And all the different names for the same thing.

classroom action:

the cribs & denison witmer will be the exam tunes for spring semester 06.

I miss coffee at HV with Becky and Glowy, my sisters, Jon sometimes too, Yan1 and Tsin, Mon because silence was and I hope still is never awkward between us. We'll just sit and watch the world go by and sometimes, there might be a shriek or a giggle depending on what goes by. Ha. Becky and Glowy's were always filled with giggles and big shouts of "Noooooooooooo" ha. That I remember. It's good to just be quiet and not have to worry about what's expected of you. It's good to breathe.

Yans and nostalgia: almost made me cry babe!
you and gloria paint the streets of melbourne red ok?

All my love

the myth that exchange students don't need to do work. in-tray: 2 huge politics papers to write, 2 in-class exams, and 1 video package that we have not even started on. All in the next 1 and a half weeks. Hmm.

But aside for the useless modules, I really don’t mind cooping myself in the library that overlooks Cayuga Lake to write Peyi’s papers. I can’t write shit papers for her, no not her. Still, with Lauren as the official study partner, I think the next few late nights, with Lipton Green tea + honey and banana muffins, could be bearable.

Today, at our seat next to the window, I paused and watched the sun set. The rays streamed in, right past the gigantic panes to our table; the lake sparkled blue. The trees, no longer bare, are now embellished with pretty white flowers. Did I tell you that Ithaca College sits right atop a hill, so the view of the entire town is pretty damn sweet? That, I will miss.

Caught the screening of Invisible Children today. Inspired, enthused, moved: never returning the same.

prof kesh whips out his summer car and if it's not pimped i don't know what is. everyone stares at the lincoln limo at the parking lot and we glee with pride, he's with us! on nelson rd stood their pretty house, and barbara was definitely a pleasure to meet. she was everything prof kesh described her to be: strong, confident, witty and really funny.

max, on the hand, was not a pleasure to meet. he was NOT a puppy. as usual, i stood outside the house till they brought him to the backyard. i tell you, he was NOT a puppy. i definitely felt shitty about my fear for crawling creatures but everyone has fears no? i am going to get rid of it, some day. still, it was bittersweet anyway cause it resulted in a conversation with prof kesh, after dinner at the porch, about our deepest fears. i just love chatting to this guy, who now happens to call himself the greek god :)

Cruising down the highway, the windows are down, and the wind is fresh and crisp. The Friday weekly routine of going to the mall, the bubble tea at collegetown, the visit to the candy store, become habitual. Then meet the professors, the friends along the way; the hellos exchange, the more than thats, and the I’ll see you laters. Falling in love slowly with the norms of this foreign place, the people: never forced it. Never told myself I had to assimilate, but now I might have inched closer to the zone. After being inspired by Fun with Dick and Jane, Marie stole some daffodils, Jim Carey style, and we put them in our hair. I told you I would. Picked up a box at UPS with friendly staff. Aunty Irene said in her email dated Feb 13, soon you will be packing your luggage again. Take care as the Lord watch over you. You told me I would.

This is how it feels like before it ends, always.

the tape that had our interview footages was ruined thanks to the very responsible member, who also disappeared over easter holidays and has done shit for this project. the next 3 weeks is going to be shit i can only imagine. i missed church on an easter sunday cause i cried myself to sleep last night i was so tired i didn't want to wake up. i really wanted pops. i feel absolutely horrible i know this would never happen if i was back home. but Jesus paid it all, and i just want to live a good life for Him.

so i got out at 11pm for a walk, thinking of pretty things, and forgetting the bad ones, and accomplishing the task charmaine had set out for me.

i couldn't find flowers tho. we will make that up for that soon.

the publication begins. together we will attempt to lyricise them

the first of many to come:

when you're not ready to move on, don't force it.
cause life will wait for you
and inertia causes wear and tear.

I don’t like walking away from experiences not knowing why I was put through it. With three and a half weeks left here in Ithaca, the pieces are finally falling into place.

As Lauren and I walked back in the darkness of this very beautiful night, burdened from what we had just heard at the talk hosted by Amnesty International, cringing at our own ignorance, pounding our fists, and aching from everything that has been experienced these past weeks with FLEFF and all, I knew this burden was coming home with me.

This was what the Ithacan experience was to encompass – meeting and learning from people like Peyi and Lauren who have their hearts set on evoking change, being exposed to global issues and being affected by their severities, listening to accounts of Simon Deng (Sudan), Beatrice Fernando (Sri Lanka), both freed slaves, and so many more; watching countless number of films on human rights abuses taking place over the span of this globe and holding back the tears after every single one of them flashed the credits, and finally the unconvering and unpackaging of truths so clearly articulated in scholarly articles that are such a pain to read, but when completed you go - ah.

Only now.

How do I justify this apathy I have held on to the past decade? Life was too comfortable to see how anything could be more wrong than things not going my way.

