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Monday, July 17, 2006

Everyday I remain in this world I feel more and more sick of myself.

In our lives, we meet all sorts of people sprouting crap-- about how success defines a person, about how marks are the end all and be all, about how studying is our number one priority, about how our image remaining as pristine and clear as ever is more than vital, about doing evreything they tell you otherwise you can't be promoted to the next level.

Like I said, lots of crap that pour out of rivets and springs that lie embedded in the rock face.

And everytime I sit at my desk I think how stupid this is, and about how we're wasting our time; our lives; our childhood.

You know something else I hate? Or rather, the number one thing that I hate?

The fact that everything we do is for marks. Even the things like community service. They make it seem that you have to do it, otherwise you won't get bronze for NYAA and go to the school across the road. They make it so that it becomes a chore, an extra burden in your already 100000-tonned schoolbag. They make it sound like you have to find a community service, and fit it around your hectic schedule.

Well now I see something in clearity, much more than before. And I have one thing to say, whether it offends or not.

What the fuck are we doing?

Elie Wiesel demonstrates and dictates to us so clearly the horror of concentration camps. How he watched his father die before him, and was almost glad for his death, to ease his burden in the camps. He narrates how he saw a son abandon his father.

Has HItler made monsters of us all?

Of course he has. Not a single spark of humanity has been spared -- the nazis, his supporters, the victims, and worst of all, those indifferent.

The presidents, even the Pope, who could have destroyed and put an end to such suffering like a dam in a river.

Everyone else.

While6 million people were tortured, killed, exterminated, treated like animals, because animals, the world sat back and watched, pretending that it was just a horro flick, and that after 3 hours, it would end.

You would think that that was past.

Well, you'd be wrong.

We're doing the exact same thing now.

Ignoring those who are suffering, who are dying, who have skeletons for playmates and corpses for buddies.

But what makes this all worse?

We can't do anything about it.

We're soupposed to be the hope of the future.

We're a damn hell dead hope. Screwed up hope. Misplaced hope.

And unless we stand up, fight back and say something, nothing's going to change.

Holocast no #2.

Good job, Hitler.

I'm still selfish as ever. I know I should help, but how can I? How can I stem a flowing tide? But wait, even more importatntly, do I want to? Do I want to risk a 'good education'? A good life? Adults' and teachers' scorn? Rejection? Struck out as an outcast?

Because if I can't, and everyone else reading this can't, then you've just won, Fuhrer.

You swore to rid the Jews, a dirty race.

You've done more.

You've rid humanity.

[ T-ray* ] blogged @ 8:09 AM

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Life is a eucatastrophe.

For oft when we find ourselves submerged in depths of darkness and despair, of which we cannot even see the shadow of the light that shines above us; when we are at the very last of our wit's end, we find ourselves grasping on fearfully to that shred of hope and that is all that keeps us alive.

We may feel completely drowned in the darkness, in the sorrow, in the pain, the anguish, the fear, the despair. But there is no denying the fact that we do not simply let go of the thread that spares us from our fate.

We cling on, without knowing or understanding why, to that thred of hope.

We cannot comprehend why, when we are in such levels of despair, our heart cannot stop believing, cannot stop hoping, cannot stop our faith.

Some madness, we belive, has overcome us, and we can't help but hope.

What is it that keeps us going? The insane thought that we would one day crawl out of this abyss, battered and bruised, broken and chained, but yet feel the cool breeze cooling your aching body, and feel the gentle rays of the sun twinkle and dance in your eyes?

Or the good times that we had before, and hope to have again?

Life is not, I realise, about being happy all the time. That is just impossible. Even the happiest man in the world must have some moments of sadness; of grief. If we were to set an aim like that, all of our lives would be but an utter failure, the shadow of which is blood stained and matted with grime.

No, life is about the simple, single happy times that lift you up.

When you stand, at the top of a mountain, and stare down at the wonderous world that God created. You can see a shining spots of light that are sprinkled here and there in the sky. Down below a valley of inconcievable depth greats you and delights you with its mystery.

When you tube down a 300m slope, dizzy and exhilirated, spin on some insane ride, and run, laughing and yelling all the way, with your friends, home. Just when you think that life could not be any better, you witness, up close and personal, a spparkle of fireworks that crackle and sing along with you.

When you stand with your friends in school, in the classroom, at Orchard road, atyour house. And you can feel the laughter and joy reverbrating through yourself and the joy and love that radiates from every raptured face.

