A while back I posted a quotation from Jed Rubenfeld's The Interpretation of Murder, and it hasn't left my mind ever since. I really do like it; I think it essentially sums up the entirety of life in a few lines. If you want happiness, you live from day to day, taking things as they come and enjoying life as it is. But if you want meaning, you have to delve into the past and look into the future, reawakening spectres long gone and the fear of an unknown tomorrow. And you can't have both; you degrade meaning to achieve happiness, and you sacrifice happiness to attain meaning.

From the sheer amount of unhappy people in this world, I assume that everybody wants their lives to have some sort of meaning.

That's reasonably acceptable, I guess. I mean, everybody wants to leave their mark on this world for one reason or another. And obviously, if you don't plan ahead, life's curveballs will throw you off the track and leave you struggling to stay afloat. But taking a look at the misery so prevalent around me, and the very small number of truly happy people, I think about two things: one, I'm amazed that so many people have the foresight to avoid the short-term goals. Two, I kinda wish they didn't, because I think if they hadn't, there'd be far less emo people in the world, and ergo it would be a better place.

And then, of course, there are people who do nothing but complain about how much life sucks as of right now. As the workload piles up in JC, there are just so many complaints about how people don't get any time for themselves, and one thing that particularly stands out is the common plea for people to spend time alone with their thoughts, or to spend time enjoying the simple pleasures in life.

It's around this stage that I get kind of confused by my own thoughts. I'm a self-professed person who lives in the present. I don't really care about what happens tomorrow -- my house could burn down, I could grow a huge zit on my nose, I could have my picture secretly taken by a passer-by as I play air guitar stark naked in my room, but I'd deal with it somehow. And so naturally I'd expect myself to empathise with all these people who want to do seemingly pointless things with their lives as of right now. I mean, obviously, right? This coming from the nerd who would like nothing more than to sit at home and play video games and eat junk food all day.

But then, ironically, people doing pointless things annoy me to no end. I don't understand why it does, though. I mean, gaming is essentially completely pointless. There is really no benefit to gaming, especially in the games I play, except maybe to improve reflexes and expand one's vocabulary. But everybody doing anything else pointless pisses me off, to the point of being an irrational anger.

Shifting into a completely biased point of view: Ok, seriously? Why would anybody do something completely idiotic like trying to blow the largest spit bubble you can without popping it? Opening a book twice and trying to get the same page both times? Trying to decide whether that cloud looks more like a banana or a duck? Trying to stop a stopwatch at 00:00:01? I don't see how this helps anybody to "rediscover themselves" because the life that's oh-so-hard right now somehow deprives them of the privilege of being human, oh, no, that's just terrible. I know people (yes, more than one) who do all these things, and I honestly think it is the dumbest shit on the planet. No exceptions, because it's an utter waste of time that could be spent on something else.

Shifting back into an objective point of view: Well, the idea is to be happy, isn't it? And if this makes people happy, well, I don't see why there's anything wrong with it. Different strokes for different folks, right? Also, there's probably a lot of stupid things I do for fun (though not to "rediscover myself", I still think that excuse is just plain stupid no matter how objective I try to be) that I haven't had the presence of mind to consider stupid, purely because I enjoy them.

So yeah, I just find it strange how I can understand exactly how they feel, and yet get so frustrated at the sheer pointlessness of their actions. It's very bizarre.

Which brings me to a completely unrelated point. I think the people who get offended when you tell them you think it's stupid are the plain dumbest of the whole lot. It's not like you're being persecuted for liking something we think is stupid. And for Pete's sake, it's an opinion. We're not enforcing it on anybody else. Why should you give two shits as to whether we like it or not? If you enjoy it, do it because you love it! I don't stop playing video games because a lot of my friends think it's dumb. Archie doesn't stop laughing at the way the recording on the train says "bo dong ba xi" at Potong Pasir station because I think it's completely unfunny. Indi doesn't stop reading Green Arrow because I think Judd Winick is a lousy writer. Jin doesn't stop dancing tektonik because I think it's a ridiculous dance; Lauren doesn't stop listening to her Super Junior boyband because I think their music is bad. Do they get needlessly offended when I tell them what I think? No.

So seriously, people have opinions on what they like and what they don't. Listen to 'em, agree or disagree with them, and stick to your guns. There's no need to piss and moan about people not agreeing with you. Everybody needs to take a leaf out of Indi's book; the only thing I hear out of his mouth more than the word "bro" is the phrase "fair enough". Because it really is fair enough.

This post got really rant-y towards the end, because my typical stream-of-consciousness style of rambly writing ended up in me losing my point in a bunch of angry verbiage. Ah, well. When I read this properly again I'll probably make amendments. But I've been wanting to say this for a long time, though with a considerably larger amount of profanity.

Oh, and also, another thing I fail completely at being objective about is the writing of quasi-philosophical bad emo poetry to express how you truly feel oh this guy's so deep and profound, like

I want to kill myself today I like the pain and the feel of my own blood life is pointless I can feel myself going insane I am going to talk about small things that people find insignificant but they're significant to me why don't they find them significant too I want to kill myself all the more because of that I miss my old life because life sucks right now and my poetry is all modern and cool and emo and shit and so it doesn't need rhyme rhythm or meter and it has to be littered with metaphors that don't make any sense at all now that's what I call good poetry I know everybody will love it and pity me more and think I am very philosophical

Stop it. Stop it. Just motherlovin' stop it. Ugh. I sincerely apologise if you really are a repressed person on the brink of insanity, and writing is your only form of release and solace, but seriously, just don't. I really am very sorry if you love poetry of that kind, I feel like killing small woodland animals every time I see shit like that.

Seriously, I have so much work to do tonight and, alternatively, so much to talk about that's happened in the past few months, but I couldn't give less of a shit of all else going on in my life. What I want to draw your attention to is this video, which I believe every man (AND woman, possibly more so here) should watch.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Russell Peters' Women Are Thinkers segment.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xFLf3HoDtQ

A few years back I'd probably think that this was misogynistic: but now I find it absolutely batshit hilarious. This is just so accurate, it's uncanny.

I left my trademark brick-esque file in the cab home today.

I am very pissed at myself, but I have faith that I'll get it back...! There really wasn't anything too valuable inside, though if I lose my massive collection of notes I will probably break down and cry. I'm mainly pissed, that's all. Ironically, you lose the one largest thing you're holding on to. The irony gods must be rolling on the floor.

Lodged an online report already, but customer service isn't open yet, so I'll call 'em tomorrow.

I really want my file back.

Quote from Guns n' Roses' Sweet Child o' Mine.

I want to commit a random act of repetitive violence.

Not on somebody, of course. I'd hate to see anybody suffer because of me. But on like, some inanimate object. A block of wood or a derelict sofa. I just want to take a fire axe to something that breaks under a bit of duress and have it fall apart under my machinations. I'm particularly partial to fire axes (thanks TF2). And splintering wood is very satisfying as well.

People've suggested smashing plates, but that's over too soon and it's hard to clean up. Besides, plates are expensive.

So yeah, a nice mouldy couch that nobody wants any more, with a good solid fire axe in hand, and whale on that thing like there's no tomorrow. A bunch of stress goes right out the window. Along with the shattered remnants of the couch, hopefully.

And the weirdest thing is that I have no idea why I'm so frustrated. There's just this very bizarre well of anger that's inside me -- that has no trigger factor at all. I don't know if it's subconscious worry about the upcoming barrage of common tests and Inventio impending, but it's just there, like somebody punching me in the gut, grabbing a fistful of flesh, and squeezing the life out of me.

I just don't know what to do about it, because I don't know for sure what's causing it, and exactly why it's so intense, and that irritates me all the more. A catch-22 in every respect. So I'm going to break something.

Title is a short snippet from Ben Folds' In Between Days, one of my favourite songs (and the tune is awesome to write lyrics to...!)

I spent the day today in school, when the rest of my class was either struggling to finish their WR or out having fun (i.e. watching Up, which is something I want to see pretty damn badly). The five of us in Slice of Heaven met to finally, finally finish up our script and start on the blocking, which is off to a, sadly, infinitesimally slow start.

Still, afterwards we went off to watch a play, Salusuah, in the convention of confessional theatre in the Arts House, which was quite enlightening. It's like an autobiography in dramatic form. I admire his courage, like Archie mentioned immediately after. There are personal things in there that normal people wouldn't normally share, and it took guts to not just tell people, but show them on a stage. It wasn't a flashy piece, exactly like what madam had told us to expect. No tap-dancing, no flashy lights, no elaborate soundtrack. Just a simple, very heartfelt story of one man's life and his trials and tribulations.

As we filed outside after the post-performance dialogue session into the rain, everybody was talking about it excitedly, about how the shadowplay was so fantastic, the movement had such a flowing, raw quality to it, how the text was delivered so well that it moved some to tears.

It's true. I think the director and the lone performer poured out their all into it. There was a pervading sense of truth that never faltered; every moment was brutally honest, and I was personally wowed by the sheer precision and energy in his dance. He knew where every step was going to fall, whereas if I danced like that, in the first five seconds I'd've ended up on the floor with a broken neck. But, I think, I just can't fully appreciate all these pieces that require so much pathos.

I'm one of those people who just goes to the theatre to have a good laugh, honestly. At times it makes me feel like I'm the shallowest person in ACSian Theatre, but I guess I can't deny the fact that I'd rather take a seat and watch people slap each other silly for two hours than see the gruelling triumph of somebody over adversity. Don't get me wrong, I believe that it truly takes the best of the human spirit to get through some of the crap that the world throws at you today, but it just doesn't appeal to me.

No, I take it back. It has to be good comedy, because I've seen my fair share of shit. XD

In any case, on a slightly unrelated note, they were giving out bookmarks at my cousin Fiona's wedding; each had a different picture to represent the groom, and some text to represent the bride. So in the bookmark I got, there was a picture of her fiancee (now husband) hopping on his skateboard, over a can of Heaven and Earth green tea. But it was the quotation that I particularly liked. I'll post it here in case I forget.

"There is no mystery to happiness.

"Unhappy men are all alike. Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn -- or worse, indifference -- cleaves to them, or they to it, and so they live each day within a shroud of yesterdays. The happy man does not look back. He doesn't look ahead. He lives in the present.

"But there's the rub. The present can never deliver one thing: meaning. The ways of happiness and meaning are not the same. To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment; he need only live for the moment. But if he wants meaning -- the meaning of his dreams, his secrets, his life -- a man must reinhabit the past, however dark, and live for the future, however uncertain. Thus nature dangles happiness and meaning before us all, insisting only that we choose between them."

