tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81635994754496584012024-02-23T06:06:06.984+08:00StarboardXMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-44743004149029461392014-05-03T12:22:00.003+08:002014-05-03T12:38:13.773+08:00Meditations on First IdeologyA bit over a year ago, working for Admissions meant that lots of people asked me why I chose to go to Yale-NUS. When people ask questions enough times, eventually one starts seriously trying to answer it, or at least think of an answer that sounds good enough for oneself. Some answers don’t think themselves into thought, but instead try to give articulated form to emotions or notions that just well up.<br />
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“I chose Yale-NUS because it gives me a sense of purpose and being part of this makes me feel like part of something bigger, in a way that no other college could.”<br />
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We might conceive of the educational horizon that Yale-NUS strives to push as a kind of brave new world, and in many concrete ways it is; in terms of curriculum, pedagogical model, etc. We are not daunted by the full and realistic expectation that what happens here will be dwarfed by future achievements, nor should we be. However large the building eventually becomes, the satisfaction stems from laying a reasonably significant brick. But ideology goes deeper than corporate purpose, into culture.<br />
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There is a similarity between certain pieces of literature (like the Bible and the Ramayana) and the Yale-NUS mission statement on the wall outside the lobby and dining hall: though not everyone reads it, let alone is conscious of it every waking moment, the ideas represented by words like ‘In Asia,’ ‘For the World’ come to pervade the culture they are a part of. Language and ideology are powerful social institutions, shaping our minds in subtle but significant ways. The language and ideology of Yale-NUS are no less compelling. One thing about Yale-NUS that we are proud of is a ‘sense of community’ that one cannot replicate on the campus of a large university because it is structurally impossible – and perhaps psychologically impossible to know 20,000 people. This ‘sense of community’ goes by another name in CSI: <i>communitas</i>.<br />
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Part of the Yale-NUS community extends into cyberspace, Facebook being one of the most significant reservoirs. Of all the possible groups we could find under the Yale-NUS banner, consider the Confessions page. It is a really interesting phenomenon which has a number of times emerged from the Internet, manifested and exerted power in the real world, commandeering the agenda of at least two town-hall meetings. When the whole debate about racism and constitutional politics got started, I got the sense that something had or was exerting influence over people’s emotions, including my own. Was it the Confessions page? No, the thing-that-was-exerting-influence was mediated through a webpage, but was not the webpage itself. After all, it doesn’t make sense to say that the ultimate cause for the sense of disturbance that many felt was a bunch of electronic signals in some data center.<br />
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Another observation was that the sense of disturbance people felt in the aftermath of that event (and one which I think subtly reverberates today) was not merely a sense of being offended at a racist remark. After all, we see racial discrimination a lot on the web, yet none of it produces the same psychological effect as the Confessions episode had on many members of the community. Contained within that disturbance was a sense of uncertainty or unhingement. As though something previously thought secure had come loose.<br />
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Some people felt a sense of disappointment, a handful articulated it (at least a few who I had the chance to listen to). What is disappointment but the sinking of an expectation? There is/was a certain expectation of the communitas that was threatened. Perhaps it was the expectation that everyone was at heart a nice person? What might we mean by nice people? People who disapprove of saying nasty things? People who see and choose to ignore or gloss over deep physical, religious, cultural, philosophical differences? People who don’t see those differences at all? People who compliment their Yale-NUS comrade’s every achievement out of care for their emotional well-being? Where do these expectations come from? Who told us that this is what ‘nice people’ look like?<br />
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The intangible collection of ideas and notions that form the Yale-NUS ideology are brought here by every single individual, each of whom comes from a different background, some more similar and others different depending on whose subjective perspective we assume. In the process of identification as a Yale-NUS student, we begin to identify with our institution. Everyone does it in different ways, but everyone does it to some extent. Somewhere, expectations are formed, conditioned not only by rhetoric we feed each other, but also by our backgrounds, emotions and our ideas of what a liberal arts college is or should be. The more we dig up and plumb the depths of ourselves and our institution (and reading Confessions is an interesting way of doing it), the more we might realize that there are similarities and differences which run far deeper than we expect. Let us also remember that any abstract Yale-NUS ideology is also a historical product of an American liberal arts ideology (whatever that is), rather than something we created ex nihilo here in Singapore. A fair number of optimistic, incoming freshmen expecting an ‘American-style’ education should attest to that. Many of us were not so different not so long ago.<br />
