what i don’t understand

This isn’t going to be a Lee-Wei-Ling-esque sort of thing, preaching conservatism or anti-materialism. (I find it almost laughable that she can be talking about the mind-improving, values-enhancing benefits of sleeping on a hard bed and talk about her in-house gym equipment and large bubble-jet printer in the same article.)

But I still cannot fail to be amazed by the inequality that exists, or is allowed to exist, in societies today. Last night I was just about to sleep, and was reaching out my hands to switch off the lights when I took this cursory glance around the room. The air-con was on, the ceiling was more than 3 metres high, there was a computer fan whirring, reluctant to shut down, the books I had, the windows and blinds, even the awards.  And I was on this non-budget mattress (you know what this means) with an actual bed cover. And was full from eating a luxury brand of ice-cream (told you I was not particularly conservative). What point do I even have to make here, that hasn’t been made before? Perhaps the fact that I am just too privileged to complain, yet I persist in doing so.

Life is easy when the air-con is on.

born royalty, and then what?

Look at this list of people. You’ll realise how much they have accomplished.

They’re the same age as me. At the same time (and age) they’ve accomplished significantly more in their lives. Some have found their “calling” by being very good in what they do.

As the list for those born each year is created on Wikipedia, those appearing are either royalty, have been conceived through fancy technology, or were born with unique abnormalities. Yet as the years pass, each “batch” of the world’s young begins to reveal their potential and then – boomz – a talent explosion. And time begets irony: those born into this world with “royal blood” are gradually overshadowed by those who prove their worth, despite having “inferior” platelets. They don’t just kick football – they act, sing, dance, figure-skate. And just for starters, we have Miley Cyrus – no, no, I know what you’re thinking – who nevertheless has carved out quite a career for herself. Oh, did I mention? She earned $25 million last year. (Money doesn’t determine success, but it does serves as a crude barometer of success in some careers.)

I wish I could do those, or have a defining talent. Chances are, you desire the same thing too. We all do, because belong firmly in the former group of the Privileged. There are those among us who shine, but there are lights all over – on the soccer field, on the track, in the exam hall, in the studio. The world suffers from no dearth of talent, and definitely no lack of light.

We should carve out areas where we can fully excel. Not in the SS, National Education, our-only-resource-is-people sort of way. But in a revolutionary expression of creative energy.

Something – I don’t know - unique.

La.

on honduras

(This post requires some time and preliminary knowledge. Consult Wikipedia.)

This article from RebelReports is the most complete so far: it neatly sums the arguments justifying why ex-President Zelaya was unlawfully thrown out of power (and therefore why he should be reinstated). Forgive the poor introduction.

Zelaya attempted to give Hondurans the gift of participatory democracy. It was the coup leaders who violated the constitution. Those who say otherwise are wrong.

By Alberto Valiente Thoresen, RebelReports Guest Contributor

EDITOR’S NOTE: RebelReports is publishing this original article as a response to those who claim that the coup in Honduras was legal and/or constitutional and to the reporting by those media outlets that consistently repeat false characterizations of Honduran law and President Zelaya’s actions.—JS

In the classic Greek tragedy, Prometheus Bound, the playwright observes: “Of wrath’s disease wise words the healers are.” Shortly put, this story is about Prometheus, a titan who was punished by the almighty gods for having given humanity the capacity to create fire. This generated a conflict, which ended with Prometheus’ banishment and exile.

Currently, there is a tragedy being staged in the Central American republic Honduras. Meanwhile, the rest of humanity follows the events, as spectators of an outdated event in Latin America, which could set a very unfortunate undemocratic precedent for the region. In their rage, the almighty gods of Honduran politics have punished an aspiring titan, President Manuel Zelaya, for attempting to give Hondurans the gift of participatory democracy. This generated a constitutional conflict that resulted in president Zelaya’s banishment and exile.  In this tragedy, words are once again the healers of enraged minds.  If we, the spectators, are not attentive to these words, we risk succumbing intellectually, willfully accepting the facts presented by the angry coup-makers and Honduran gods of politics.