The advantage the American college has over the Singaporean one is the liberty and enthusiasm the students have in bringing in speakers from all over, and having these amazing talks and presentations. Unfortunately, these events are hardly graced by students, cause as Lauren say, they are too busy with beer pong.

But I’m not going to spend time scorning about their level of indifference when the situation in Singapore is not any better. I wish that the spirit of looking beyond our borders and offering to collaborate with others to bring their societies out of the constant struggles they are stuck in be more prevalent on our very blessed island.

Not in the way they try to instill the spirit of volunteerism in us via the CIP our generation went through, a failed system if you ask me, hopefully it’s changing; definitely not through the dehumanizing charity shows that really, has to stop right now, and lastly, not in the narrow definition of volunteerism that in peoples’ minds mean holding a can and seeing whose can is heaviest after a day at the mrt station.

Rather, let’s just start small. Let us be aware, and not deny about situations taking place both internally and externally.

Where to start.

Did I tell you before how scared I am that when I return, I will forget. I try consciously to write it down so I remember, but it’s so easy for the human compassion to last just a mere few hours after witnessing a horrid account. Like what Joaquin Phoenix said in Hotel Rwanda: If people see this footage, they will go, Oh, God! That's horrible, and then go back to eating their dinner. Must it only be when we hit rock bottom that the human spirit senses and ache,s not temporarily, but permanently enough to want to act.

I’m not going to turn into this activist over night. I was always cynical of activists so I’m still grappling with the whole scholar vs activist thing. And besides, I’m so new to this I have much to catch up on. What this chunk of 549 words had attempted to do was to remind myself why I was brought here, and thankfully I’m not going to walk away, unaffected unchanged (and mascara bleeding a blackened tear…). I also know that by publishing this on the blog, I have to be accountable for all that I have said. Finally, it is to provoke me to think about what am I going to do with my life now that I can no longer pretend I don’t know, provoke me to think about how I can utilize the available platforms when I return, to start small, in the little things.

Baby steps. I got soul, but I'm not a soldier.

Freezes and chomps on collegetown bagel while we queue. Asks others what their favorite songs were. Easy. Reads thrashy american magazine that says oprah is putting on weight and tom has forsaken katie. We wait. We enter and I sneakily-successfully smuggled in the camera. We wait. The sun rays shine through the windows of Barton Hall, previously an airplane hangar, illuminating the words Cornell University. The Cribs. Yeah, not too bad. We wait. People start squishing. From the fifth line, the squishers squished us to the seventh. Annoying american high school kids with little concert etiquette. Even squishing had rules but they didn’t know any. Then we wait.

Emerging in striped tops, they blew us away that very minute they took the stage. The next one hour set was nothing but crazy fun, finger pointing, and Franz Ferdinand power. They look much better in real life.

Bob played the role of the emotionless coolio bassist. But he was so cool everyone noticed. He just played his bass, did his thing. Nick was the right hand man, leashing out the riffs and didn’t mind not being in the spotlight. Paul, I always thought looked really weird, but he was so serious on the drum sets’ podium, we took him seriously. Alex. Oh alex. He was a true performer, in every sense. His tone was spot on and perfect and he displayed energy in the right amount; he danced with his guitar so skillfully it looked like he did it all the time; he changed the lyrics whenever he wanted to address the Ithacan crowd; and the Kodak moment was when he mounted the platform of the stage, looked down on the crowd, closed his eyes, breathed in, and then sexily winked at the girls.

When Take Me Out played, CJ, Marie and I did what we had been practicing for four weeks. We shall remember that for a long time.

Death Cab.
I found myself just shutting my eyes, and allowing the music to overwhelm me. I found myself saying this is surreal for two years ago I had Movie Script Ending on loop and now they were playing live right in front of me. Lastly, I found myself wishing you were here, by my side, to take in the senses with me.

The crowd danced silly along to Sound of Settling and Soul Meets Body, but swayed lighters and grew still to What Sarah Said and Marching Bands of Manhattan.

But the encore. You and me have seen everything to see. From Bangkok to Calgary. And the soles of your shoes are all worn down. The time for sleep is now. It’s nothing to cry about. Cause we’ll hold each other soon. The blackest of rooms …If there’s no one beside you. When your soul embarks. Then I’ll follow you into the dark. I had the goosebumps and I swore I could have cried there and then as Ben did this solo in the darkness of the hall.

The band then wrapped up the night with Transatlanticism, and it was probably the most powerful version I have ever heard. I was contented. Satisfied. Happy.

...make me to know mine end,
and the measure of my days,
what it is;
that I may know how frail I am.
Surely every man walketh in a vain shew:
surely they are are disquieted in vain:
he heapeth up riches,
and knoweth not who shall gather them.
And now, Lord, what wait I for?

my hope is in thee.
Psalms 39: 4, 6,7

i think i felt my heart sank.
but you'll never know.