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Every bunch of people with a sense of communitas has a totem. This totem is not a physical object, online platform or person, but a collection of ideas and notions that flow together to form something we might call an ideology. To consider this thought piece as simply an attack on the totem we have right now would be a misunderstanding. Having been a part of this social institution for the better part of a year now, I think it is only appropriate that we start examining the nature of the totem we really have. Such a meditation not only demands that we dissect any ideology we hold, but also requires us to reach inside and reflect deeper than we might have thought necessary. And who knows until where those implications and conclusions might reverberate.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151718680430242586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-20678527240753236162013-03-26T00:12:00.001+08:002013-03-26T00:12:47.863+08:00Paradox<b>Reflectia:</b> Isn't it funny how we aspire to the character of someone like Jean or the grace of Cosette, but in truth are more like Javert in his moral struggle or even Thenardier in his personal desires? It is sobering and somewhat...depressing to think of it that way or even know that we will never achieve 'goodness', free of sin. For in believing that we are free from sin, we immediately lapse into pride, that demon that existed before Lucifer. Thus it is that the righteous cannot know of their righteousness. Are they doomed to torture themselves eternally by holding themselves to a fundamentally unattainable standard?<br />
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<b>Sophia:</b> Isn't the same true of wisdom? Are the wise by the same principle compelled to think of themselves as fools even though they among all people least deserve the title?<br />
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<b>Reflectia:</b> I thought I was alone, but then are we are not siblings inseparable? It seems to me that it is not so for the wise. They seem to be and since they need to hide nothing pettily, therefore must be in perfect equilibrium, being in a position and having spiritual authority to judge. Yet they do not 'judge' as lesser men do, but induce those lesser men to judge themselves. But how does one achieve such a state?<br />
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<b>Sophia:</b> There's little one can do about lesser men. Leave them to their own karma and yours to yourself.<br />
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<b>Reflectia:</b> *sighs* I keep telling myself that. But it's at those times that I consider all the failures of self-discipline. The consequence of imperfect self-control is despair, but perhaps it is an ironic thing to 'desire' self-control, for it will not be found that way.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151718680430242586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-5698532800486233112013-03-15T01:12:00.000+08:002013-03-15T01:14:41.432+08:00Righteous Indignation?<div>
<b>Adamantia:</b> An annoying number of people seem to believe that the spirit of more liberal social practices is a 'loosening up' not just of the body but also of the mind. Yet the willingness to do anything does not necessarily equate to the willingness to think anything. The body runs free while the mind remains caged, locked into a singular worldview. The way these people behave reeks of conformity. What liberalism is this that sees no other mindset than its own? It seeks to oppress, not challenge opposing thought and in doing so acts against the principles it preaches.</div>
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<b>Reflectia:</b> But they think and promote this in good faith, to varying degrees of consciousness. Does that not mitigate? Or perhaps 'mitigate' is the wrong word - it implies they commit a crime, albeit informed by good intent. But perhaps that disqualifies it from being a true crime altogether. Whereupon we lose the jurisdiction to judge it.</div>
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<b>Adamantia:</b> But perhaps we assume a simplicity of mind on their part. Can we accuse other minds, nay souls, of failing to consider what we consider even now? What then is the rationale for this hubris? Regardless, do they think that we will so easily bend against principle or 'natural inclination' to peer pressure? Us, steel tested in fire is not easily intimidated and we should take pride in this brand of stubbornness born from courage not foolhardiness. One may drink or dance to relax - we have no objection to people seeking pleasure or solace from life in their own ways - but I take issue with juvenile exercise of social impetus hoping to bind all in a way which serves only to make oneself feel good about the unity of the community in a single set of social norms and nothing more. In the same vein I look down on those who, in a naked hunger for approval, bend willingly to the crowd.</div>
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<b>Reflectia:</b> It is true that we may not assume a simplicity of mind among all men. That would be deepest hubris. And speaking of hubris, it may be too prideful to think of ourselves as steel. We have been tested, but perhaps not by the hottest flames. Yet it is right that steel not yield to lesser fires than had forged it - we can allow ourselves that much pride. It is interesting that we mention social impetus. At the risk of recognizing ourselves as hypocrites, do we not deploy the same sort of social compulsion to achieve our own short-term ends? We act this way toward people we swore to die for, no less.</div>
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<b>Adamantia:</b> A fair point. Let us dwell on that hypocrisy-induced shame, lest we commit it once again. I admit, the mere thought of this dishonor makes me lose stomach for righteous anger. Perhaps no indignation can be righteous.</div>