In this respect, media coverage of the recent military coup in Honduras is often misleading; even when it is presenting a critical standpoint towards the events. Concentrating on which words are used to characterize the policies conducted by President Zelaya might seem trivial at first sight. But any familiarity to the notion of ‘manufacturing of consent’, and how slight semantic tricks can be used to manipulate public opinion and support, is enough to realize the magnitude of certain omissions. Such oversights rely on the public’s widespread ignorance about some apparently minor legal intricacies in the Honduran Constitution.

For example, most reports have stated that Manuel Zelaya was ousted from his country’s presidency after he tried to carry out a non-binding referendum to extend his term in office. But this is not completely accurate. Such presentation of “facts” merely contributes to legitimizing the propaganda, which is being employed by the coup-makers in Honduras to justify their actions. This interpretation is widespread in US-American liberal environments, especially after Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said that the coup is unacceptable, but that “all parties have a responsibility to address the underlying problems that led to [Sunday]’s events.” However, President Zelaya cannot be held responsible for this flagrant violation of the Honduran democratic institutions that he has tried to expand. This is what has actually happened:

The Honduran Supreme Court of Justice, Attorney General, National Congress, Armed Forces and Supreme Electoral Tribunal have all falsely accused Manuel Zelaya of attempting a referendum to extend his term in office.

According to Honduran law, this attempt would be illegal. Article 239 of the Honduran Constitution clearly states that persons, who have served as presidents, cannot be presidential candidates again. The same article also states that public officials who breach this article, as well as those that help them, directly or indirectly, will automatically lose their immunity and are subject to persecution by law. Additionally, articles 374 and 5 of the Honduran Constitution of 1982 (with amendments of 2005), clearly state that: “it is not possible to reform the Constitution regarding matters about the form of government, presidential periods, re-election and Honduran territory”, and that “reforms to article 374 of this Constitution are not subject to referendum.”

Nevertheless, this is far from what President Zelaya attempted to do in Honduras the past Sunday and which the Honduran political/military elites disliked so much.  President Zelaya intended to perform a non-binding public consultation, about the conformation of an elected National Constituent Assembly. To do this, he invoked article 5 of the Honduran “Civil Participation Act” of 2006.  According to this act, all public functionaries can perform non-binding public consultations to inquire what the population thinks about policy measures. This act was approved by the National Congress and it was not contested by the Supreme Court of Justice, when it was published in the Official Paper of 2006.  That is, until the president of the republic employed it in a manner that was not amicable to the interests of the members of these institutions.

Furthermore, the Honduran Constitution says nothing against the conformation of an elected National Constituent Assembly, with the mandate to draw up a completely new constitution, which the Honduran public would need to approve. Such a popular participatory process would bypass the current liberal democratic one specified in article 373 of the current constitution, in which the National Congress has to approve with 2/3 of the votes, any reform to the 1982 Constitution, excluding reforms to articles 239 and 374. This means that a perfectly legal National Constituent Assembly would have a greater mandate and fewer limitations than the National Congress, because such a National Constituent Assembly would not be reforming the Constitution, but re-writing it. The National Constituent Assembly’s mandate would come directly from the Honduran people, who would have to approve the new draft for a constitution, unlike constitutional amendments that only need 2/3 of the votes in Congress. This popular constitution would be more democratic and it would contrast with the current 1982 Constitution, which was the product of a context characterized by counter-insurgency policies supported by the US-government, civil façade military governments and undemocratic policies. In opposition to other legal systems in the Central American region that (directly or indirectly) participated in the civil wars of the 1980s, the Honduran one has not been deeply affected by peace agreements and a subsequent reformation of the role played by the Armed Forces.

Recalling these observations, we can once again take a look at the widespread assumption that Zelaya was ousted as president after he tried to carry out a non-binding referendum to extend his term in office.