-- Jed Rubenfeld, 'The Interpretation of Murder'

To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment.

I like that.

I know I always have these rants about how I hate quasi-philosophical blog posts and bad poetry and emo pictures and sad music, and it is true, I really do despise them. But if you think this qualifies as an emo post, well, I guess I can let myself off this once.

Quote from Halo 3, one of a Grunt's random lines.

Before I say anything else, I'd like to state that I finally bought my own used copy of Halo 3, in mint condition, so Sam, I can finally give yours back to you, along with your copy of Rainbow Six Vegas; also, Mark still has my Mirror's Edge, which bothers me.

Anyway.

Sivvy left this morning for the States.

She's off to UWC in New Mexico on their scholarship offer, which I intended to apply for, but never got around to doing. I finished the essay and all the necessary materials the night before, then suddenly decided, "heck it", two minutes before the deadline. It seemed hypocritical to give myself the image of a caring humanitarian, which I obviously am not.

She is, though, despite her slogans to the contrary. One of the most fun, hilarious, spontaneous, cool, talented, sweet, loving people I've ever met in my 17 years. It doesn't hurt that she gave one of the best hugs I've ever felt. And anywhere she goes, I know she'll go far. Mich said that with her departure, ACJC lost a good chunk of talent; I'm inclined to agree.

This morning, after about 15 minutes of sleep, I woke up early at around 4, puttered around the house for too long until I was late, and to aggravate the situation, I couldn't get a cab because every single driver I came across was changing shift. I only got there around 5.15, and the worst part was that it cost me a whopping 27 bucks to get from my house to the airport. Oddly enough, very few people were late today, which is not according to tradition with our lot.

So while Sivvy talked to people, particularly her old PLMGS friends, the rest of us stood around and chatted quietly to each other, typically complaining about how tired we were, and about the gargantuan size of our GS sets. Around 6 Andrew and I figured that we should probably practice our adapted version of Leaving On A Jet Plane, a true child of spontaneity that we put together only a few hours ago.

As per usual, which is the rule whenever I try to sing, no capo meant that it was just right for Andrew and too low for me, and capo one meant that it was just right for me and too low for Andrew. Naturally, I was barely audible because I was pushing my lowest vocal range, but I hope Sivvy enjoyed it nonetheless. Hell, she probably enjoyed it more because I couldn't be heard at all. XD!

For old times' sake, she and Andrew did a duet of Stars Go Blue/Proud, the signature song of the Black Society, and Ivhanmuse reassembled for the last time to sing, God forbid, When You Say Nothing At All. And as a surprise for all assembled, Sivvy sang Other Side of the World, which pretty much had everybody in tears by the end.

Now, if Sivvy's reading this, I would have done Signal Fire, if not for the fact that 1) I hadn't rehearsed with Andrew, and that's way too important to bollocks up (again) and 2) there were way too many of your PL friends there, *nudge nudge wink wink*, so... when you come back, Siv. I promise.

It was time to go not long after; in fact, she was already late. We assembled for a last few hugs, most people having to dry their tears on her ACSian Theatre hoodie, and after a crisis about Ken losing his contact lens (which was eventually found still in his eye, hmm), she set off through the gate.

We stood at the glass panels of the gate in a little cluster of AC and PL people and waved 'til our wrists hurt, as she slowly walked further and further away from us. And we waved long after she disappeared from view, none of us really wanting to lower our hands, which was sort of a confirmation that she'd finally gone.

I think the really strange thing was that Andrew and I didn't shed a tear at all. I thought I would bawl like a nutjob and be utterly disconsolate as she walked away from us, but no. Even surrounded by people sniffing and dabbing at their eyes with tissue, the two of us just kind of looked at each other, twiddled our thumbs awkwardly, and hugged Siv as tight as we could whenever we got the chance.

It's not that I'm not close to her. I mean, sure, I wasn't in her class, and I probably talked to her a lot less than most of the others (though that's 'cause I don't really talk to anyone, period), but Sivvy's one of the few who speaks my language. It sounds very emo if I say that nobody else understands me, because that really isn't true, but she and I were usually on the same wavelength. We used to joke about how we were twins separated at birth, because we were so similar. Ok, so I'll never be a good dancer and she'll never think video game music is decent, and physically we couldn't be more different, but... she's, at risk of sounding cliched, part of me, I guess.

I think the main reason is that, well, she'll be back. 12 weeks, like madam says, will go just like that. Think GS, then promos, then Sivvy'll be back and the world will be a happier place again. It's not as though she's leaving for good and we'll never see her in person again. She'll always come sauntering back to us, with that trademark smirk on her face and always ready to dispense a tight hug when we need it.

Still, until then... we'll miss you, Siv. The memories remain. I'm sitting here and thinking of everything we shared. Drinking my "birthday drink" in New York New York on the first day we actually became friends. Hearing her sing for the first time and feeling utterly astounded. Convincing her to name the band Ivhanmuse, and her badly-hidden grin as she supposedly "reluctantly" accepted. Her open-mouthed stare on a certain fateful day in Swensen's. Receiving a box of potpourri from her on my birthday and declaring it the best gift I'd ever gotten. Using her Technics jacket as a pillow in the library. Her giving me my Theasthai piece and claiming that I'd be perfect for the role. Us cracking up as she tried to maintain an American accent for an entire monologue and failing completely. Dancing Desi Girl like we've never danced before on a stage in front of a whole crowd of cheering, clapping, jumping people.

Three more months. We'll be waiting.

EDIT: The lyrics for You're Leaving On a Jet Plane are here, in case anybody wants to know.

You're Leaving On A Jet Plane
Performed by Andrew Mark Ong
Lyrics by Bryant Chan

All your bags are packed
You're ready to go
We've walked you through
The airport doors
But now it's time for us to say goodbye
Now the dawn is breakin'
It's early morn
And the plane is waitin'
For you to board
Already we're so lonesome we could die

So kiss us and smile for us
Tell us that you'll wait for us
Hold us like you'll never let us go
'Cause you're leaving on a jet plane
Don't know when you'll be back again
We hate to see you go

Now she's all grown up
Our desi girl
She's flying halfway
'Round the world
On Sunday morn into a sky so blue
Every place you go, please think of us
Every song you sing, please sing for us
'Cause you know that we'll all be thinking of you

So kiss us and smile for us
Tell us that you'll wait for us
Hold us like you'll never let us go
'Cause you're leaving on a jet plane
Don't know when you'll be back again
We hate to see you go

'Cause you're leaving on a jet plane
Don't know when you'll be back again
We hate to see you go

So don't go (Yeah don't go)
So don't go (Please don't go)
So don't go (There's still time)

Guys, her dad's right there with the tickets

Ok, fine, go

I've since stopped wondering why people in ACSian Theatre don't keep blogs. It's eating up my life, I swear. A typical day in July and August consists of staggering home after a full day of school followed by rehearsal, stumbling into the shower, slogging through the day's homework (with no time to go through the day's notes, mind you, which is the worst part) and collapsing into bed at 2 in the morning. If you're lucky.

But it's National Day weekend, and even though I still have about six thousand things to finish before the weekend's up, such as my GP file (which has been complete ever since I came back from Vienna but haven't submitted for some odd reason), a few articles to type up, a DEP passage-based essay, and the first draft of my GS script, I am simply not giving a shit any more.

Also, I've decided to stop censoring my profanity on my LJ, because I've since discovered it's really dumb. I can't remember whether I've already announced this in a previous post. But no harm stating again, I figure.

But yeah, tomorrow is Fiona's wedding, and after polishing up whatever material we have for GS tonight, and sending it to madam, I'm just going to while the rest of the night away playing Rainbow Six Vegas 2. It's frustratingly difficult, but immensely satisfying. Though I must say that after being murdered by some idiot for like the eleventh time after he pops out from behind a door with a 500 Tactical shoved in your face, you feel like throwing your controller at the TV. I have never, never, never cussed more whilst playing a game. It seems that every single enemy you encounter has either a shotgun, light machine gun or assault rifle, and has a 99.65% accuracy rate. Also, when you're reloading, the percentage goes up to 159%.

Will continue this another day. Gotta keep pounding out that GS script. Time is definitely not on anybody's side when you're in ACSian Theatre.

Reminder to self: post stuff about Video Games Live.

Otherwise, well, another blog post about TF2 coming up, despite my first exam being less than 12 hours away. A few days ago I discovered the magic of multicore rendering on TF2 from one of Valve's updates.

And finally, FINALLY I can put that quad-core to good use. I used to have a draggy framerate at the worst of times; like for example when I finally get the privilege of a Medic who thinks the Kritzkrieg isn't a completely useless weapon, and kritzes me as a Soldier while I'm leading the charge into the final point of Gold Rush.

But now, I can assure that Medic a guaranteed Blast Assist achievement (well, IF the timing's right). I've already given it to two people... though admittedly both of them involved me hitting a randomly cloaked Spy lurking around.

So today I woke up at 11.45, the first time I could afford to in weeks. Stumbled onto the computer after breakfast and started to play Team Fortress 2.

The new Sniper achievements are amazingly easy to do. Before 3.10, I managed to get the Huntsman, Razorback and Jarate; granted, they all only take 5, 11 and 17 achievements apiece, but it was still a lot faster than when I got my first Pyro achievements -- and the Pyro is supposed to have the easiest weapon unlocks out of all the classes thus far.

Go out and get 'em, guys. And before Valve screws up my stats again, I got a crapload of high scores today with the crazed Australian gunman. 28 points, 20 kills, 5 assists, 3614 damage, 2 destructions, 3 dominations, longest life of 13:59, and 9 headshots in one life.

Life is good.

Needless to say, in the ridiculously long period of time that I haven't updated this, there's been plenty of stuff going on in my life. And equally needless to say, I am not going to fill anybody in on it. Partially because I'm just too damn lazy, and partially because I plumb can't remember what happened over the past month.

Well, what stands out is that the J1 DEPers had their first examination showcase, Theasthai, and damn, was that a night to remember. While it wasn't the visual spectacle that The Odyssey was, I thought it was a hell of a lot more fun. Everybody really got to let their talent shine that day, and some people you'd never expect were really incredible actors. Andrew's piece had the whole crowd on their feet, which was expected, honestly, but Yvonne and Rachel also did astonishingly well. The scripts were already good, but it was their characterisation that really made them damn hilarious. And Alfie's, I believe, was the only non-humorous piece that elicited cheers from the audience.