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<b>Reflectia:</b> But are we still to have an opinion on social pressure? How do we make a stand against this conformity we are perhaps rightly opposed to without making a judgment against the unwitting oppressors? Maybe it is better and more courageous to judge oneself and others harshly and equally. But can we expect either ourselves or others to be able to live up to such standards? Are such unenforceable standards worth pursuing? Yet if the alternative is to stand-by and let the oppression roll over others and oneself, how can that be just? </div>
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<b>Adamantia:</b> We know not!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151718680430242586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-7523971777359687832013-02-11T00:15:00.000+08:002013-02-11T02:01:55.780+08:00Ponding<b id="internal-source-marker_0.23616759316064417" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peering down, Kok Soon watched the waves beat against the parapet 8 levels below. Soon the entire 6th floor would be completely submerged, the resident mussels feeding happily, growing nice and fat for the human beings living on the levels above them. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rhythm was almost soothing.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For now, only the occasional splash propelled itself over the wall and into the mussel pens. But the waves grew. However imperceptibly, the ocean would creep in and swallow the mussels’ lair, nourishing their tenants with rich aquatic dust. The harvest was good, and by the next low tide, the men would go down to pick from the plenty. And so it went. The sea would come, feed the shellfish, the shellfish would grow and the men would cook and consume them, retreating to their concrete eyries before the sea swallowed them up in turn. Kok Soon couldn’t help but remember a song about ‘the circle of life’, from one of those old movies, made before the earth was reclaimed by the ocean.</span></b><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">****</span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.23616759316064417" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Oy, what’s that?’</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kok Soon could hear a light splash. But this one was quick, unlike the sound of the sea beating lazily against the walls. It was followed by a second, almost a crash. A dissonance in the waves' metronomic symphony. He swiveled the accumulator light’s powerful beam toward the general direction of the noise, its gaze melted away the darkness, but there was nothing.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The intervening moment was spent in silence. Badawi absentmindedly moved the light from side to side, in a probably futile attempt to see something he wasn’t particularly anxious to see. The beam combed over the ocean, revealing a piece of wood floating by. Kok Soon clutched his SAR. The two of them were up on the roof, at the absolute second highest point of the flat - the highest was reserved for the lightning conductor. No monster from the dark ocean could possibly touch them here. Yet, a sensation of unease continued to gnaw at Kok Soon’s soul. Badawi put down his weapon and lit a cigarette. He didn’t - couldn’t tear his eyes off the waters.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Just a sotong la. Maybe it want some night snack.’ Badawi let out a cackle. Kok Soon hoped the old man was right, but deep down he knew better. </span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151718680430242586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-14569180973833928282012-09-17T00:59:00.003+08:002012-09-17T00:59:54.094+08:00InsanityThe more I learn about the state of nuclear current affairs, the faster I want to grow up and die.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151718680430242586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-79889984013093783692012-09-07T23:59:00.002+08:002012-09-08T00:42:26.612+08:00The Rosetta StoneThe more Japanese lessons I take, the more amazed I am at what must have been the first linguistic bumblings between the Sengoku-era Japanese people and Portuguese traders who maybe missed China by a little bit. Maybe we would still be completely clueless about Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics had the Rosetta Stone not been found.<br />
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But when American, Singaporean and other journalists, students, academics and average private citizens set foot in each others' worlds, we don't have the benefit of a single Rosetta Stone pointing us toward a better understanding of the perspectives, intentions and meanings of our exchanged words. By no means are the two peoples meeting physically for the first time, instead, our worlds are colliding in a way which has never been done before - and this is a process which many people feel invested into, myself included.<br />
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It's an unholy swirl of identity issues, moral ideas, as well as hopes and ambitions common to many young people who believe in earning a good degree and enriching their human spirit intellectually and morally at the same time. It is natural to feel strongly about an institution which has been a key part of one's past journey through young adulthood, or an institution that promises to be a key part of one's individual and societal future. Clearly a fair number of Yalies, past and present, and Singaporeans, students or not, are invested in that. I know there are others still itching to enter the dialogue, be it on a public platform, between groups of friends or within the expanse of their own minds.<br />