The poll was certainly non-binding, and therefore also not subject to prohibition.  However it was not a referendum, as such public consultations are generally understood. Even if it had been, the objective was not to extend Zelaya’s term in office. In this sense, it is important to point out that Zelaya’s term concludes in January 2010.  In line with article 239 of the Honduran Constitution of 1982, Zelaya is not participating in the presidential elections of November 2009, meaning that he could have not been reelected. Moreover, it is completely uncertain what the probable National Constituent Assembly would have suggested concerning matters of presidential periods and re-elections. These suggestions would have to be approved by all Hondurans and this would have happened at a time when Zelaya would have concluded his term. Likewise, even if the Honduran public had decided that earlier presidents could become presidential candidates again, this disposition would form a part of a completely new constitution. Therefore, it cannot be regarded as an amendment to the 1982 Constitution and it would not be in violation of articles 5, 239 and 374. The National Constituent Assembly, with a mandate from the people, would derogate the previous constitution before approving the new one. The people, not president Zelaya, who by that time would be ex-president Zelaya, would decide.

It is evident that the opposition had no legal case against President Zelaya. All they had was speculation about perfectly legal scenarios which they strongly disliked. Otherwise, they could have followed a legal procedure sheltered in article 205 nr. 22 of the 1982 Constitution, which states that public officials that are suspected to violate the law are subject to impeachment by the National Congress. As a result they helplessly unleashed a violent and barbaric preemptive strike, which has threatened civility, democracy and stability in the region.

It is fundamental that media channels do not fall into omissions that can delay the return of democracy to Honduras and can weaken the condemnation issued by strong institutions, like the United States government. It is also important that individuals are informed, so that they can have a critical attitude to media reports. Honduras needs democracy back now, and international society can play an important role in achieving this by not engaging in irresponsible oversimplifications.

Alberto Valiente Thoresen was born in San Salvador, El Salvador. He currently resides in Norway where he serves on the board of the Norwegian Solidarity Committee with Latin America

I believe that Zelaya was deservedly thrown out of power. Currently, the most powerful argument for his removal is that the “opinion poll” he was about to launch nationwide carried a rather obvious motive of him wanting to extend his power. Given then that it would not be long before he would do so anyway, so this was just a pre-emptive strike on the part of the High Court.

Yet is intent unlawful? Are pure motives which potentially violate the constitution punishable by law? If I may use an analogy, if you spot a man behaving very suspiciously like a terrorist on the MRT, does the police have the right to arrest and detain that man? And if you see a man whose hands clutch a LV handbag running down the shopping district, will you stop him and wrestle him to the ground if you suspect that he is a snatchthief, or will you let him pass? He could be rushing back to his wife, who left her bag in another shop. Her bag could contain her asthma inhaler, and even a second could be critical to her life and death. (This will be familiar if you watched iRobot.) Don’t scream “false analogy” too quickly: the latter scenario and Zelaya’s case aren’t too different. He was on the verge of releasing his “opinion poll” nationwide.

So what are the odds? Which is the rational choice for us: wrestling the man down or letting him run by? We’d never know, would we?

Although if you’re a Singaporean, we already know the answer.

Singapore’s divorce rates

Just yesterday, I honestly didn’t think it too polite to interrupt my EXCO’s discussions to rotate them 6 times around just to ensure everyone got a nice window view at some time throughout the meeting. I didn’t bother in the end. Eventually I instructed my vice-chair to remove the labels on the chairs when I realised that they were pasted behind the chairs (and no, I don’t have to tell you it’s a pun). What particularly grossed me out was the text and background colours: pink camouflaged too well into the purple background. But I must say that although I didn’t see any entirely black ones, I found the white text on green background quite refreshing.

The meeting ended and I went to the library because I was waiting for my friend to finish his training before we went to J8 for a movie. I remember wanting to borrow 8 SAT books on all the SAT (II) subjects, 3 encyclopaedias and 3 DVDs. I knew those were reference materials and therefore borrowing it would be illegal. I knew I had to make a run for it – and thankfully I managed to hurry out in time before the librarians caught me. They were arranging themselves on newly-arrived swivel chairs in the admin booth, trying to find the chair with the colour and design which they felt expressed their true identity.

