Note to self: Weirdest injury to date

WTF?
How did I get armpit abrasion from jogging?!?

Inner thigh abrasion, yes. But armpit abrasion???

Qualnet is over!

No more late nights!

No more pesky mobility models. No more Random Waypoint, Random Walk, Reference Point Group Mobility~~!

NO more AODV, ZRP, DSR, OLSR-INRIA (even though what these routing protocols do continue to elude me...)

No more throughput, end to end delay, delivery ratios

No more spatial dependency, mobility metrics, or connectivity graph.

No more .nodes, .locations, .movements, .configs, .stats.

No more abuse of my lappie with meaningless simulations of Scenarios 1 - 4, 100/125/150 nodes, 600x600/800 terrains.

No more attraction points, source and destination locations.

.
.
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.
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But still got exams.

Sigh.

Comp. Engineering..... (let's say it together now) SUX!

Demented show

Demented Movie

This is so lame, but soooo funny~~~~!

Don't watch it! It's lame!

No no no, watch it! It's so funny!

Argh.. watever, you watch and decide yourself.
Or don't watch it and decide yourself. Huh?

Watever...

Sir Rodney and Kenny (no) G

NUS piano ensemble presents...
La Chanson Et Danse

The musical performance at UCC on wednesday was quite an event for me to act the high class artsy fartsy dork I am not - other than being most improperly dressed for the event. I should have been fashionably late to pull the act off better, but no... - I was on time. How can I be late for your performance? =)

I am constantly led to wonder if cultural well-behaviour meant the refusal of the best viewing seats located at the sides of the upper levels of the theatre. If it does, I might have been the only ruffian in the theatre to enjoy the best in viewing and listening pleasures that night with me in bird eye view of everyone else, and the piano's lid providing an indirect projection of the acoustics from the soundboard within.

As the pianists played their melodious tunes, my mind drifted to thoughts on the value of Music. ...

What is the value of Music? Music has been a foreign agent to me (I can't tell my Renaissance from my Baroque.) My reference to music here is NOT contemporary music, but those that you hear on Symphony 92.4FM or in Victoria Concert Hall - contemp. music, I can deal with. I have never had any music lessons, unless you consider those immensely short periods of towgay readings and recorders in pri school and sec 1 and sec 2. The only music education I have is from MTV and radio. And from the umpteenth times I sang Mari Kita in school.

In the performance, the pianists played with absolute passion. It is clear the amount of practise they have on those ivories - how long have they been playing at them? 10 years? 15 years? What is the total expenditure for educating a person to reach performance level in piano? 30K? I have always wanted to be able at the piano without considerations of the efforts and costs behind it, but now I am led to consider - if I had the time and resources to pursue piano playing, would I have had played the piano or engage in other more profitable activities? I am not sure. I am quite a realist, and a bit of a dreamer.

Anyway, back to the performance.

I am quite sure half of all expert piano players look quite dorky - from the current sample size. They play well, but move with manners of primary school kids going up the stage to collect their book prizes at End of Year ceremonies. But maybe I am just being dismissive and jealous at their skills.

Sir Rodney captured me with his trance-like behaviour when he played 'L'isle Joyeuse' - he looked quite normal without any artistic bearings, but when he played the piano, it almost seemed like he was natural with the keys.

Sir Rodney

At times, he was smiling, at times he was frowning; at times his body was flowing to the soothing music, head nodding in agreement, at times he was repelled by the erratic rhythm which he couldn't stop playing no matter how hard he tried while his head shake in vehement disagreement - it was almost like watching a possessed being in action. I am in awe of his involvement, I seriously am.

What put me off was Mr. Maksim-wannabe playing Elektrik. Notwithstanding the wayang-ness of his appearance (with ditzy Windows Media Player visualisation on display, he sat on the piano bench and made the audience waited for a good few minutes before a 'We're sorry for the technical error' abruptly ended his first appearance.) His second appearance at the end of the performance played a Maksim-style techno-piano piece, which is, no doubt, quite nice to hear. The only fault I found was the background music being too overwhelming and drowned his piano playing. And his repugnant parakeet hairdo. And his brown coat. He would have been better off wearing a black tee and jeans - that will show a sleek fuss-free style centered at optimal performance, nothing grandiose, nothing superfluous.