ACSian Theatre also performed for open mic night, including our Tapestry dance (which was really amazingly fun, massive props to Edlyn), but halfway through there was some conflict with the National Arts Council and Raffles City, and so our sound system got cut, leaving a bunch of performers unable to strut their stuff, including Ivhanmuse, which is really damn sad. The biggest loss though, I think, was the bhangra dance. Yash and Archie spent ages choreographing that, and in the end it was all for nothing -- though Mrs Creffield says it'll be used for something else, so I don't suppose it's a total loss.

Saw Fairytaleheart yesterday as part of the ACE! Festival, which was surprisingly good. The script was solid, the acting was convincing, and the set design was appropriate. I went in with kind of "eh" expectations, thinking it would just be another children-oriented thing, and came out satisfied. While everything else in the play was above average, it was the chemistry between the two actors that really made the thing shine. Their dynamic was just amazing.

Doesn't hurt that all the J1s trooped over to Waffletown USA afterwards to grab some chow, of course. While the fried chicken was kind of a disappointment and the drinks were like Yakult containers, well, it's the company that counts. When you have about three-quarters of the J1 ACSian Theatre cohort crammed into a greasy diner, talking and laughing and occasionally bursting into random fits of dancing, well, it's, needless to say, a night to remember.

And a select few of those J1s have been picked to perform Animal Farm at the World Theatre Festival...! While it didn't seem like such a big thing at first, once we found out that it's being held in Vienna, well, we all just went to pieces. I'm so psyched. Vienna in the summer! Christie-jie's already demanded that I buy her back hot chocolate. 'Course, with swine flu on the rise, and all of us playing animals (bad joke, I know), it may not actually follow through, but here's praying that it does.

Well, now that the holidays are here, Animal Farm rehearsals and IS rehearsals are in full swing. Mel's really driving me hard before the final crunch in July to clean up our choreography and characterisation, and Nathan just needs to work out his blocking, and new dynamic, now that Rachel's been cast into his piece. Luckily for him, he's only in one other IS (I think), so he should have plenty of slots in which he can clean up.

We've also been searching for GS stuff to do, now that we've settled our groups. I managed to get Andrew, Ken, Michelle, and Ishaan as partners. While it may seem like an odd group dynamic, with only one girl, and the rest of us not being very close to each other, I'm hoping things will work out in the end. As much of a rip-off as it may seem, I think we might end up doing a deconstructed (information classified...!). Andrew wants to perform a 1950s-ish period piece, and naturally the thing that popped into mind was, well...! While we still have to see what the rest of the group thinks about it, I think our group dynamic could adapt to a comic performance pretty well. The only problem is that GS is always assessed on the social themes addressed, and comic performances don't typically have very many.

That kind of irks me, though. I mean, whatever happened to performances being there solely to amuse people? It seems as though everybody's got to be Brechtian nowadays and shove social issues into your face. I don't know about you, but I like going down to theatres or to cinemas to just have a good time and laugh at things, not spend the entirety of the performance wondering about what significance this hunk of cheese has, or why this character keeps scratching his nose, and how this will affect my life in the grander scheme of things. And yet it seems that if you don't make the examiners question the cosmic effects of fermented dairy products and/or irritants in nasal passages, you immediately fail GS. It's quite sad.

Holidays are pretty shit annoying at the same time, though. ACJC has this odd tendency to put term exams immediately after the holidays start. This is because they want you to spend the holidays studying. Which makes sense. I mean, given AC's focus on CCA and other external activities, students barely have time during terms to study anyway. So it would only be logical (ha-ha-ha! inadvertent Star Trek reference) to give them a month off, so they can study at their own leisure, and don't fail horribly once a billion exams are thrown at them at one shot.

However, CCA also goes into full swing at the same time. This week, I am going back to school every single freaking day, be it for IS, Restless, or Animal Farm. And it's not just ACSian Theatre; I've seen Christian Fellowship and Guitar Ensemble back in school with us. And naturally, Mom and Dad, who don't quite understand JC life, despite having two kids having already gone through it, just cannot comprehend why I have to go back so often.

The funny thing is that adults complain about toddlers asking lots of questions. It's always about "the terrible twos" and how kids are so annoying when they always ask "why? why? why?" There's a delicious irony there. Because youths my age (or maybe this is only relevant to the unfortunate ACSian Theatre initiates) have the same problem towards adults. Maybe this is payback for what we did to them when we were fifteen years younger.

This, nowadays, is how a typical conversation goes between me and my mom. Events, by the way, while potentially fictionalised, are completely not exaggerated.

Me: Mom, I gotta be at school tomorrow at 8 in the morning.
Mom: Why?
Me: Mel's having IS, and she wants to get in some combat practice before her consult.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because the madams would expect her combat routine to be in top form, right? And so therefore I should take the responsibility to be in top form too.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because her A-level TSD grade is in my hands, and I'm not going to let her down.
Mom: Why?
Me: ... Because she picked me as her IS partner, since I've got a fencing background, and we have the same skillset.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because she needed a partner, otherwise she wouldn't have anybody else to work with, except Sam, who is more of a dancer than a fighter, and even though she wanted to work with him really badly, his style was slightly too lyrical, and so she picked me, since I was a fellow fencer with a combat background, and a new J1 with lots of time to spare, and I know it's called Individual Skill, and I know what you're thinking, but that's just not the way that IS works, and --
*before Mom can say anything*
Me: -- I also have Animal Farm rehearsal from 11 to 3 after that.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because we're practicing for Vienna.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because we don't want to look like an amateur theatre company in front of other youth theatre companies all over the world.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because Mrs Creffield's standards are high, and she doesn't want us to look stupid either --
*before Mom can say anything again*
Me: -- and there's also a devised performance I have to watch tonight, after Animal Farm.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because the madams want to expose us to all different kinds of theatre conventions, to get a feel of what we want to do for our own ISes.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because IS makes up 15% of our TSD A-level grade, and if we don't do it properly, we lose that 15%. So we're watching this play tonight, which starts at 7.30, so we're just going to bum around Holland V until the thing starts, so no, I'm not coming home in between to shower and change, I'm going to bring a change of clothes there and --
Mom: Are you coming home for dinner?
Me: *momentarily taken aback* Huh? Uh, no.
Mom: Why?

At this point, well, I usually sidle off to find a firearm so I can messily blow my brains out of my head for zombies to find and eat, which saves them the trouble of having to crack my skull open, which wouldn't be hard because the inane conversation with Mom has damn near withered it away to nothing. Thing is, with Singapore's strict gun control laws, I never seem to have any luck finding them, so my brains remain intact and un-zombie-consumed.

But the thing is that I can never leave the house without being interrogated first. I swear, if there were a zombie apocalypse, and they needed my expertise to combat the oncoming horde, with Damien, Jerry, Jin, Sam, and all my fellow undead-hunters, Mom would rather doom the whole of mankind to their fate of having their brains eaten than let me go out of the house for five minutes, so I can oversee the evacuation of citizens out of the Central Business District, and hold off the marauding undead swarms with shotgun, flamethrower and chainsaw.

I feel like the Joker in that famous scene in The Dark Knight, except, you know, I'm not half as cool and I don't end up escaping in the end. Because every single freaking day is another freaking cross-examination. Look, I know you're worried about my studies, and I know you think I'm an idiot because I had to appeal to get into ACJC, but I'm going back to school, for the love of all that is holy. I mean, I'm not being embroiled in an extortion racket, or giving fifty bucks to a questionably-gendered illegal immigrant in a miniskirt, fishnets, and thigh-high stiletto boots, or even freaking playing Left 4 Dead and laughing and screaming and swearing my lungs out with my gamer buddies.

I mean, I don't even have any damn time for myself. Every time I step out the door of my house, it's for school. If you're accusing me of going out during the holidays, let me ask you: exactly when? I mean, I already lose four days because of a church camp that I didn't even want to go for, and I lose the entirety of the last week because I have the ACSian Theatre J1 Study Camp. Yes, that's what it's called, a stuuuuudyyy caaaaamp. I mean, I've already turned down so many people asking me to join them during these holidays. I could have been trading fire with friends in Airsoft, or cruising down the Luge in Sentosa, or killing errant Majini with Indi, but I've turned them all away because I've got to be in school.

It irks me to no end, really. See, my parents just can't comprehend the scope of my life right now. Like, they think TSD is unimportant because they think it's a subject I don't need to study for, and that they think it's only a CCA. What they seem to be forgetting is that it's actually a legitimate subject for the GCE A-levels, hmm? And that time spent on it is actually time spent on academia.

I really want some time to spend on myself and my friends right now. Not a quick chat in the void deck after Animal Farm/IS, or a brief MSN message to them in between frantic paragraphs typed out in a Lit essay due in 6 hours. I want actual good, solid, more-precious-than-diamond time.

Like Pris says, the joys of wasting time are just something we don't have the luxury of owning any more. It's something we should forget, but we just can't; or maybe we just don't want to.

I want to spend time sprawled with my buddies on a couch and/or on a thick carpet, Xbox 360 controller grasped firmly in both hands as I line up a headshot on one of the unsuspecting guys flopped over next to me. The taste of victory is soon to join that of nacho-flavoured Doritos and ice-cold root beer, and the air filled with sounds of anguished groans, incredulous yells, uproarious laughs, and heavy bass gunfire booming out of the TV stereo, bullet shells clinking against an alien floor.

I want to spend time lying back on the soft sand at the beach, with the sound of waves gently breaking against the shore, hissing softly as the ocean pulls them back into itself, and the coolness of the wind lightly caressing my face and playfully pulling at my hair. Somebody's brought a guitar, knowing them, and as a few tentatively strummed chords lull us all to sleep, I open my eyes sleepily to see a sky dusted with stars. And I'm completely at peace with the world.

These are what holidays used to mean. I'm not sure if that holds true any more.

I have so much to talk about right now, including a log I should be writing for DEP (which I've already done on foolscap and am too lazy to transfer over here); I could talk about The Odyssey or Mel's and Nathan's ISes, or the ELES scholarship interview, or the inordinately large amounts of homework that I should be doing, but as of now I'm just pissed off at TF2's stats recording.

In between finishing homework I've nabbed every single opportunity I could to fit in a few hours of Team Fortress 2. And there's no doubt I'm getting better at the game, skill-wise, if not tactically. In the past two weeks I've broken most of my point/kill records with most classes, of which I am most proud of the 24 kills as Heavy, and 16 kills as Pyro. Then there are the sorta eh ones, i.e. 10 kills as Scout and Soldier, and 7 with Sniper (6 of them headshots...!).