We were catching the film (500) Days of Summer starring Joseph Levitt and Zooey Deschanel – brilliant stuff. But we noticed this family of three – a mother and her two young kids – sitting the side. Ever so often, a GV manager would go up to the row they were sitting on, use a loud hailer to tell the row to rearrange themselves, and switched people around while they were doing so. The worst part was when two of them refused to sit together because one of them stepped on the other’s toes. The manager could only look on helplessly as they argued across at least 1 person.

By the time it ended it was around 10, so we went home. I took the train from Bishan to Clementi, and as I waited for it, I noticed 3 married couples (all wearing their wedding gowns) standing at the same door. The moment the train doors opened, they rushed in. The brides sat spaced out on one row, while their grooms sat opposite them. As the train began to move, they began to swap around seats: it was at about Novena that I observed no man would want to sit next to his wife. The entire train carriage could only look at a stunned atmosphere of silence enveloped on the train.

For some reason this reminded me that I would arrange the letters of the word THERMOMETER at the height of the SARS crisis, then when there previously wasn’t one, I was made to arrange the cards bearing the letters EXAMINATION. Or help coaches choose athletes for the school team – the last time I checked, coaches knew their ability rather well. I wasn’t too sure if I should help, so I offered a few suggestions (9450, to be exact), most of which were turned down anyway (9449). Why two people would refuse to sit together at a theatre I can understand, but why three married couples would enter a train compartment, and not choose – there and then – to sit on the same row as their spouses, I simply cannot fathom.

Little wonder, I thought, as I exited the train, why Singapore’s divorce rates have been accelerating.

Help.

I went to the Clementi swimming pool a few bus-stops from my house. The 2-hour swim was exceptional, but the pauses in between laps to clear the fog in the goggles were not. The water is salty, murky at the bottom, and has a pH of 5.7.

Okay I made the last quality of the water up. The water pH is really just 5.3. But as I was swimming, it seemed apparent to me that I would face a holiday without much to look forward to. PW OP would dominate till November, and SAT would just kill everything else. And then I have friends who have very warped notions of what constitutes a holiday – those with apparently have no time to just Stop and take just one break. Well, I wish them an earnest “good luck”, but little more – I honestly hope they do well in their endeavours, and not break down in the process of making a great success of their lives.

Of course there are the other friends need to take time off expand their “social circles”. As for me, I don’t know what will turn out of these holidays – the swim itself was done out of pure boredom. I don’t want to just read and revise for the SATs. My last real holiday before a 12-month grill-session are so precious.

But frankly, who gives a damn? Do you honestly know or understand the puerile idiot writing this? (Don’t bother answering please, I’m bored.) I just want to spend these holidays with people close to me, but they are obviously out to make great successes in their lives and consequently spare little time for trivial things like rest. My fantasies about some possibility of rest were smashed not too long ago after an otherwise enjoyable trip.

What more can I look forward to – can you believe there are people who take the previous post about dogs literally? The content in the past two posts bear testament to the beginnings of a mental anguish taking root, requiring password protections. I am listening to Leona Lewis’ “Happy” on such a regular basis. Things of so much significance to me have just moved across the road, setting up signposts and distributing brochures for their future employees in a wondrous future.

So what if it hurts me? So what I break down? So what if this world just throws me off the edge, my feet run out of ground?I gotta find my place, I wanna hear my sound, don’t care about all the pain in front of me, cause I’m just trying to be happy, just wanna be happy.

Help.

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The Pomos

And so it goes. I’m sure I’m not alone in this – on the first night before the GP paper, as you lie sleepless in bed (you think that you are sleeping earlier, but in fact you only really sleep after 1) you begin to visualise yourself finishing the exams. Or at least you try, but it’s all just a blur. Then the next few days of exams come and go, and each day you find it exponentially difficult to visualise yourself doing the next paper.

And today: math, then lit. I went into the exam hall feeling slightly confident, then the decline in morale was palpable in the air. Lisa complained about my periodic slamming episodes of my correction “applicator” (serious – that’s what they call it) coupled with the shuffling of papers beneath my pencil case. I couldn’t believe when I entered the Lit exam hall – the feeling was emptiness, but peaceful emptiness. So I did the lit paper, as one should, and our class went to island creamery.