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It can be frustrating to see the dialogue stagnate with a line drawn dangerously often at national boundaries between two adversaries duking it out. Keeping in mind that my previous post on this subject was/is meant as a private rage outlet, what I find actually, <u><b>truly</b></u> annoying, is the seeming lack of advancement of the conversation.<br />
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We seem to be stuck on asking おまえはだれ?<br />
Trying to explain that my mates and I came from Portugal. Accidentally.<br />
What do you mean by a 'free society'?<br />
What does it mean to hold fast to the liberty I cherish?<br />
What is that freedom anyway?<br />
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I think that rather than attempting, with good intent, to turn completely to convincing the other party with reason alone, we must acknowledge that feeling various emotions well up from within ourselves is a very human phenomenon - one that isn't just a vestige of our baser self, but is instead a clue to understanding our individual and societal psyche. As well as our own mental health. Arguments can carry on till the proverbial cows come home, but constant attacks are more likely to harden the mind as a bunker than open them enough for cultures and consciousness to flow out of it and touch another mind. I'm sure some Christians can understand when I say that the mind is never converted to understanding ('belief' is not the right word here), only the soul. And just as God can reach past the walls of Man's heart and touch his spirit, so too should we endeavour (in a secular context, but no less 'spiritually') to share the essence of what it means to be us with them - and for us to coax ourselves into allowing them to share what it means to be them with us.<br />
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I know of people who see what appears as HATEEEE and who lament, "if only they knew us". And they have a point, if only they knew us. But is that not an exciting challenge? To move quietly amongst fellow students to share about our differences and discover our similarities. We might never become close enough to be 'one people', but that should not be our aim in the first place. There is no room for missionaries or ambassadors, only people in constant Brownian motion.<br />
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Perhaps we may discover that it isn't fear of an authoritarian government that limits our freedom of speech, but cultural values rooted in events recent to a half century back or ancient as a couple of millennia.<br />
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Perhaps we may discover that keeping one's mouth shut sometimes is not an unenlightened, backward thing, but a grace.<br />
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Whether you are a first-generation student of YNC or an individual invested in another way, it may be healthy to be mentally prepared for a process that probably will take years, lack a grand finale/happy ending, and likely piss off lots of people along the way. Everyone has a piece of this Rosetta Stone, and the more pieces we elephantglue together, the closer we come to understanding hieroglyphs. Whether one views this as an exercise in society-transformation or a step in the journey of personal betterment or has some other motivation, it is humbling to think of this as a little school embedded on a small island in a big world in a bigger universe at one point in the expanse of time and history.<br />
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But it shouldn't stop one from dreaming big.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151718680430242586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-8009385828882837402012-09-05T23:14:00.001+08:002012-09-05T23:14:17.398+08:00COH 2 WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO<a href="http://www.gamereplays.org/companyofheroes/portals.php?show=news&news_id=897250">http://www.gamereplays.org/companyofheroes/portals.php?show=news&news_id=897250</a>
XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-70195050309544223632012-09-05T01:09:00.007+08:002012-09-05T22:45:20.039+08:00Haters gonna haaaaateeeEdit: At the risk of people taking me too seriously (through no fault of their own), I must qualify: The mind is like a zoo. There are many kinds of thoughts in it, big and small, herbivorous, carnivorous or omnomnomivorous. This one's going for a walk tonight:<br />
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With reference to recent articles concerning Yale-NUS College:<br />
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<a href="http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/sep/03/yale-nus-detractors-paper-campus-fliers/?cross-campus">http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/sep/03/yale-nus-detractors-paper-campus-fliers/?cross-campus</a><br />
<a href="http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/jul/20/unease-grows-over-freedoms-yale-nus/">http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/jul/20/unease-grows-over-freedoms-yale-nus/</a>
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<a href="http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/mar/23/fischer-yale-nus-is-not-yale/">http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/mar/23/fischer-yale-nus-is-not-yale/</a>
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The Yale Daily News is by and large reporting objectively events which happen on campus, with the obvious exception of guest Op-ed articles. For this we should grateful, for in that respect at least does Yale stay representative of the America I know and love. However, the quality of the dialogue of what I understand to be a vocal minority is disappointing, but perhaps not unexpected - and with poetic license can be seen as a microcosm of the rhetoric which tends to be flung around in the larger States during this election year.<br />
