my brain right now. Maybe I should go to bed, since the essay is due at 11.59 at night. It's not a challenge if I do it more than 12 hours before.

409
The Soul selects her own Society -
Then - shuts the Door -
To her divine Majority -
Present no more -

Unmoved - she notes the Chariots - pausing -
At her low Gate -
Unmoved - an Emperor be kneeling
Opon her Mat -

I've known her - from an ample nation -
Choose One -
Then - close the Valves of her attention -
Like Stone

(Dickinson)

I was googling this poem, and found this site where people comment and try to analyse the poems. Now, as readers of literature, we all write elegantly and express meaningful deep thoughts. Here's one I absolutely loved:

"This may onbe one of the boringest poems i have ever read. i hate howshe shows her affection because noone likes her. she is ugly and her poems make me puke in my mouth" -a guest

 See? Guest astutely points out how "noone likes her", and very elegantly describes the emotions evoked by Dickinson's poetic language -- "puke in [his/her] mouth".

And another critique:

"all i kno is that this poem is so boring and hard to understand. i dont get why people write such wierd poems that no one can barely understand why do they have to make life so complicated =(" -(another) guest

Doesn't the profound analysis just kill you? I "kno", right?

Anyway literature students are quite vicious in critiquing people's works. We have this tutorial where every fortnight (it's a fortnightly two hour killer of a tutorial) a group has to present on two texts, and after the presentation the TA will get the group out of the room and the remaining students will discuss and come up with questions to ask the group when it returns. Having been part of the inside group for the past three presentations (today was my group's turn to present) I can say that without regulation from TAs and the presence of the presenters, we're really quite straightforward (no "Oh, that was a good presentation, but maybe you could ... ", or "I think your points were good, but ... "). It's refreshing in a bitchy way.

I wonder what they said about us today.

It looks like I'm not going to be starting on my essay any time soon. This essay's for the same module in which I got a B for another essay. A blank B without embellishments (+/-) on the side. A rotund B which looks benign with its fullness and symmetry, yet capable of coolly stabbing my in the heart with superior indifference. Hey, I'm a literature student, I can afford to be melodramatic once in a while; it's poetic license.

I can't afford another B essay in this module! I don't think I can withstand the crushing feeling of getting a B (not even B+) for a literature module. Yes, don't you just loathe my elitist leanings? So much for being an angsty rebel against the establishment; in the end we all just want our distinctions and honours, don't we? There was this poet laureate who got a second class honours in University and apparently that was a regretful thing, according to his friends, and probably an ugly blemish in his life. Never mind that he was a freaking poet laureate. People really are caught up with small imperfections (you know, the story about the black ink dot on a blank piece of white paper?), which probably explains Soke May's project work distress.

How about I go to sleep now and wake up at 9 to start on my essay? That still leaves me a good 13 hours or so to do my essay. Okay so I have a three hour lecture. And not to mention the travelling time from home to school. The professor really shouldn't have extended the deadline, it's a horrible thing to do to procrastinators.

Speaking of professors, I really like literature professors. It seems almost a prerequisite that they must be witty, funny and insightful deep thinkers. I'm not saying once or twice a somnolent one doesn't slip past the net (just ask anyone who took the introductory course in the first semester; boring enough to make you want to stick a fork in your eye), but mostly they're really awesome professors to have. It's funny (ironic?) how they all seem to fit into types: the wry matriarch in the cheongsam (who seems entirely intimidating but is really a superb and amiable teacher), the funny American goofball (who's actually highly intellectual and good at picking out flimsy arguments, aka The One Who Gave Me a B), the absent-minded awkward professor (who is absent-minded and awkward), and the British guy with all the British witticisms and mumbling. But enough of me waxing lyrical about literature professors. I'm just really glad I'm majoring in something I enjoy studying (what's the point of studying literature? But ask this question of anything and soon you'd be reduced to solipsism [n. The view or theory that the self is all that can be known to exist], and everyone knows that that's going nowhere).

It's really cold tonight (gratuitous comment on weather). I give up; I'm not going to come up with some brilliant essay tonight, so I met as well rest my brain. The essay? Ce n'est rien, I'll do it tomorrow. Wish me luck.

I think I just broke my personal record for essay writing time. 4 hours! Sure, the time taken to write an essay doesn't have any correlation to how well you do for an essay, but there's still a kick in breaking records. Okay whatever. See, I blogged!

I have reverted my angsty post into a draft, because I buy into the whole revisionist view of history.

Now, a gratuitous picture of something cute, so you won't think I'm clinically depressed:


See? Happy chairs!

I am so into Foo Fighters right now.

Blogger has a new "modern" format. I guess it needs to compete with Tumblr/Twitter. It's... nice, I guess. Not very Bloggery, as in, no more clunky styles and dull orange/blue. For people who dig the whole nostalgia-till-it-hurts thing it's "in the good old days...", but it's just Blogger, so whatever. They have this readership tracker, and apparently people who have unicorn fetishes are being led to this blog through Google:


And Leonard Euler, the Math guy, remember? No? He did the thing? With the numbers?

Yeah whatever. French people like long words and horrible tenses. Euler's sort of French. Maybe he counted in French, which made his Math brain work differently from us underachievers who count normally.

Hell yeah, baby! I'm actually superlatively more thrilled at the GOING TO NEW YORK thing.

But:

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