But it wasn’t the usual “boomz” exuberance I would experience right after the exams. (and yes, I wrote “boomz” for a geog volcanoes question, part of the dare between the A13A geoggers) Instead it was a gradual realisation that the examinations were over. I attribute this to perhaps me not being able to do well for Math: in the aftermath of an exam, you think nothing of everything, and this vacuum is filled by the negativity that remains.

The real question is, what am I going to do for the holidays? I’m starting a list in which you are expected to continue, so do so:

1. Finish up all my unread Economists and TIME, or the equivalent of a mountain on my now-barren desk landscape.
2. Read Hamlet and Revenger’s Tragedy, next year’s lit texts.
3. Just stare blankly at the screen and re-listen to Mariah’s, Whitney’s, Reba’s latest albums.
4. Have an intense 4D3N stayover attempt at Aaron’s, Vincent’s and my house (together with wenjie and if it doesn’t impose on too many people, 4C), including creative sandcastle contests, random bicycle riding, badminton, movies, cards, board games, more cards, and swimming
5. Midnight cycling. (approach if interested and have lots to talk.)
6. Run weekly or bi-weekly. (but this is already happening)
7. Borrow and read books from the library. (This is likely.)
8. Meet up with my beloved and dearly missed 4am Gang
9. <Help the poor: leave a comment>

I love bridge.

I missed school and all my friends. For an entire period of 2 weeks, I completely missed school – first, I was ill, then there was AYC. That obviously means that I have to blog.

The Asean Youth Convention was an inaugural event, involving students from 4 countries in the ASEAN+3. As a Facil (facilitator), my job was to facilitate group discussions and bond the group together. Robyn helped me out as my admirable co-facil, and we were in charge of Group 5 and Vietnam Hai (2). It was quite an experience – seeing people from different worlds and so on.

But this post isn’t about that. It’s about the bonding that the facils – and especially the ones from A13A – had. I would dollop a little doubt that AYC would have been even half as fun without Lisa (Boy-lovin’ bitch), Sally (Korean ah-mah!), Robyn (9-inch what?), Matthias (energiser bunny), Claire (my “closest” friend), Jingyi (makes a loud huh noise during math lecture), Nghi (give me a neck and tie now).

A little shout-out here to all the facils too – Lyn, Charm, Yi Tong, Joyce, Hong Yan, Weng Keong, Linxi, Kai Li, Zi Le, Jess, Glendon, Zan, Phoebe, Zheng Kai. And our cute, pretty SLOs – Jaren and Joelle (uh… respectively). Oh and Zhong Ming, Clarence, and those people who made it a great experience for us.

But still.

We stayed over at YMCA Metro in the basement bunks till about 2.30 am. The Monopoly game was quite hectic, and we were joined by Zhong Ming, the alternative chair, who was quite fussed over by the girls for his oh-so-unique concoction of geeky intellect and boyish charms. Clarence also came, and he got similar treatment, but more for his Aussie accent. The monopoly game began to devolve into senseless chaos until I valiantly (and admittedly, quite brilliantly) negotiated deals with the players on the board. Alas! My invocations toward a more playable game were crushed when they decided to play a mix of truth or dare.

“Let’s go in the next round, okay? Guys?”

I was quite bored (those around the table apparently weren’t, given Lisa’s impressive ability to invent truths and dares you wouldn’t realise could even exist in a somewhat decent mind), until we decided to play Bridge. The game is quite, quite intriguing and I found I had a very decent appetite for risk. The obsession with Bridge lasted throughout the convention – occasionally we would slip out of lectures and play it on the tables besides the theatrette. Robyn memorably commented on the addict-like nature with which we played the game. Then we would sneak back in just in time for Q&A. The Organising Comm obviously wasn’t too pleased and they made that known, after which we the decent facils sat through the entire lecture.