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Complaining is part of Singapore's national identity - we sometimes get the general sense that we are prone and good at it even though we arguably complain as much as the peoples of any other First-World nation, with our First-World problems. I am recently compelled to claim this part of our popular identity, as my rage burns against the following sin:<br />
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#1 Ignorance<br />
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'Autocratic', 'do not support freedom of expression' and other phrases and words like them are hardly explored rigorously within the context. Some parties in the conversation are demonstrating logical immaturity, lack of nuance or just not giving a flying fuck about what Singapore actually looks like in real life. Last some people looked in the direction of Singapore, they saw the Chinese Cultural Revolution complete with dictator, red stars and police state. Which is understandable because everyone knows Singapore is in China. Many great American masters of rhetoric and public figures did effectively deploy hyperbole in order to satiricize something that wasn't right about their country. Now that lots of them are dead (and thereby worthy of monuments and meeting room names), their nation's children have learnt to equate hyperbolic language with literal truth. These children of this great nation are in grave danger - of becoming ignorant retards.<br />
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To be fair, age 18 to 22 is a forgivable time to be an ignorant retard. But as the Bible tells us that God will judge teachers of the Word twice as strictly, I take issue with ignorant retards who spread their contagion.<br />
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Lots of us agree that Singapore is not a perfect place. But it sure doesn't look like the run-of-the-mill police state where the cops are coiled up like a crouching tiger ready to pounce on any hint of dissent. I know because we young men of Singapore are the Police, and the Army and the Civil Defense. Our average oppressor-of-the-people sits in a guardhouse munching on a small palm-sized green spongecake thinking of the next fever or shoulder dislocation he can get or going home to slaughter demons made by American game companies. And earning real USD from the lucky drop from a blue mob which will never come. Far be it from him that he would have to do the paperwork associated with shooting, gassing or beating the shit out of 19-year-old protesters running around on their own neatly-trimmed school lawn. He probably doesn't even understand what they're so agitated about.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Once freedom of expression is compromised at Yale-NUS, how comfortable can anyone feel that it will continue to be strenuously defended on the New Haven campus? Will Yale faculty feel uncomfortable about expressing views critical of the Singaporean government, perhaps out of fear of damage to our so-called colleagues at our satellite campus in Singapore, or perhaps out of fear of retribution from the Yale administration that has as-yet-undisclosed financial ties with the Singaporean government? Ethical standards cannot be compromised a little bit at a time and retain any force."</blockquote>
<a href="http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/mar/23/fischer-yale-nus-is-not-yale/">http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/mar/23/fischer-yale-nus-is-not-yale/</a>
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Academic research is a lot of theorycraft. But those tend to be thesis-length, that is many many tens of pages worth of content. Real content.<br />
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I cannot respect a theorycraft composed of mainly a bucket of bullshit with tiny grains of truth of 1-2 pages long. I urge the wider public to recognize that there are easier ways of obtaining those tiny grains of truth than sticking one's hand into the bucket of brownshit to look for it. Yale has been and probably is still full of smart people who know better than to odyssey through that bucket. To Singaporean counter-ragers, let me point out that the Internet is a big place, and that probably less than 50 people out of the entire Yale or wider American community have been high profiler bloggers, journalists or commenters on Yale-NUS issues. That means a lot of people not feeling the need to talk for whatever reason. Most probably aren't bothered enough, and that's fine, especially if they're busy contributing academically, creatively or otherwise to the body of American higher education. I appeal to these people to be proud of the decent things they do in their own world some seas away from here, to be proud that they are decent American students and intelligentsia. Not self-righteous, intellectually irresponsible wankers who are more interested in stirring up insecurity.<br />
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/rant<br />
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Be careful what animals get let into the conversation.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-42994781574456125782012-08-29T22:54:00.003+08:002012-08-29T22:54:40.692+08:00=ooooooooooooO HAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-72105182105806392402012-08-29T00:26:00.003+08:002012-08-29T00:30:01.498+08:00Journey together!<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="font-family: Arial;"><tbody>
<tr><td colspan="2" style="font-size: 11.5px;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Omar Khayyam was an 11th-century Persian poet, philosopher, and mathematician, whose collected quatrains are known as the <b>Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam</b>. Despite a strong Islamic background, Omar Khayyam was in fact a religious skeptic--therefore his writings were often infused with mysticism, and advocated the enjoyment of earthly delights in the face of mortality. The refrain 'Hamsáfár' means 'journey together,' and is a rallying call to all people--and like the earlier song <b>Se É Pra Vir Que Venha</b> (which shares common musical motifs), the song emphasizes the contentment to be found in living in the present.</span><br />