But of course, Valve's crappy stats recording being what it is, come this week, every one of those has been wiped. Also, ever since the latest update, I haven't been able to access my unlockables, or maintain a single stable framerate on any server. I honestly don't mind the stats recording thing, because I figure I'll eventually become apathetic towards it, but the other two really bug me.

FIX IT NAO VALVE

I really don't want to do this right now, because I really, really want to sleep, but Ken's paranoid urging has indeed forced me to continue on with this. Also, today I find out that none of the madams are going to read this, so I can write as informally as I'd like to. Of course, keeping this log is "for my own good", so obviously I can't write out some slipshod thing and try to pass it off as decent academic work.

Ah, non-graded assignments. They're so wonderfully lax, and yet when they're done, you realise they suck because there's no motivation to write well for 'em. C'est la vie.

One thing I'm definitely going to write before I forget, though, is one of the warmups we had today with Bob. Today we stood in a circle, and we were supposed to pass a clap to other people. We had to clap in some way, and somebody else would have to "catch" it, as we sent our clap sailing through the air. Then the person who caught it would have to pass it to somebody else, and the cycle went on and on.

And so today Bob started off with "Ok, so let's pass the clap around," and I just about died laughing. Nobody understood why, and were basically just watching me snort with laughter as I pretty much jammed my fist into my mouth trying to stifle it.

I know it's not funny if you have to explain the joke, but for anyone who's still in the dark about that statement, "the clap" is a colloquialism for gonorrhoea.

... Ok, so maybe you had to be there to think it funny, but eh. Right! On to the actual content.

Today I had my second session with Michael. The rest of the DEPers have had at least three or four, because I was sick last week when he came to coach voice. And today was surprisingly pleasant; we spent the whole day on the floor, adjusting our posture and breathing. Apparently it was so we didn't get light-headed and pass out. I can understand that; I can get dizzy simply from sitting down and standing up. The blood rushes to my head really fast. You know, that whole feeling where your head doesn't seem to stay firmly on your neck, and a bunch of blue sparkles explodes to life in front of your eyes.

... No? Eh. Maybe it's just me.

So we differentiated between "shallow" breathing and "penetrative" breathing today. And it's really quite bizarre. It feels natural, and yet strangely unnatural at the same time. Because honestly, breathing from the diaphragm is weird enough for me, but Michael trained us to breathe with pretty much the entire body today. Normally during breathing exercises in ACSian Theatre, I'll make sure my ribcage expands as little as possible, so my shoulders don't raise, but I had all my preconceived notions wiped away today. Apparently when you breathe, your ribcage is supposed to expand widely outwards, and your lower back similarly expands with your diaphragm.

It was completely foreign, but it felt good! I mean, for once, I felt like I was getting a full breath instead of holding everything back in hopes of just getting the diaphragm to inflate. And I could actually do the breathstream exercise pretty decently (it's the one where you control your breath in and out, sustaining a steady stream of breath out for the alloted number of counts). Andrew and I were the only ones wheezing after the 30-count one, but at least we had it down.

And apparently posture counts for a lot as well. I mean, we learnt that first lesson, but even more so now because my back hurt a lot when all my weight was on it, seeing as we were lying on the floor. I have a really concave-arched back, meaning that a lot of weight is put on my tailbone and my shoulder blades when I lie down on a flat surface. That also puts a lot of torsion on my spine. Needless to say, it hurts like hell after a while. I don't care what he says about "making the floor my friend", or pretending that I'm a "cookie cutter lying in pastry", it really hurts like a mother, especially since I'm so bony. Ning and Edlyn agree wholeheartedly.

But today, I also learnt from Michael that I can just bend my knees, putting my feet flat on the floor, and I'll instinctively arch my back into a convex position. The problem is, though, that doing that causes tension in my butt. And according to the gospel of Michael Corbich, "tension is the enemy of voice". Ergo, there is no comfortable way for me to do floorwork and pull it off right.

I will confess, these few tidbits are the only things I remember, because I fell asleep multiple times during the floorwork, despite the pain in my back and shoulders. I faintly recall something about putting two fingers an inch below my navel and breathing, but I don't recall the significance.

In Bob's workshop today, though, we didn't really get anything different from the past three workshops we'd had thus far. Mainly, what he told us was that we shouldn't use cliche actions, like pointing a finger up and going "oh! I have an idea!" multiple times, because it would get old.

We also learnt about pauses, etc, prior to and following a scene, for about three seconds or so, to increase theatrical impact; he discouraged the use of violence and toilet humour in our scenes. The scene also has to be kept going for as long as possible, regardless of what other people are doing, like if they can't come up with an idea in time or something.

Also, strong conclusions are needed to end an improv scene. Unfortunately, to end this log, I don't have any "strong conclusions". I might remember something after a good night's rest. But seeing as I always get a pathetic amount of sleep every night, well, I guess I'll never have a good night's rest. Ergo, I'm gonna forget everything by tomorrow. Well. Anything that I haven't already forgotten, anyway.

EDIT: Realised I misspelled "colloquialism". Not that anybody noticed. XD

This isn't gonna be a "personal" post today; rather, today I am tasked with keeping a log of what I learned in DEP. Seeing as I write slower than a snail on an IV drip of LSD, I figure I'm just going to blog it out. Ms Wong said today that she'd rather it be more on a "private" sphere, but she didn't explicitly forbid the usage of my LJ to keep my log. 'Sides, I tend to lose physical things rather easily. I put 'em on my desk and the piles of junk that prowl its general vicinity assimilate them while my back is turned. It's rather frightening.

Anyway...! Today we had another mime workshop from 5 to 8, this time DEP-exclusive, with the mime master Bob once again, this tall, thin man with a long, beaky nose and the coolest Einsteinian shock of white hair I have ever seen. He even has the round, gold-rimmed glasses to pull the whole look off. And what do you know, I'm deviating from the topic once again. Yay me.

Basically what we went through today were some more isolation techniques; every part of the body moving by itself, while keeping the others stationary. Just as importantly, we revised the "tuck", which, while sounding like a gymnastics maneuver, is simply a jerk of the appropriate body part whenever it meets an invisible surface. Say, for example (I'm ripping off the example he used, but that's not the point, really), if I were to lean on a counter, resting my arm on it, I would have to jerk my arm slightly when it met the supposed resistance, the surface of the counter that's parallel to my arm.

Similarly, my hand would dangle off the "counter", and so we'd have to keep our fingers and wrist limp, while keeping the tension within the muscles of the forearm. It's a lot to remember at one time, but done right, it looks pretty damn cool. Sivvy does it really well, but unfortunately, she wasn't in school today for fear of throwing up her internal organs.

The "tuck" isn't just for leaning against imaginary counters and tables; it's for basically every single action that takes place in mime. If I were to pick up a glass, I would have to splay my fingers to show that there isn't anything inside them, followed by a "tuck" of the wrist as my hand cups inwards, in order to show that I'm picking up the imaginary glass. Or, if I were to push against an imaginary wall, it would be a "tuck" of the wrists and palms as my hands made contact with its flat surface.

A new technique we learned today, aside from the "pole", the "cup", the "table", and of course, the ever-present "window/wall", is the "rope". It's really interesting, and while it's not exactly how I would choose to pull a rope, it's a pretty good approximation. The hips start cocked backwards, with the body arched forward, and the hands fully extended, grasping the "rope".

As you pull the "rope" towards you, push your hips forward as your hands move backwards. When your hands are at the minimum point, and you need to change your hands over, shift your hips backwards again, and repeat the process. There's so much tension involved in the pulling, I thought I felt a few of my muscle tendons snapping. Like, you know, with those typical comical "sproing" sounds like high-tension steel wire.

The strange thing is that mime is all about the tension, which is strange, because it's such a world apart from what Michael teaches us all the time. You know, all the stuff about "tension is the enemy of voice" or something like that. It's probably not the same wording. The very first time (and the only time, for me thus far) we met him, he gave us all these adages that were absolutely impossible to remember, and true enough, today I can't retain a single one of those. But the point is, yeah. Tension = bad when it comes to voice. This is why I look like a ragdoll in Nathan's IS. It is, unfortunately, also why Mrs Creffield says I look like a squid.

Though it's also important to note that mime doesn't rely very heavily on voice, unlike musical theatre; it's all about the action, and the "tucks". So obviously it'd be ok to retain all that tension in your body.

And seeing as I can't find an appropriate way to end this log, and I've probably shot over the word limit anyway, I am one chapter away from finishing Gears of War 2 on Hardcore difficulty with Jin, and have managed to finish Halo 3 on Heroic. Yay us.

Now, if Ms Wong is reading this, and is actually going to mark this as an assignment, I'm so screwed. But how else are you supposed to end off a log? I mean, I sure as hell ain't gonna do one of those cliched "oh, I realised that I have so many flaws in my technique and I need to improve so much blah blah blah"... Sure, I've got my problems, but I hate the way every time we do a reflection we always write, by default, that we have such a long way to go and have so much room for improvement, etc, etc. I mean, when your own writing sickens yourself, you know it's time to stop doing that.

Well the holidays are here, and I feel absolutely the same. I'm still going to school and leaving at ungodly hours every day. It's ridiculous. Yesterday I was late for drama (despite leaving the house at 8.45), and left school at 10, while today I went to school on time and left at around 8.45 to have dinner with a few of the drama people, namely Ken, Cumara, Mivio, Jumana, and Andrew. Much shenanigans ensued.

And tomorrow I've got Mel's IS rehearsal at 8.10, followed by workshop at 10 to 2, which I'll be pulled out of early for Mel's IS. Again. I'm supposed to follow the drama people to Andrew's place for a movie marathon, after which they're going to sleep over, but I might not even go at all, I'm so freaking tired.

So yeah. Basically, in the dates that I haven't updated my LJ, I really did fall sick. It was really dumb. One Saturday night we went to watch Interim Seraphim: Angel in Training, in order to support Mark. Frankly, it was the crappiest play I have ever seen in my entire life. Mark was fantastic. He really was. He was the only reason why we didn't walk out of the auditorium straight after the first five minutes. I had my wushu blade with me that day, since I'd just finished Mel's rehearsal, and honestly, if Mark hadn't been on that stage singlehandedly salvaging the entire play, some people were seriously gonna die.