The Man himself

Birthday in cluster kitchen

There was a gathering in the cluster kitchen yesterday late at night which led to the celebration of Gurkha's birthday. Not that anyone knew it to be Gurkha's 21st birthday beforehand.

I was recovering from my jog in the kitchen, when Jeremy 1 came in and chatted with me about how I should go and join him to swim and 'forget about jogging. It's so monotonous'. Then Phu came in with his rice cooker and seafood to prepare for next day's breakfast. And we started talking about how abs almost always develop disproportionately with respect to our body's lateral symmetry.

Then Jeremy 2 came in and we started talking about the Taichi man who taichis almost everyday and how Jeremy 1 would trade his unobstructed view of the Taichi man for my obscured view of the playground (which comes with chio bus sometimes.) We then hitched a cunning plan to ambush Mr. Taichi (just to test his skills), with details being Jeremy 1 jumping out of his window onto him, while I make sure to poke Mr. Taichi into Jeremy 1's landing area, if Mr. Taichi ever come to realise Jeremy 1's diabolical move and step aside.

Taichi Man and his Jeremy Subduing Palm

Soon after our whimsical thoughts subside in decreasing bouts of innane laughters, China Guy came in to cook noodles and we came to realise the gathering to be the most attended one ever (other than the first formal cluster meeting.)

To make things fun, we decided to sing Happy Birthday to the next guy who comes in, just because we were really bored and obstinate about going back to our rooms to study for our testsssssss.

China Guy 2 came in and we sang. Surprised at our misinformation, he was quick to point out the day to be not his birthday (but he would graciously accept any presents we have for him) - and we immediately digressed to examine the Pandoric contents of the upper freezer. To date, none of us present then have laid claim to the unidentified ice-cream box of what Jeremy deduced, after serious inspection, to be bloody fingers from some unresolved murder case.

Cluster leader came in and we sang. Not his birthday. We continued to delve deeper into the lower freezer area, asking for identification of all the possessions in the fashion of handling Katrina's aftermath.

Then Gurkha came in, clad in his shorts and generously endowed natural buffers, holding his toiletries in his hands. And we sang. Surprised at how informed we are, he gave us his usual 1 sec blank look and expressed his thanks to us. Some of us, no... most of us were dubious and thought him to be 'Lamb-Chop-Play-Alonging' with us, and we asked for proper authentication, only to have him properly authenticated by his IC.

Glorious day. 20-10-2005. Some of us should go and buy 4D, using permutations of the numbers.

All of us scurried back to our own room to dig for long-cached universally-accepted presents for Gurkha - Jeremy 2 got him some chocolates, cluster leader too (what's with everyone having chocolates as present reserves??) In excellent and fashionable taste, I gave him the USB-Handphone Charger given out during HSBC's MA talk, reminding myself I SHOULD get some chocolates for federal reserves.

And I walked to NUH to get him a tub of Haagen Daz for his birthday treat as well. He is, after all, my favourite Ghurka.

what Gurkha might have been some years ago..

What do I want to be?

Sometimes, I want to be something else other than me.


I want to be a bird.
To fly freely in the sky, to make the world my home. I will fly from one end of the world to the other, across vast oceans, across great fields, across timelines; to feel the wind in my wings, the absoluteness of freedom.
Then I wonder where I will stay. In nests? Heavens, no. What happens when it rains?
What will I feed on? Worms? Goodness gracious, no! I want my pig's trotters and mee goreng! Pratas! Pratas! I need them!
So I don't want to be a bird.




I know! I want to be a fish!
To swim freely in the ocean, to make the sea my home. I will swim from one end of the world to the other, over vast distances, over great fields of sea anemones, across timelines; to feel the water in my fins, the absoluteness of freedom.
Then I wonder where I will stay, again. Heavens, I don't even have a nest!
What will I feed on? Other fishes? Planktons? No, I want my fish fillet and Hainanese chicken rice! Pastas! Pastas! I need them!
So I don't want to be a fish.




What about a squirrel?
To hide my nuts like a possessive nutcase, to make trees my home. I will jump about from trees to trees with nuts in my hands, balancing myself with my soft bushy tail. I can make my own Nutella, and I'll have fur that never goes out of fashion.
Then I wonder what I will do other than hiding nuts and jumping around. Nothing much, really. Do I get to see the world? No. Do I get to see anywhere outside my little community of trees? Probably not. What happens when it rains, or snows?
So I don't want to be a squirrel.