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Lyrics:</span></td></tr>
<tr><td style="font-size: 11.5px;" width="50%"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Khorshide cámánd sobh bár bam áfkánád<br />Keykhosro rooz badeh dár jam áfkánád<br />May khor ke monadi sáhárgah khyzan<br />Avazye áshráboo dár áyam áfkánád<br />Hamsáfár!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc;">Ey doost bia ta gháme fárda nákhorim<br />Vin yekdám omr ra ghánimát shemorim<br />Fárda ke áz in dayre Kohán dárgoárim<br />Ba háfthezarsalegan hámsáfárim<br />
In chárkhofálák ke ma dár uo heyranim<br />Fanoose khyal áz uo messali danim<br />Khorshide cheraghdano alám fanoos<br />Ma chon sovárim kándáro gerdanim<br />
Ráhe khyish gozin</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc;">The sun with its morning light the earth ensnare<br />The king celebrated the day with a wine so fair<br />The herald of dawn intoxicated would blare<br />Its fame and aroma, for time having not a care<br />Journey together!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc;">O friend, for the morrow let us not worry<br />This moment we have now, let us not hurry,<br />When our time comes, we shall not tarry<br />With seven thousand-year-olds, our burden carry.<br />This Universal wheel, this merry-go-round<br />In our imagination we have found<br />The sun a flame, in the Cosmic lantern bound<br />We are mere ghosts, revolving, the flame surround.<br />Choose your way.</span><br />
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<a href="http://christophertin.com/callingalldawns.html"><span style="color: #cccccc;">http://christophertin.com/callingalldawns.html</span></a>
XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-18334673132936501042012-06-16T21:38:00.000+08:002012-08-29T00:00:20.155+08:00DisciplineIf I want to get anything done in life, I gotta be a monk.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-92101763228487241012011-08-16T00:07:00.000+08:002012-08-29T00:10:47.278+08:00MortalityLife can be short. On hindsight, I should have wondered this myself when hurtling through treacherous mountain paths on a small metal box on wheels and sugar, driven by a complete stranger, with a crew of 6-7 in the back half of the box. The view from a sheer cliff looks really pretty, so long as one isn't angling one's head down too much.<br />
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Another in/accident this week had, again on hindsight, the potential to change my life for the rest of its duration; however long or short that might be. If that van had come at higher speed, at a more acute angle, if those bushes weren't there, if the car wasn't on the slowest lane; more things than the car could have been damaged. The impact of that van would have had more than one shockwave. Luckily, my life wasn't changed all that much.<br />
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The consideration of the "what if" disturbs me. The privilege to go on living and the possibility of it being taken away all of a sudden hasn't entered conscious thought for quite some time already, if not ever. That I haven't thought of it all this time when life hung as fragile as it always does also disturbs me further, and more importantly, my own attitude toward being a mortal being. The sudden appreciation that one isn't invincible as one would like to be. Oh dear. Though we in relatively peaceful Singapore are less likely to be shot, blown into small pieces, get lynched, starve, freeze or dehydrate than other less fortunate people in the world, that's never stopped fate from being creative or being pure cruel.<br />
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I guess I don't have much of a right to assume much more since this experience wasn't anywhere near tragic or traumatic. I'll get my chance later.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-51307016708673299882011-02-25T18:25:00.002+08:002012-08-29T00:31:58.929+08:00A Rant on Infantry Training<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a huge difference in the way we train our soldiers and the way armies which actually fight wars in the modern day (or probably in the past as well) train their soldiers. The average soldier in our army is very sure that he (or <st1:place st="on"><st1:country -region="-region" st="on">Singapore</st1:country></st1:place> for that matter) will not be involved in any large-scale conventional warfare in the near future – no conflict involving himself or those he knows anyway. The same cannot be said of armies who live ‘on the edge’ so to speak. Although commanders explain to him the purpose and application of the training, and although he himself may understand in theory, he is not willing to put effort into the training commiserating with the important function it ultimately serves – to save his life. Even commanders are tacitly willing to lower training standards because of this, or otherwise accept less than what their soldiers are capable of. There is no life-threatening purpose to spur higher training standards. Even the safety culture may be perceived to encourage this – the message is sent out: it is not worth injuring or killing oneself in the course of training over these two years, even if it means lowering training standards; one’s own life ahead of these two years is more important than the army’s developing its fullest capability to fight especially in terms of psychological preparation. This tacitly implies that not risking our life is more important than developing full combat potential – it is difficult to preach both at the same time, yet we do. When we imagine all the possible ways in which soldiers can be trained to more fully realize what it means to fight in a war, the idea that “safety culture without compromising training standards” probably rings hollow deep within us. The soldier’s purpose is to be prepared to sacrifice his life (or more accurately, make his enemy sacrifice their lives) to achieve his nation’s purposes, much like soldier ants in the natural world; the most sacrifices many of our soldiers make is to work overtime or not book-out. More angst is given to these sorts of sacrifices more than the sort of sacrifices soldiers really make when the bullets fly.</div>