While the play alone was enough to make me sick, it was what happened after that really did the trick. While we were running back to school to try and catch the last bits of Black and White, it started to rain ridiculously heavily, and as Murphy's Law took the opportunity to bite us in the arse again, we had only three umbrellas to share amongst me, Andrew (who takes up an entire umbrella by himself, truthfully), Sivvy, Archie, Tim, his friend Steph, Ken, and myself. So in the end Ken and I shared his umbrella, tucking Archie between us to shield her from the rain.

Come Tuesday I was rolling in bed with a fever dancing around the mid-39 level, which lasted and even rose for the next two days. On the bright side, I did end up missing dance rehearsal (which I am mysteriously in despite miserably failing the dance audition) for three days straight, and as a result am only in the final 30 seconds or so of the ending dance. Awesomesauce.

Speaking of The Odyssey, I am now in a myriad of very minor roles, and a few more fight scenes. What really bummed me out was that I got my Aeolus role cut out entirely from the play, which I was really looking forward to. If there's anything I'm good at acting besides stoic, it's inebriated. And angry. Which is essentially Aeolus' entire span of emotions.

On the bright side, well, I still have Elpenor and Laodamas, which are the only other two named roles I have. Everyone else is random [insert character here, be it suitor, sailor, or passer-by] whatever. Also, I am a rock on Circe's island, being pawed and sniffed at by Sam and Andrew when they're transformed into pigs. Laodamas isn't a very popular character, since he beats Bluewater, played by Tim, in the Phaeacian Games. And well, let's just say Tim is, um, a lot more well-liked than I am, haha.

And Elpenor is a f**king dumbass who just dies on Circe's island. Hell, the text even states that the guy is a lousy fighter and a lackwit. On top of that he's an idiot who gets drunk, climbs on Circe's palace roof, falls down and dies unceremoniously of a broken neck. It is my longest section of lines in the entire play, though. That, also, might be a bad thing. Mrs Ang says I drawl so much nobody understands what the heck I'm saying half the time. Mrs Creffield also says I don't have the vocal power to fill the theatre, which worries me.

To top it all off, the only role where I don't die is the role of Laodamas, and he's, like, freaking unpopular (which by default makes me unpopular since I beat the crap out of Tim). Elpenor is dead from the start, and in 4 other roles I die horribly in the end. It's become a running joke among the Odyssey cast now -- "if you need somebody to die, just put Bryant in". Mrs Creffield said to the rest of the cast today, and I quote, "Take some tips about resurrection from Bryant. He's had lots of experience in it by now."

It's all worth it for the final fight sequence though. It's where all the suitors are locked in the dining hall by Odysseus, and we all slowly reach for our katanas as the badass 300 music starts blasting in the background. Meanwhile, John and Becky size us up, calmly reaching for their sai/katana as well, while we circle them and strike various cool but useless poses with our swords in hand.

Basically, stuff happens, and the fight goes badly for Odysseus, causing Becky to cast an illusionment charm, causing us all to stagger back and hold our heads in anguish as we're overwhelmed by spectres and wraiths of the mind's eye. And then it goes arse-over-teakettle for us suitors, as we all get slaughtered by John and Becky. As I come out of my trance, I look up just in time to see John advancing on me, slashing down into his parry, then he whirls around me and cuts me in half from behind. Then with my dying breath I crawl over to Sam Leong's feet, grasp feebly at him, then slump over and, unsurprisingly, die.

I will say, though, that Vinesh is a fantastic fighter. He's got a natural dancer's grace, and I honestly believe that he's not afraid to hurt people. Every time his katana or his quarter-staff goes singing through the air, it's breathtakingly fearsome. Even though he gets royally owned by John in the final scene, stabbed with Yash's fallen katana, he's still got the commanding presence and the fury needed for a good fight scene. John's a good fighter himself, but next to Vinesh he looks comparatively untrained. And whenever he speaks, he's got this kind of natural contempt that tells you immediately that he's in control, no matter the situation.

But the thing is that I look at the overwhelming amount of talent in ACSian Theatre and DEP, the sheer volume of amazing skill that these wonderful people possess, and I feel incredibly depressed. I mean, it's just staggering. There are elegant and lyrical dancers, then there are those with the nigh-on angelic voices, the patient and amazingly meticulous costumers, and (only in The Odyssey's case) there are the fighters.

And I look at all these people and realise: I can't do any of this s**t.

I mean, looking at my IS partners, for instance. Let's take Nathan as an example. He is freaking Adonis personified. He's got stunningly good looks, a smile that turns the ladies into putty, an aura that puts everyone instantly at ease, and not to mention he's blessed with an amazing Frank Sinatra voice. The same goes for Mel. She's an incredibly graceful, talented dancer, with a keen eye for aesthetics, and she has a voice that would make K.D. Lang writhe in envy. And she's a motherlovin' national fencer, which is something I could never hope to achieve.

There's my J1 fellow DSA/appeal applicants as well. All of them are accomplished actors with at least 4 years of drama under their belt, and here I am with absolutely jacks**t nothing to show for the past 16 years of my life. I don't even have to look up at our J2s to know that I'm completely out of my league. I just look next to me, see the people standing shoulder to shoulder with me, and wonder why I'm even standing next to them in the first place.

I'm sorry I'm ending this post on such a negative note, but I really feel woefully incompetent next to everyone on the stage. I don't have John's strength, or Sahil's style, or Nathan's voice, or Vinesh's grace. I don't have anything that could remotely compare to anyone I work with, not even the smarts to be in ACJC -- I had to freakin' appeal in through something I've never even done.

Maybe I'm just spending too much time with Mel, and maybe her acidic commentary about my fighting, my movement, my voice, has finally gotten to me, or I dunno. I guess it's just something I've been feeling throughout these past few months, and seeing it all gel together today in the final stages of Odyssey production, it's just like this whole culmination of depression.

Talk about mood swings, huh.

EDIT: You know, I f**king hate being emo. I really do. When I'm emo, I make everyone else around me either annoyed or similarly emo. But some days there are just so many things to be emo about.

Today Mom decided, plead as I might, that I would be home for dinner at least one night out of the week, the reason being that I've been in school 'til ungodly hours damn near every day. So today I missed Andrew's movie marathon and John's birthday celebration, both of which I was particularly looking forward to.

I was really pissed. I mean, I'd thought I wouldn't be missing much, save Andrew's fried rice, but then it was compounded with John's birthday celebration, and then I really, really wanted to go. But since my parents are hopping mad at me spending so much time on Mel's IS (and not even Nathan's, we've only rehearsed like thrice so far) and returning home so bloody late, I've been essentially grounded. F**k that.

Don't get me wrong, when Mel's in a good mood, it's a pleasure to work with her, and she really cares, no matter what she may say. But just to clarify for my parents, it's not as though I f**king want to stay in school throwing myself around like a ragdoll and collecting bruises like a scrapbook until the cows come home. And I get grounded because I am doing my very best to help my partners score good grades for their A-levels.

Seriously. F**k that.

I had to cut short my NFL consult with Mrs Creffield and Ken today because I had to rush off for Mel's IS rehearsal; following which, Ms Wong absolutely tore our choreography apart. We'd already spent so much effort working it out, until Jun Xiang noted that it was far too linear to be a proper wushu fight. So we revised it over the course of a few days, widening the arena, trying our best to perfect our stances, and it was all mainly for moot.

And tomorrow, I'll likely be staying in school again until pretty late, further making my folks angry, because Mel and I have got another session with Sarah until Lord-knows-when. Sarah's impressive; she's got the necessary know-how and stuff, but the thing is that we don't really learn anything from her. Basically last time she came we just sat there watching her show us whatever we might've needed, and in the end when she left we couldn't do any of the stuff she'd shown us. Productivity levels were low.

Today I come back, my protests about missing John's birthday falling on deaf ears, and I find that I didn't win the gold for the Goh Sin Tub Literary Award. It was sort of a blow to me. Now normal people might go "oh, you won something, good job" but honestly, I expected to get the freakin' gold. I had two winning competition entries, a whole boatload of good essays, and ended up in second place. After trying earnestly for four years, it was a pretty damn big disappointment.

To top the whole day off, the idiotic f**ker who lives next to us was singing at the top of his lungs in the bathroom with his radio blasting. He was even screaming with what I assume was his sister at some point in time. It was obscenely loud (I could hear it from my room with the fan on and door closed), and he sang even worse than I do, which is saying a lot. I was one throbbing vein away from ripping out the window grille, leaping over into his house, and beating the motherlovin' s**t out of him.

Add all that to the fact that I'm still depressed about me being, well, me, and yeah. It's been a s**tty day.

I can't fight Tim next Wednesday, if we have to do the Phaeacian Games fight scene. I'll probably kill him accidentally as I vent my anger, and then I'll have a hell lot of explaining to do. And I'll have lost a good friend. His fan club would probably stone me to death on the spot too.

I am always so damn tired nowadays. And it's only the second week of school. First. Second. Maybe even third. Ah, can't remember.

So I've been juggling ACSian Theatre, school, Nathan's and Mel's IS rehearsals, while giving tuition at my church, and generally Mom's been quite pissed off about my lack of time to study. We're always fighting nowadays about how drama takes up so much of my time, and that I should be focusing on my studies instead, and that I should have stayed in CJC because it was so much closer/didn't have TSD because it's ruining my life now, etc etc.

And my 17th birthday in ACJC was the best one ever! Seriously, I got so much swag it's unbelievable. Usually you'd be lucky to get even a handshake in SJI, but this time, every time I turned around there'd be somebody waiting to give me a present. Unsurprisingly, 90% of the people who got me something gave me chocolate, because of some obscure Gallicus joke. Ken made this brownie that had the consistency of freshly fired bricks, but tasted wonderful, even when spread with Nutella and sprinkled with M&Ms. There was just so much love in the air that day, I couldn't dispense hugs fast enough. :D And during Arts Night that night, Eleanor and I got special song dedications from both Ivhanmuse and The Black Society.

I hadn't touched my Xbox 360 in 3 weeks until two days ago, where I couldn't take it any more and had to play Gears of War. Speaking of which, I still adamantly maintain that the first Gears looks a whole lot better than the second. Tip of the Iceberg was breathtaking on my TV. Besides, of course, hearing Cole exclaim "Lookit all dat juice!" for the third time. I just changed it back to Casual and blew through the pumping station with ease.

In other gaming news, Moses got me Fallout 3 for my birthday, and apparently Sam got me Dawn of War II (thanks so much guys!), but the worst part is that I won't even have time to play 'em. I mean, the TF2 update for the Scout is out, one of my favourite classes, and I'll probably sign on some time in the future where everyone is zipping around guzzling energy drinks, and I'm just standing there with my wimpy little pistol.