When you paddle about in a quarry now filled with water 30m deep, splashing your friends with the fresh water.

When you blast the music, and stand in the open and dance -- by yourself, with your friends, with your family.

Even the simple things, like when you watch an incredible movie, and you step out with your friends, stunned and touched.

When you laugh.

Sing.

Play.

Pray.

Throw off every cover of maturity and puberty and act like a five-year-old.

Make someone smile.

Love.

Stand together in a circle and dance.

That's hope.

[ T-ray* ] blogged @ 7:39 AM

Friday, July 07, 2006

I have come to the conclusion that the school is a dictatorship.

Minus the fact, of course, that we do not worship the principal (though she is undoubtedly really nice), and we definetly do not worship certain *ahem* others.

There is no running away. No matter where we go, no matter what we do, it haunts us with every fibre of its being. You can no more escape from the shadowed vision of it than you can escape a tracker that is flowing through your blood. With every movement it mocks us, jeers us. With every thought it tugs on the back of that thought and huddles along, grinning at you menacingly with its ugly and vile teeth.

Even when you're supposed to be having fun, and you shouldn't be affected by the workload that if piled up will reach no less than the height of Mt Olympus. Take the holidays for example. It's supposed to be a great time -- a relaxing time when you dump your homework on the ground, jump on it and yell 'See you in a month!'

But no. Not here.

Here the holidays come, and we eagerly rush home to lounge and do whatever we please --instead we find a pile of homework waiting impatiently for us on the table. Even if we leave it alone and deign to touch it, everytime you turn on the Tele or open up a novel, it jumps at you in the face, haunting you with every step.

And that's just the holidays.

Why is the school term so crammed with homework? Say we take a board, and we paste big sheets of paper onto it, so that the entire face of the board, save the small tiny areas where the papers cannot reach, is covered. That would be enough, no?

NO. The teachers just cram more in, right into the tiny little spaces that could hardly be called a space, more like a dot. Many pieces of paper overlap, but they don't care. Better to be safe than sorry, they say.

Even now, as I'm typing this, I'm worrying about the math practices that I should be doing right now, but I can't find because my entire desk is strewn with files and papers and my drawer is spilling books.

And the thing that really gets me everytime, is the fact that the school is stealing out childhood. Every happy memory that we're supposed to have right now -- we don't even have time for that. We go to school and somehow get to recess. Then to lunch. Then, if we're lucky and don't have CCA, we go home to do homework. Eat some dinner, cram some more. Then we go to bed.

I'm so sick of this. I'm sure everyone is sick of this.

Isn't this supposed to be the time where we rest and relax, before the 'real world' hits us like an out of control lorry? Isn't this supposed to be the time when we go to school and our biggest worries are 'Am I having a bad hair day?'

What bullshit.

They say that they're preparing us for the real world, and yeah, I can understand that. But hey, ever heard of something called 'going mad before you reach 15 because some people decide that they want to run your life for you and give you so much work and stress so that you can't get through one hour a day without stressing?'

I'm so tired. And I'm sure everyone is tired too.

We memorise the test timetable like a handyman memorising his tools. We can't do anything about it, because at the end of the day, the teachers and principal and the school and the education board decide everything.

We cannot even find one day free in a school term, when we can relax and the worry of homework is not itching at you.

What happened to our childhood?

Time is precious to us because we're worried that we don't have anymore time to finish mugging, not because we're afraid that each minute is a mintue closer to our death.

Well, do your work and listen to the teachers and the adults (because they're always right), try to get the best marks because the teachers and adults tell you to (and they're always right), count the hours on your fingers and keep struggling through the marsh of work and stress because the teachers and adults tell you too (and they're always right), but now I have something to ask the teachers, and the adults, and the principals, and the school board.

Do you think that every single one of us here will be able to push upcurrent against the stress tide, and even make it to the age of, say, nineteen?

[ T-ray* ] blogged @ 3:03 AM

Saturday, July 01, 2006

I can't believe that England lost! So heartwrenching. So depressing. They played really well though, especially after ROoney was sent off; deserved to win. It was so sad and unfair!! At least they made all England fans proud.

Portugal are cheats.

I also can't believe that France beat Brazil!

And now both England and Australia are out.

Loving 'em both.

[ T-ray* ] blogged @ 9:12 PM