How about a tortoise? I'll take life easy...
To live a long life, to see what has been here and what will be here. To move about at leisurely speeds, laughing at the meaningless business of everyone else. Why bother to rush about doing, and miss the enjoyment of quiet peacefulness? Two hands of leisure rather than one hand of business, I'd say.
Then I wonder the usefulness of such a long life, if life is meant to be all so peaceful and non-undulating....
No, I don't want to be a tortoise. I want more excitement to life.






A dragon? I'm a magestic dragon! I'll breathe fire and destroy towns and places - holding princesses and kingdoms in ransom. Everyone will be in fear and awe of me! I'll fly freer than a bird, and I'll live in a cave with people paying tributes to me.
But then, who will be my friend? Who will dare to be my friend?
I don't want to deal with the occasional smart ass knight who thinks himself good enough to kill me for the princess and some stupid intangible he calls 'Glory'.
No, I don't want to be a dragon.





I guess I'm better off a human as I am -
I can fly further and faster than a bird to Cananda and live in East Hastings, living freer than a lark in my rented apartment with Garry and Eu;
I can swim freer than a fish in Ko Samut with Chee wee, and laze on sentosa beach as well;
I can wakeboard/windsurf/kayak with ZK/stef/lele anytime I want (if the weather permits);
I can buy cans and cans of Nutella and eat them with bread in PGP, with Gurka to tell me stories of exploits in Mt. Vernon camp;
I can spend a quiet sunday afternoon by myself in McDonald's, watching traffic pass me by;
I can sit in a park and watch children play whilst mothers scream, hearing the chirping of the birds and marvelling at how everything opposing fits in picture-perfectly;
and most of all, I have my friends.

Who needs to be a dragon when you already have friends who promise their kingdoms to you in times of need? (Though I'm always wondering why we never did have enough princesses to go around...)

Not me.

=)

'You're the sunshine of my morning, you know that? We started talking when it's absolutely darkness, but now the sun's out and the birds are chirping...'

'then u are my moon shining softly down at me bringing me light in the darkness - cus it was still light when we started talking but now it is pitch dark except the illuminating moon'

I am yours. =)

A movie a day?

A movie a day?

It'll be really cool if he pulls it through, isn't it? =)

The talk with Permanent Secretary of Education

yesterday was quite an engaging and informative one. Present were a number of students from SMU, NTU, and NUS who had went on one (or more) exchange program(s) to various countries around the world, and all of us had something to say concerning our experiences.

The main impetus for the talk was for the Perm Sec to better know how exchange programs have benefitted us, and how MOE can step in to further help Singaporean gain a global perspective amidst a globalisation trend that is advantageous for Singapore's growth into the region - but this advantage can only be possible with more Singaporeans willing to venture out into the region. It is with the use of Exchange programs MOE hopes future Singaporeans are more accustomed to the idea of living/working overseas and decrease our resistance to a job abroad later on during our working life.

Already, there will be better conduits for students to access loans/funds for their expenses during the programs - something I find very important for students who have the interests but not the money.

It's heartening to know steps are being taken by MOE to help Singaporean students.

MOE is giving more money for Exchange Programmes!

When I promised myself that I would do some cooking

in PGP, it was with the supposition that the kitchen will be a functional one.

Up to today, I have done no cooking in PGP. This is because I have been peeved with the state of the kitchen since day 1.

There are dead carcasses of ants in the fridge amongst all the half-opened packets of beef/KFC leftovers, half-used-and-exposed cucumbers; ants crawling over the dirty pots and pans stacked INSIDE and BESIDE the washbasin; ants crawling all over the grease-marked kitchen table top; markings left from greasy pots and pans placed over the dining table top without any mats; and a foul stench that emits from nowhere in particular because it's everywhere.

How to cook in such an environment? I had thought guys would be more professional when it comes to kitchen hygiene - obviously I haven't shared a kitchen with people other than my family members (who are very particular about hygiene), or Eu and Garry (I tot Garry was quite the limit, but I'm obviously wrong again - he's neat in comparison.)

I avoid the kitchen when possible, having no possessions in it except for a bottle of honey I use on my bread (i keep in room) for breakfast. It's disappointing, I know.

I don't think I can perfect my stir-fry techniques or carry out any taste experiments here, much less the thoughts of actually baking something edible to shame my sister's endeavours in Home Economics.