I had a whole post written up about orientation, but I thought better of posting it later, since it's already, what, three weeks past? I got taken away from my OG Gallicus, and got chucked into 1AA5, which seems to be the class where nobody has a "standard" subject combi. I mean, with the weird-ass combinations you get there, it makes mine seem comparatively normal. While you always hear of people taking PCME or BCME, the majority of the other DEP people take MELT, which is Math, Econs, Lit, and Theatre Studies & Drama.

I, however, take BELT. Bio, English Language & Linguistics, Lit, and Theatre Studies & Drama. It's not the worst though. Tam Mei has a friend who takes LAME (Lit, Art, Math, Econs), and it had me laughing for a good five minutes straight. That is easily the most unfortunate acronym for a subject combi I have ever heard.

By comparison, most of the other DSA/appeal DEP people are in 1AA1; it's everybody except Thara, Ishaan, Pris, and myself. It's not all bad, I guess. Suck it up and make new friends. And 1AA5 really is a pretty cool class. We're not very enthusiastic, but they laugh easily. I like people who laugh easily. :D

School just takes up so much time it's not even funny. Compound that with ACSian Theatre, and my home being on the other side of the island, and that means five hours of sleep on a regular basis. I mean, there was rehearsal today for The Odyssey, and it's the 123rd Founder's Day Celebrations. Today, when we were dismissed, everybody went out to party and visit their old schools, and us unfortunate ACSian Theatre people watched them go ruefully, then reluctantly pulled on our blacks and trooped into the Black Studio for six hours of text rehearsal.

Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoy it, except for when the madams get all pissy and yell at us, but most of the time I guess they're pretty justified. As of now I play, what, five different roles in The Odyssey? One of them happens to be a mortal under Poseidon's influence, and I, along with Archanaa, Shu Yan (Divya), and Jack, have to get the crap kicked out of me by Odysseus (John). It's really quite fun. I mean, except the time I slid off John's back the wrong way and sprained the last two fingers of my right hand.

But yeah, I get to do freakin' flying roundhouse kicks. I mean, I get caught by John and slung bodily to the ground, but it's so incredibly fun. I'm the freakin' fall guy! Later he throws me over his shoulder when I grab him from behind. Which is how I sprained my fingers, admittedly, but yeah, normally I'm pretty decent at shoulder rolls. That one (!) time was the exception.

But the coolest part has to be when John fights Shee Yong (Poseidon). Lots of people may say not-so-flattering things about Nick, but he really is a pretty good choreographer. Admittedly neither Shee Yong nor John are the best of combatants, and neither is Becky, but Poseidon uses freakin' twin katanas. And Athena uses twin sai. You don't get cooler than that.

Speaking of which, anybody wanna buy Odyssey tickets? I've got a bunch of 'em to sell, and I have to sell at least five by this Saturday, otherwise Ms Sangeetha will have my head. Which would make some people happy, but I'd rather it were still attached to my neck, really.

Cross-country sucked, by the way; anybody who went for it would gladly tell you that. Halfway through the mass run it began to pour buckets, sending everybody scurrying for cover. All our stuff was soaked; people jabbed frantically at dead cell phones and MP3 players. My box file split open and all my notes fluttered away onto the muddy ground, leaving me to extricate them gingerly from various puddles and slop the whole soggy mess back into the plastic sheath. Sigh!

Still, it was worth it for this little snippet of conversation I had: me being me, and upholding the old SJI spirit, I sidled my way to the back and decided to walk with the rest of the slackers. As the mass of walkers made their way infinitesimally slowly along the pathway, John, Farhana, and Mel jogged past me, having decided to get off their butts and make an effort to look decent.

Mel being Mel, of course, she punched me in the shoulder as she blew past. "Run!" she grinned, disappearing into the crowd.

"Do I look like a runner to you?" I called indignantly after her retreating back. She only flashed me her trademark Cheshire smirk and sped off after her two compatriots.

Later, as the rain began to fall, the walkers finally began to pick up the pace. Fat droplets began to spatter the ground, and we broke into a reluctant jog. Nothing like a little motivation, of course. Sideslipping a pair of girls with an umbrella (I know, wtf?), who should I come across but Mel, already worn out from her run.

I patted her on the back as I ran past, jerking my thumbs in the air and smiling an extremely annoying smirk, something that both of us are very good at doing, which is probably why we relate pretty well. "Good job, Mel!" I laughed.

I was moving pretty fast to get out of the rain, but I was definitely still within earshot to hear her eloquent reply of "F**k you!"

In other news, my timetable is quite crap, too, even before the rain got to it. XD Today, along with the rest of 1AA5, I had a whole giant block of lessons for 4 hours and 40 minutes. It was incredibly dumb. And I can see why everybody complains about project work. Our entire class was passed out during the lecture. Ching Sheng was only awake because he was sneaking grape-flavoured gummies during the thing. But thankfully, because of the endless rain, swim PE was cancelled yesterday. Joy!

Still, I'm falling sick from the sheer lack of sleep (and also possibly because I was in close proximity to Pris today, who fell sick after cross-country), and I'm just gonna crash after grabbing a bite to eat. And tomorrow, guess what, I've got rehearsal again, followed by Mel's IS rehearsal, then afterwards we have to go watch Interim Seraphim: Angel in Training, a play that one of our alumni is starring in, so by default we have to go.

And thus concludes my obligatory monthly LJ post. Now, sweet, sweet, sleep, and hopefully I'll still have my head by tomorrow. It's not likely, but maybe if I get Miss Sangeetha some roses or something, or give her some of my birthday chocolate, I might escape with mere paralysis or the loss of only one vital organ. I dunno.

By conventional definition, I still didn't make the cut, because I had to appeal to ACJC.

Somehow though, I can't really see myself giving a s**t, because during drama rehearsal yesterday I found out that I managed to get into ACJC, thanks to the efforts of the e'er-helpful drama department. 'Course, I still have to leg it to CJC tomorrow and go through one day of orientation before I can get the paperwork done, and even then I might have to contend with an angry Bro Paul Rogers, but aside from that, I think I'm pretty much through to the school of my choice.

There is, however, the massive issue of distance, seeing as I live in Sembawang and the closest MRT to ACJC is Buona Vista, an eternity's worth of travelling time away. But aside from that, I'm pretty psyched to be going to AC, especially after meeting all the freakin' awesome ACSian Theatre people, and also the fact that Jin, Tim K, Viknesh, Cheng Heng, Chris, You Wei, and hopefully Ken and Daryl'll all be there, so I won't be so alone. :D

Dad suggested today (well, no, not exactly; he'd been mulling it over for a long time) that I should take up residence at Oldham Hall or wherever Jin's staying at, because he doesn't mind paying the fees for a room in the hostel if it means it's more convenient for me. I guess it's the logical thing to do. Thing is, though, I'd like to come back to my own home at the end of the day. But I figure if Jin could've lasted four years without that, I can too. We'll see how things work out. Plus, it'd be funny to b***h to Cheng Heng every morning about the stupidly long distance we have to travel every day. Ironically, it's not really a laughing matter.

My main concern at the moment, distance aside, is managing to get out of school after getting the form to leave CJC. Mrs Creffield says that every year, when students approach him to get permission to leave the premises, Bro Paul flies into a rage and locks the gate, leaving us stranded within the school compound. Knowing me (and my friends would all probably say the same thing) I could likely ninja my way over the gate, and while it would be fun in the event that I don't get snagged on the barbed wire, that course of action's not exactly priority number one.

But enough about that, things are finally starting to look my way. For one, we don't have any more of those mass combat sessions in DEP any more, and I finished reading Soon I Will Be Invincible (thanks Indi) which wasn't as funny as I expected, but it had some interesting insights beyond typical superhero conventions. Struggling my way through The Space Wolf Omnibus, lent to me by (technically Indi, but... eh) Arlyn, but William King has a damn tedious writing style. Not half as bad as Lee Lightner, say, but it lacks the overzealous description of C.S. Goto, which admittedly made some of his scenes pretty bearable to read.

*spoilers for Mass Effect*

Also, played my way through Virmire again, this time with Tanya Shepard, my Renegade Soldier/Shock Trooper. This time I did things slightly differently -- I let Ashley go wih the salarian STG operatives to take down the AA tower, but in the end I still left Kaidan behind as the nuke ticked down. I might have been a total b***h to Ashley in this playthrough, but that didn't mean that I had the guts to let her go.

By contrast, I talked enough to Kaidan to see him turn down the threesome option (more on that in another post, if I remember), and left him alone for the rest of the game, because he's a s**t-useless character, and he's not much in the way of character development.

I don't know if this only happens on the second playthrough, but as my team effortlessly beat the crap out of Saren again (even faster than with Natasha), a cutscene I'd never seen before kicked in. Kaidan slumped over next to the softly-beeping nuke, one hand clamped firmly over a weeping gut wound, while the other gripped his pistol tightly. Every now and then he would squeeze off a shot at a marauding geth trooper. As the Normandy pulled away from the AA tower and into the stormy grey sky, he gave it a final parting glance, shut his eyes briefly, then resumed firing, his jaw set. The Normandy streaked through the Virmire sky and was gone in a flash of blue light.

Damn you, BioWare, for making me feel guilty for leaving him behiiiind...

And Renegade is so not my way to go. While it's definitely a lot more fun to play as a Soldier than it is with an Infiltrator, I actually had less fun during Tanya's playthrough than I did with Natasha's, because Tanya was such a terribly brutal character. While admittedly, it's fun to play the Renegade sometimes, most of the time you just feel terrible when you say or do certain things. Next time I am SO playing Paragon, regardless of the fact that I only have 3 Charm points and 12 Intimidate.

Also? I have too much money. I did too many sidequests and as a result have 9,999,999 credits, the maximum you can go in Mass Effect. As a result, nearly all of the cool expensive stuff that I picked up on Virmire, such as Colossus IX turian light armor, or an Avalanche IX shotgun, or even the Breaker X assault rifle I stumbled upon, all of it had to be converted into a measly four units of omni-gel. They really, really need to increase inventory space and monetary limits in the next Mass Effect. I've bought all the stocks of Spectre gear, the most expensive weaponry that money can buy, as well as Wrex's Geth Armory-manufactured Battlemaster IX heavy armor, and the ridiculously large amount of credits laughs at me every time I talk to a merchant.