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I will comment on urban operations training as I feel more confident in my apprehension of it in general. The first thing soldiers are taught are the basic drills: room-clearing, window-clearing and all variations of it; team-level, section-level, with or without grenade. There is nothing wrong in practicing drills; it is a good thing in fact, to train the reflexes and subconscious of soldiers. The training cannot stop there however, and it is the onus on unit commanders to engineer ways to develop the proficiency of soldiers further than what the textbook teaches; doing that will increase survivability. Unfortunately, there seems to be very little active emphasis on this. To be a good combatant, especially in UO, one must receive training of the mind, whether formal or informal. It is said that UO requires high levels of initiative and flexibility at the small unit level; very true. At the higher levels, officers also require good command and control in the urban environment but I shan’t touch on that so much since I’m a spec; I’m not so qualified to talk about it authoritatively.</div>
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What does it mean to train the mind? It means so many things. For example, if a grenade appears in front of a soldier at a stairwell, how does he react? There are many things he could do; 1) be stunned and die, 2) shout ‘Grenade!’ and amble down the stairs with his comrades, 3) yell at the top of his lungs ‘GRENADE’ and dive down the stairs, 4) throw the grenade somewhere away from the team, 5) throw the grenade back in the direction of the enemy 6) jump on top of the grenade and sacrifice himself to save his fellow soldiers. What determines which option a soldier will take? His mind. The soldier’s mind apprehends, or fails to apprehend the variety of options available to him (badly trained soldiers usually fail to apprehend all options except 1). To say that the quality of a soldier’s mind is dependent on the amount and quality of experience he has had is correct. I feel that it will not do to educate a soldier’s mind with theoretical slides trying to detail every single possibility in UO, nor will it be very effective to exhort soldiers to do ‘A’ when presented with ‘B’. This is because it does not breed creativity, but rather fixes the soldiers on formulaic scenarios, which is not what we want to achieve in training effective urban fighters. The best way, in my opinion, to train soldiers’ minds, is to strip the game down to its bare minimum. Yes, it is a ‘game’ so to speak; a deadly one. The barest minimum is: our side must win and the enemy must lose. No other outcome is acceptable. Often the extensions of this basic objective are: 1) Lose as few soldiers as possible, 1A) Evacuate friendly wounded as fast as possible, 2) Kill as many enemies as possible, 3) Achieve our mission objectives as fast as possible, 4) Conserve ammunition as much as possible, 5) Survive; so on and so forth. Once soldiers truly grasp this fundamental objective, as well as the fact that survival (but above that, victory) depends on it, they will start to feel purpose, and therefore motivation, and therefore be more receptive to training, if not show more initiative during it. Furthermore, once they grasp this and realize the near-infinite ways of winning and losing in the UO game, they will start to become smarter. The next thing soldiers need to know after the fundamental objective of the game is understood, is the tools they have at their disposal to achieve it. Weapons, equipment, environment, actions, comrades, the enemy’s own perception, one’s own body are tools to achieve victory. Again, as with the case of the grenade, it is the soldier’s mind which apprehends or fails to apprehend the variety of tools he has available. Once soldiers become proficient at using their tools to beat the game; that is when they have become good UO fighters. All these are really not very complicated ideas, yet we tend to lose sight of them very often for some reason.<br />
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/rant</div>
XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-91568739970581787302010-04-09T23:38:00.000+08:002012-08-28T23:39:52.744+08:00With Pride we lead, got food will eat<div>
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Well, I can think of much worse places to be. A prayer for all those in AI and to all those in AIRCRAFT CARGO RIGGERRRRRRRRXMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-44349260626538916592010-02-04T11:33:00.001+08:002012-08-29T00:07:51.104+08:00GoodbyeWill be back after the break.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-21082650469441681292010-01-31T20:56:00.002+08:002012-08-29T00:31:23.700+08:00By Wilfred Owen<span style="color: #cccccc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span><br /></span>