Another time we played at J8 before that night’s performance. For some reason we had 4 folds in a row. Statistically speaking, we reduced the chances of another group of 4 bridge players getting that. Oh! The sacrifices I make to make this world a better, happier place!

Stayover #2

Stayovers always excite me. There’s something magical about not returning home to do something – a project, a movie marathon, or just plain cards. But I simply don’t dig the immense enthusiasm where bathing and brushing teeth are concerned especially during camps. People just can’t wait to go and take a brush (cool) or take a bath (even cooler) and it’s almost like an uncontrollable urge. I’m going to hypothesise that it’s a communal thing that deepens the sense of community.

But we stayed over at Lisa aunt’s house! It was wonderful stuff. Before that we had the closing party, in which we performed a very phail version of the batch dance, which ended at 10:30. By the time we reached her house it was midnight, and we stayed till 5:30 with gaga gossip and blessed bridge. It was très cool. The entire convention experience was wrapped up very nicely like that, and at 6 the “next morning” we headed back to YMCA metro for breakfast.

My most important takeaway from AYC?

I love bridge.

And now it’s back to reality for me. It’s going to be a real hectic 2 weeks for me – planning and executing a tournament, finishing an overdue PW report draft, catching up on 2 weeeks of Geog, GP and Lit. If you see me down the corridor, ask me how I’m doing.

Hopefully we’ll get to catch up – unless I give a hurried smile and rush down the corridor, buried in my busy little existence.

Transformers, High School Musical 2 and Mamma Mia

I signed up for Y-camp because I wanted to try something new. I didn’t know it clashed with my revision schedule for the CT1s. I was later told that a straight 4As/5As is an ideal to work towards in JC  life. Then I went for Y-camp.

I was attached to Bo (not real name), my buddy for the 3D2N camp with them. We call them “benes”, short for beneficiaries in the camp. The camp really was for intellectually disabled persons, from different welfare organisations, to challenge themselves (“Y Camp Challenge”) in creative arts, high elements, camp craft, and a little song & dance.

Bo didn’t dig any of that. He is 24 years old and has Down Syndrome. He is plump and is shorter than me by about 2 heads. He has a life, and a face, scarred, because another chromosome decided to slot its way to his genetic makeup. Since the 1-day orientation before the camp, I got to know him as a person whose life revolved around movies, songs, dances. That filled his life since he got to know the movies that would dominate a person of around 12.

Bo didn’t do much of the other activites. Where others were playing obstacle course games, he spent his time under the shade, singing. We sang songs anywhere from the range of Doh-Re-Me to “My Heart Will Go On”, from “You Are the Music in Me” to “Fabulous” from High School Music 2. It was pretty much the same for the rest of the camp too. Where others were doing high elements, he was under the pavilion writing letters, two apologising to our camp group leader (Val) and how he promised to “play the next time”. He wrote one for me, telling me how “we good brother” and “we sing high school musical and mamma mia together”, in kid-type. I still keep that piece of blue paper. Where others (even physically handicapped benes) went for dragon boating, we sat on the bench facing the sea, and started singing national day songs. He didn’t do the next activity (camp craft) either – he sat on the pavement drawing Transformers figures and Pokemon balls. So we integrated that drawing into the camp craft structure.

At the end of the camp, there was nothing short of a full-blown emofeste. Some volunteers cried – a few out of pity, others out of genuine friendship. I didn’t shed any tears, not because I didn’t already miss my bene, but I have never believed in emofestes as a good way to end any thing.

It seems easy to form a friendship with Bo. Start singing a song he likes, and he’ll sing along. Start playing dance music, and you’ll see him race in front of the stage and dance with a passion you might not have seen in a long time. (I was there with him.) Get him to talk to his “clique” (fellow benes from Y-stars, a YMCA dance group for down syndrome people) consisting Bjorn and Terry (not real names), and he’ll be very much involved. He admires Bjorn, in particular, although the latter is almost unresponsive to the brotherly love that Bo showers upon him.