*end spoilers for Mass Effect*

Also, some funny anecdotes about Young Avengers. Truthfully, I'm not too keen on the series, because I find I don't relate to the characters at all (ironically). However, it does lead to some hilarious discussions. Usually about *drools* Kate Bishop.

*Bryant and Indi are talking about games and comics, stuff in general*
Bryant: Oh, I borrowed Young Avengers the other day. The second trade.
Indi: Oh? How'd you like it?
Bryant: ... Eh, not that great. I find I don't gel with any of the characters in particular.
*Indi looks meaningfully at Bryant*
Bryant: ... Although Kate Bishop is so hot.
*Both laugh*
Indi: Really? I'm more a Cassie Lang kind of person.
Bryant: Well... I've always been a sucker for the quiet, dark-haired ones.
Indi (without missing a beat): Icansetyouupwithoneofthose.
Bryant: ... No, thanks.
Indi: Really?
Bryant: I think I'm fine for now.
Indi: Fool!

*Christie-jie and Bryant are walking back from the library after dropping the books off*
Christie-jie: I quite like Young Avengers.
Bryant: Eh. I find I don't relate to any of the characters. I mean, I don't do drugs, I haven't been raped, I'm not gay, I'm not an orphan...
Christie-jie: Oh! Oh! But that, that archer girl is so hot.
Bryant (thinking): Lord, thank you for my sister.

I didn't. That's all I have to say.

As far as the Ministry of Education is concerned, I'm off to CJC for now.

EDIT: Which brings to mind the question: should I even turn up for rehearsal tomorrow? Sure, it's to "show my dedication" and all that jazz, but I also have Chinese New Year visiting tomorrow. And I might not even make it into ACJC after all. Decisions, decisions.

EDIT: As a completely random afterthought, I think Infinite Crisis was s**t. I am also very tired. And depressed. I sleep now.

EDIT: Simply because I like being contrary, and also because it never occurred to me before, I'm posting a last snippet before bed. It suddenly dawns on me that this is like a freakin' repeat of what happened after my PSLE.

During PSLE:
- Put Anglo-Chinese School [Independent] as my first choice, put St. Joseph's Institution as my second.
- Didn't get posted into ACS(I), was posted instead to SJI.
- Appealed to ACS(I), made it.
- Decided, after the stupidly exorbitant price tag, that I would instead go to SJI.
- Received 4 years of Catholic education.

During O-Levels:
- Put Anglo-Chinese Junior College as my first choice, put Catholic Junior College as my second.
- Didn't get posted into ACJC, was posted instead to CJC.
- Appealed to ACJC...

ALTERNATE FUTURE TIMELINE #1:
- Make it into ACJC.
- Study at ACJC, taking DEP whether I like it or not.
- Receive 2 years of Methodist education.

ALTERNATE FUTURE TIMELINE #2:
- Make it into ACJC.
- Decide, because ACJC is really freakin' far from my house, that I would rather study at CJC.
- Receive 2 years of Catholic education. Again.

ALTERNATE FUTURE TIMELINE #3:
- Don't make it into ACJC.
- Study at CJC.
- Receive 2 years of Catholic education. Again.

ALTERNATE FUTURE TIMELINE #4:
- Don't make it into ACJC.
- Go into a depressed funk.
- While shambling along the streets in a haze of melancholy, find an oddly glowing beetle carved out of an unknown material.
- Beetle grafts itself to spine.
- Become the next freakin' Blue Beetle.
- ???
- PROFIT!

Ok, so in the time I've spent between updating last, and this update, I've been going back to school. Or rather, I've been going to ACJC, since the drama department there wants me to get a head start on the DEP. At first I was like "Eh, ok, that sounds pretty reasonable" but after going there for slightly over a week, it's been a special kind of hell.

Don't get me wrong. I'm ok with the people. In fact, I'm more than ok with the people -- I really like the people there. They're all really nice, and they seem like a really close-knit community. Everyone greets you with a smile, and is always willing to help out, especially the little J1 guy who has had no actual theatre experience in real life, and is probably the only guy who can't breathe from the diaphragm yet.

Let's take a real-life example, comparing ACSian Theatre people, against SJI Fencing people. So after the four rounds we had to do on... Wednesday, I think, I passed the water cooler, thinking instead that I should drink the water that I already had, and that I should let the others have their shot at the cooler. Thing is, my bottle was empty. So I grabbed it and made for the cooler downstairs, only to be stopped by Eleanor.

Eleanor: There's a water cooler here, dear. You don't need to go downstairs.
*Eleanor points over her shoulder to the toilets*
Bryant: Really? Hey, thanks. I had no idea.
Eleanor: Oh, no problem.

Now, let's compare this to if I had run into, say, Sam.

*Sam punches Bryant in the shoulder*
Sam: Yo! Water cooler's over here, dumbass.
Bryant: Ow! Get stuffed.
*pause*
Bryant: ... But thanks.
Sam: Yeah, no prob. Dumbass.

See? Drama, well at least for me, drama redefines civility. See, in SJI, it's not uncommon for the punch to elicit a surly "F**k you" and it snowballs from then on.

It's just the long hours that I mind. And the martial arts bulls**t. While I'm ok with the weird voice/character acting, because I was expecting that before I came, I'm not-so-ok with the physical aspect. Running, push-ups, sit-ups, I'm all used to, but not the fighting. I frankly don't feel any more like a soldier than I did before I joined up with drama. I'm just kinda sore, that's all, and I think I pulled my right hamstring flubbing a kick.

Seriously, there's this one section where they play this selection of epic, completely badass music over the speakers (of which I recognised all, but cannot name a single one), and we just kick and punch and do all sorts of weird shit to an imaginary opponent. At least until the alumni show up, and we have to pretend to fight them. So when one of them came up to me (they all call him Mr Teo) and put up his dukes, I dropped mine.

"I can't fight you!" I protested.

He shook his head. "No, come on. It's all right."

I didn't want to tell anybody that I fractured Khai Soon's arm accidentally in Sec 2 while playing soccer, so I threw a few halfhearted punches and kept away from the kicks.

Problem is, the same thing happened with another alumnus, Nick. But when he noticed I was just jabbing at him lightly, he asked "Where are your kicks? I want to see some kicks."

Ah, s**t.

"Sir, I--" I began, then trailed off when he gave me a very "what now?" kind of look.

So I kicked him as lightly as I could, aiming for one of his butt cheeks so it would absorb all the impact. Yeah, it sounds wussy, but when you grievously injure one of your friends without meaning to, you tend to get really cautious about these things.

Games are different. There's this sort of wall screening the violence away from you. I can take a rusty, bloodstained axe wrapped with barbed wire, splash you with burning kerosene, and then hack at you with said axe simply because it will do four times the damage it would normally do. I can reduce you to bloody chunks with a high-explosive rocket; I can blow your skull wide open with a hypersonic polonium-coated slug the size of a needle from three hundred metres, then watch with relish as your body convulses in the final throes of radiation poisoning, while your skin and flesh melt away layer by layer into a sickly green slop. But in harsh reality, ask me to simply throw a punch at you, no matter how sure that you are that you'll block it, and I won't do it. Not willingly, anyway.

And the hours! The hours. A regular timing is 5.00 to 8.30. That's three and a half hours of laborious slogging. I don't mind blocking, where we just do text and stage directions for that amount of time. That's actually really fun. But when you kick and punch at nothing for three and a half hours, even with the badass music blaring in the background, you tend to get pissed off at something. Worse yet? We've got at least three more weeks of this crap before we move on proper.

But that's not the point now. I have 3 days of no rehearsal, starting today, since it's Chinese New Year break! And I managed to finish Mass Effect by staggering home, exhausted, every day after rehearsal, to take a shower and plonk down on the couch, and play 'til about 3 a.m.

So I finished my Paragon Infiltrator/Commando career, Natasha Shepard, at level 49, fully decked out in HMV Spectre VII gear, with a slick Armax Arsenal-manufactured Predator M VII hardsuit. It was tough getting there, especially in some of the final fights of the game, but it was worth it.

A bit anti-climactic, though. Because Natasha's got, like, the most sullen face in the history of mankind, seeing her smile is the weirdest thing in the world. It's more like a happy grimace. Her lips are still pursed, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. It's so bizarre. It actually made me crack up in this one romantic moment.

*spoilers for Mass Effect*

Say, for instance, there's this one part where the Normandy is in lockdown, and Shepard is despairing next to his/her (in my case, her) locker. Then, depending on whoever you're romancing at the time, Ashley, Kaidan or Liara will come up to you, give you a few words of comfort, then pull you up from the floor into his/her arms.

So as Shepard gazed into Liara's eyes, and they drew closer, Liara smiled a little nervously, and Natasha... Natasha, well, did her little grimace thing. And I burst out laughing and planted my face into a nearby couch cushion. I couldn't watch them try to kiss each other because I would just start laughing again.

I don't think Natasha's ugly at all. She may not be the "prettiest" Shepard out there, but she's at least passable. Just that when she smiles, it looks so damn weird.

Speaking of which, I finally saw the infamous pre-Ilos scene, which is what got the game banned in Singapore in the first place. Truth be told, I'd already seen it on GameVideos, as part of an article detailing its prohibition from being sold here. But seeing it on my TV really made me wonder what the fuss was in the first place. I mean, didn't Rainie Yang make some show with one of our local celebrities that was leaps and bounds more explicit than what was shown in Mass Effect? They were advertising it quite a lot in the Cathay, too.

But honestly, all you get is a few dialogue options, and depending on whether you chose the Paragon or Neutral options, you get a glimpse of them embracing (from behind, at that; they don't even show them kissing, even for the male/female options), and then a shadowed scene of Shepard face to face with his/her love interest, and the next thing you know, your love interest sits up in bed to find Shepard watching him/her, already back in uniform, and leaning on the captain's desk. With Liara, you get about five seconds more of her holding Shepard close, and her eyes turning completely black, which is what happens when asari meld with their partners.

I don't know if I'm becoming more liberal or something, but it makes me wonder why this stuff was ever controversial in the first place. I've seen more explicit material in PG movies.

After finishing the game, though, what I don't understand is why there's such a furore over people not being able to see a female Shepard and Ashley, or a male Shepard and Kaidan get it on. Because, from what I hear from people poking around in the source code, there was supposed to be the option to romance any of the three love interests in the game, regardless of your gender. They removed the "gay" option some time in development (which is to say, Kaidan for guys, and Ashley for girls), but the dialogue remains the same, apparently. So essentially you're still romancing that character, and the only thing you don't get is the sex scene in the end, which I would be none the worse off not seeing anyway.