<dl style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.2em;"><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>What passing bells for these who die as cattle?</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Only the monstrous anger of the guns.</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Can patter out their hasty <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prayer" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Prayer">orisons</a>.</i></span></dd></dl>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<dl style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.2em;"><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Nor any voice of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mourning" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Mourning">mourning</a> save the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Choir" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Choir">choirs</a>,</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>The shrill, demented choirs of <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shell_(weapon)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Shell (weapon)">wailing shells</a>;</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bugle" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Bugle">bugles</a> calling for them from sad <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shire" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Shire">shires</a>.</i></span></dd></dl>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<dl style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.2em;"><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>What candles may be held to speed them all?</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pallor" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Pallor">pallor</a> of girls' brows shall be their <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pall" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Pall">pall</a>;</i></span></dd></dl>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<dl style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.2em;"><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,</i></span></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 2em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.</i></span></dd></dl>
XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-2945900522348086782010-01-07T09:28:00.001+08:002012-08-28T23:43:22.096+08:0049<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtvaUZvXlj1ttuVY7bKhqlLRa-C6dZ6c7ZHLzAEJPAB6VZ59aTxnMv-8cJcMvvm6VQ2e_CkyFSpt1HcAFZERPZwRoNlsOWIAGI5GTpKexreGiL13cCgYSr2UgAf0k-Pnsg6_khr2QuBHq/s1600-h/22jb7.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423804375759269890" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtvaUZvXlj1ttuVY7bKhqlLRa-C6dZ6c7ZHLzAEJPAB6VZ59aTxnMv-8cJcMvvm6VQ2e_CkyFSpt1HcAFZERPZwRoNlsOWIAGI5GTpKexreGiL13cCgYSr2UgAf0k-Pnsg6_khr2QuBHq/s400/22jb7.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-58209604532690610272009-11-02T00:25:00.001+08:002012-08-28T23:55:12.819+08:00Then came the ManOnly a few more days of living by the spinal cord like a small animal; then the rebirth into a brave new world!XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-79048352958475116132009-10-19T16:26:00.003+08:002012-08-28T23:59:57.843+08:00He died for the FatherlandEintritt in der Wehrmacht: 4 FebXMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-5836075310031514272009-10-15T22:50:00.004+08:002012-08-28T23:58:00.771+08:00impact...impactIn the mood for HidaSketch (and maybe therefore also in HidaSketch mood) in recent days it seems.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-85161387091880578212009-10-10T13:00:00.005+08:002012-08-29T00:08:57.797+08:00Yea - that's the stuffPossibility 1: Gastric ulcer<br />
Possibility 2: Subconscious psychological triggers.<br />
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The likelihood that Possibility 1 in isolation causes the bouts of nausea lately would be strange but possibly not totally off the mark. No alarm symptoms, no high-end scale pain and viable (albeit reduced) appetite point to less serious stuff though to be fair, having symptoms for 2 weeks is already a bad sign, even if life is sort of going on near normal (being too manly to admit that something worse might be afoot). A fact however which points to Possibility 2: 'stressful' situations trigger symptoms (amongst other possible triggers such as vigorous exercise, eating and in some circumstances, talking so don't call me, msn me). Possibility 2 in isolation fails to explain certain things as well: firstly, it does not account for the sudden onset and secondly, my doubt if the body can be affected solely by a screwed up superego (in the psychoanalytic sense) without alarm being communicated first through the ego.<br />
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I do hope I'm being rational enough for a casualty, even if uninformed. On the bright side, it gives me some personal impetus to mug bio (hand-written notes for entirety of last year's work completed in 6 days). Drug dose increased too.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-44983939105214046402009-10-04T23:16:00.006+08:002012-08-28T23:56:51.712+08:00Farewell comradesSee you on the other side!<br />
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In other news, no more CoH, Close Combat 5, Starcraft, Emperor: Rise of the Middle Kingdom, RO2, etc until after IB.<br />
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Appreciation to gaming m8s:<br />
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CoH: Gwin, Herr, Jarrel, Jx, Yang, Jonny, Bevan, JonSeah, Mr Seah, my bro and the Light (for letting us kope his acc eternally)<br />
Starcraft: Juzzie, Jonny, Z, Jarrel, Jx<br />
RO2: Herr, HJ<br />
Emperor: Mr KanXMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-44321595271050217372009-09-10T19:52:00.002+08:002012-08-28T23:57:27.590+08:00But heyThe Devil is a poor excuse for sin.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-20208218775489582762009-09-03T23:12:00.003+08:002012-08-28T23:56:17.162+08:00Thy Kingdom ComeThe Kingdom of Heaven is realized on Earth when divine love manifests in the soul of Man.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8163599475449658401.post-6788773229018982812009-09-01T14:05:00.002+08:002012-08-29T00:01:26.063+08:00OhGod alone bears witness to the multitude of humanity's secret and beautiful thoughts.XMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09603998901182669361noreply@blogger.com0