I should state that we should reflect the ways to serve the disadvantaged. I did, but that wasn’t what struck me most. What puzzled me at the beginning of the camp is what they attach to a relationship. Their desires of their relationships and life are so transparent and unmistakably innocent it strikes anyone as almost simplistic. It could well be, but my relationship with Bo was genuine.  I don’t think I’ll forget him for a long time, and on the last day he seemed to show that the sentiment was mutual. Another bene’s mother would help bring him home. Hugging me for the fifth time, he stared deep into my eyes.

“I’ll see you next Saturday at Y-stars outing. Okay?”

As he stepped into the cab, he asked that again. I nodded, knowing full well I might not see him again.

the last day of school

The last day of school always holds some special significance. In A13A, it meant that a quarter of our JC life had finished. That held some form of significance. I hope A13A gets to bond more. It’s going to be a pity if a bunch of nice, genuine, and thinking people are trapped by divisions.

In any case, here’s a peak into an extraordinary day into my life (otherwise I wouldn’t have posted it here, would I?). I waited for about 2 hours for debates. I didn’t get to debate, i.e. I’m not selected into the ACJC I/C debates team. I am beginning to be quite immune to such disappointments, especially in debates. It’s hardly new – because you are lacking, therefore you should not enter the team. Because you do not enter the team, you are lacking. Because you are lacking, therefore you should not enter the team. Because… ad infinitum

But the purpose of this post is not for such banal things like competitions and selections – people who aren’t selected for anything, get over it! If people think you don’t matter, don’t make yourself matter to them. Be someone else altogether to someone else. You don’t need to be good for causes or people which demean you as a person. Don’t degrade yourself. So what if you aren’t good in that field? Don’t encourage yourself with the “you weren’t selected because the team requires synergy.” It’s only hasty, oops-i-can-think-of-anything-else-to-say-therefore-i’ll-say-this-feel-good-crap dialogue your ears should hardly bother about. Coaches use that often. It means i’m-sorry-but-you-suck. (Haha don’t you even think of labelling me a cynic, because you are thinking just that too. Own up to it – you aren’t good, so do something else. Be someone to who really matters.)

After being mildly worn out during debates of not doing anything, I deliberated, then went to AstroNight. The stars weren’t important; the people there were. I met wenjie, who went out with me for dinner. (teehehee, wenjie. better hope someone doesn’t read this!) I realised they – aaron, renyong and him – were going to aaron’s house for a competition the day after. So I decided to tag along for a stayover, with everyone else – after all, it was the last day of school.

It was 11:30 when they ended the Night officially, and packed up. So the four of us went to his house. The attic was large, and comprised two rooms. (For those who haven’t been there, it’s quite a treat. There’s childhood toys, music CDs, X Boxes, and even a drum set.) They were having a little trouble captioning their photos, so I started playing videos on Youtube. Music, Live performances, Vlogs. It was entertaining, though I admit I was initially quite a distraction.

Later aaron collapsed in fatigue, so wenjie and I stayed up with the Mac. We started to listen and sing pop songs – mainly the divas – and began about two hours worth of singing. Obviously only the divas featured in our playlist – Celine, Leona, Mariah (a pity no Whitney this time) – I’m positive that only they can sing, and sing well. Wenjie has perfect pitch, but he occasionally “over-estimates” the vocal latitude of the singer. So he is consistently about a semitone away from the note. (This is a problem which consistently plagues a good deal of guys when singing songs sung by ladies. The pitch goes high, the notes waver, the voice lacks punch. Transposing the song an octave or another lower is less of a sin than losing the power and tone, I realised. )

So anyway renyong joins us and it’s about half an hour before we sleep. I couldn’t go down and retrive my bottle, so I was left thirsty in the attic. It was really because of Snowball, aaron’s dog, who barked incessantly at the sound of our voices and footsteps down the stairs. It’s not wise to wake your host’s family up, but it is especially foolish to do so at 2:30 in the morning.

So we wake up at 8 the next day. They do their rehearsals and mock-ups. (They used a very considerable amount of effort and time – that much was evident.) I do my youtube. A little more singing resumes. But the mood is serious. We have brunch at 10. They leave for their competition, and I leave for home.