But why would you really want that? I mean, I understand if you desperately have to see your character and Ashley or Kaidan doin' the nasty in order to comprehend that they really love each other, but honestly, I think the dialogue is plenty romantic enough for me. The Neutral dialogue for female Shepard and Ashley is, to me, more romance-oriented than the Paragon dialogue for female Shepard and Liara. And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who sees anything between Ashley and female Shepard (henceforth referred to as FemShep) whenever they conclude a conversation with "Dismissed, Chief," and "Ma'am..." It sounds professional, but the way Jennifer Hale and Kimberly Brooks say it, well... you just have to hear it for yourself.

And they play the freakin' Love Theme after Virmire. The significance? Let me explain. So basically I left Ashley to arm the nuke, but when Saren's geth attacked, I left Kaidan to fight for himself at the AA tower, with Kirrahe's and Rentola's men. That almost made me cry, by the way. It was really damn sad. "I don't regret a thing, Commander..." But honestly, I think I would cry even more if it were Ashley saying that. Because I really like Ashley.

Anyhoo, what happens is that whoever I choose to leave behind will die in the nuke explosion. So obviously I chose to leave Kaidan, because he never really grew on me. And seeing Ashley desperately firing at squads of geth as water rushed in around her just screamed "Save her, you fool!"

So I did. I, for lack of a better word, pwnt Saren and his fancy-ass Reaper technology (Master Overload + Advanced Sabotage + Master Assassination + Adrenaline Burst = dead rogue Spectre), gently scooped her limp body out of the water, slung her over my shoulder, and ran like hell for the Normandy's ramp.

The explosion graphics are fantastic, by the way.

Hearing the dialogue after that, you cannot deny the ghey between the two of them. As the Love Theme plays quietly in the background, and Ashley cries that she should have been the one to be left behind on Virmire, Shepard finally cuts her off with a gentle "It was my decision to make, Ash. I had to choose." Then quietly, she whispers, "I chose you."

And Ashley just sort of sits there dumbstruck, as Shepard dismisses the rest of the Normandy's crew. And let me just add again that the freaking Love Theme is playing in the background.

... And you people, you FemShep/Ashley shippers are complaining why?!

I set up a Renegade Soldier career yesterday, Tanya Shepard. This time I'm trying to do things differently... but it's so hard to play as a Renegade. I hate being mean to people, especially when they don't deserve it. I dread the day when I'll have to point a gun at Conrad Verner's forehead, then find out over the airwaves later that he killed himself out of desperation. He was annoying, true. But nobody deserves that. That's the powerful thing about Mass Effect, I suppose. Even though you're always on the "good" side, your character can be the biggest b*****d this side of the Terminus Systems. And you really feel like it.

*end spoilers for Mass Effect*

Oh, I hadn't realised until today, that I'm essentially fulfilling the role of the two commandos in Red Alert 3: Natasha and Tanya. One's a sniper, the other a rifleman. Weird!

EDIT: From what I hear from Sam too, the ghey is also pretty strong between a male Shepard and Kaidan. Hence, you know, the "Kaidan... man-sex time" quote.

I forgot why Cheng Heng ever said that, but it was funny as hell when he did.

Speaking of which, yesterday the man was nice enough to invite a whole load of us over to his place to celebrate the end of O-levels. Since I had no idea what Cheng Heng's address was, prior to yesterday, so I had all the guys meet at my place instead. Mark brought a few games, plus his hard drive and controllers, so he was nice enough to give me the New Xbox Experience, which I couldn't obtain due to phailure to connect to Xbox Live.

In order to system link Sam's and my 360s, we had to have another TV, which Cheng Heng didn't have the luxury of owning, so I figured I would lug mine all the way over. It wasn't that bad, since Mom and Dad dropped it off on the way to the cookie sale in church, so the only real challenge we had to deal with was Cheng Heng's parents' incredulity. They weren't opposed to it, thankfully, but there's nothing quite like dropping an ancient, dusty CRT in the middle of somebody's patio for a surprise.

Picked up Sam Wang, Moses, and Mark, led them on a mass exodus, and met Sam and Chris at Cheng Heng's place. Tried to start up a game of Halo 3 shortly after, but we were interrupted by dinner, which was amazing. Cheng Heng's family had apparently flown in steaks from Australia, and damn, those were the thickest steaks I had ever seen. You could've fired a gun at one of those and not have the bullet come out the other side. I slogged through an easy half-pound of prime beef cut before passing out, catatonic, in the mashed potato. It was worth it.

Dessert was even better: after watching Cheng Heng's brother play some CoD4 (badly, admittedly), Cheng Heng's dad brought out a monster of a brownie, which was slathered in warm toffee sauce. Also, notably, from Australia. I might consider living there someday.

After which we talked, for quite a while, over cups of tea, sticking to our usual topics of girls/games/girls in games/stuff. Looking back, it seems astonishing how we can talk for so long about such useless topics, but then again, we're a bunch of gamer nerds with quite possibly our entire social circle sitting at that one table. Then, you know, it starts to make perfect sense.

Then came the real star of the night: the after-dinner gaming. We were split into teams for Halo 3, with me, Chris and Sam Wang on one team, while Mark, Sam, Cheng Heng, and an astonishingly competent Moses were on the other. It was sad. I played beautifully every time, never falling below a +8 K/D ratio (except on Construct, where it was +1, but that was just a massacre), but for some reason we lost every single time. It was hilarious. Sam's team won a Team Slayer 50-45 on Guardian, followed by a steamroll CTF on High Ground, 3-0, then another Team Slayer on Epitaph going 50-48 to them. Cue several jabs at Moses' hacking on TF2 crossing over to Halo 3.

Our team fared no better at King of the Hill, where we lost horribly 66-150 on Construct. Then came the change-up, with Cheng Heng's brother joining our team, as well as Mark and Sam Wang changing places. Moses came over to my team as well, while Chris went over to the other side.

Slightly better, I guess. King of the Hill on Narrows wasn't too bad a loss, with the final score 128-150, with Sam's team claiming a pretty hard-fought victory. Team Slayer on Valhalla was our team's first win, with us taking the easy lead 50-38, despite a furore over Moses' teamkill. See this later in the quotes section.

Snowbound was another close one: I honestly don't remember the score, but we lost by a tiny margin for that match. It was our last, though, especially since Sam was itching to try out Mark's newly-acquired Mortal Kombat VS DC Universe.

It isn't a bad game, admittedly. From what I saw that day, it's pretty well balanced, except for those characters who can warp out of the arena and appear right behind their enemies. It's not a true-button masher either, and doesn't quite match the frenetic play style of Tekken, but I'd say it's pretty simple to pick up and play.

After Mortal Kombat VS DC Universe's hilarious porno dialogue (no, I'm totally serious; look it up) Soulcalibur IV seemed dull, especially when Cheng Heng beat the crap out of me as Yoda, that imbalanced little muppet.

Next up: Mass Effect, and the shittiness of ACSian Theatre.

---

Quotes:

*Bryant is telling the rest about how Cheng Heng gunked up his controller, and Jin broke it, and Christie-jie is complaining about both of them*
Bryant: ... And so yeah, he might've screwed it up by dropping it. I dunno. I'm not sure if he did, but most likely, yeah.
Cheng Heng: Hey! So why is your sis mad at me for getting your controller dirty, and not mad at him for breaking it? What does he have that I don't?!
*Bryant takes a deep breath*
Bryant: PERSONAL... HYGIENE!

*Moses is killed by Chris in Halo 3, without even getting a chance to fire off a shot*
Moses (scowls): Haxxor.
Chris (without missing a beat): Right back at ya.
Everybody else: BUUUUURNED

*Bryant gets splattered by a shotgun out of nowhere*
In-game message: Sgt Fuzzy was killed by KhAos ThEoRy
Bryant: Hmm. I think Sam's cloaked.
Sam: NO I'M NOT!
*Bryant dies horribly again*
Bryant: ... Yup, he's cloaked.

Halo 3 announcer: Slayer.
*Everything is reasonably quiet, until there's the sound of an assassination. Mark drops dead*
Mark: WHAT THE F**K! WHO'S OTTO?!
Sam: Uh, Moses, I think. Why?
Mark: He just teamkilled me for the missile pod!
Bryant: Yay, good job, Moses!
Mark: Moses is on your team too, you know!
Bryant: Huh? Really? S**t!

Sam (casually): So, where's the All Blacks rugby ball I got you for Christmas?
*Cheng Heng freezes*
Cheng Heng: Uh... it's... still here.
Bryant: Might wanna take a look in the septic tank.
*Everybody laughs*
Mark: Now that's a real "All Blacks" ball.
Chris: Don'tcha mean "All Browns"?

[Recurring quote]
Sam (in a low, sultry voice): Kaidan... man-sex time.
*Sam humps an invisible Kaidan*

Halo 3 announcer: Game... over.
Bryant: What the f**k, we lost again? Dammit! Grenade self... grenade self... grenade se-- YES!

*Bryant is crouching in the water with a sniper rifle. There is a shot, and Chris drops dead.*
Chris: Dammit, Sgt Fuzzy. Good shot.
*Cheng Heng drops dead next*
Micro: Dammit! Sgt Fuzzy!
*Sam's the only one left standing in that area. He jumps, and Bryant hits him in the chest instead of the head*
Sam: HAH! F**k you, Sgt Fu--
*Bryant fires again, this time catching Sam in the head*
Sam: DAMMIT! SGT FUZZY!

First things first. 9 points raw in the O's. That's right, you are not misreading that. 9. Points. I was freaking ecstatic. I had a horrible nightmare where I dreamt I got 16 points, and woke up in the middle of the night surprised not to find tears on my face.

The day itself was terrible; from the moment my head hit the pillow I was just swimming in trepidation. Damien said that he'd be stinkin' drunk the day results came out; when I sat down in the hall with Cheng Heng I told him that he wasn't. Then he spoke, and I honestly felt dizzy with the sheer amount of alcohol on his breath. Cripes. It was like sitting next to a brewery vat.

So we sat through countless speeches and awards ceremonies, until finally the moment of truth dawned on us. I took my results slip, feeling like I was going to throw up even more with every passing second. I didn't even want to look at it.

Then I finally flipped it over and counted.

Holy crap.

And there was much rejoicing. Well, on my part. There was a whole cacophony of noise around me; people cheering, hugging, crying, swearing, the whole shebang. I was hugging people left and right, friends, acquaintances, any teacher of mine that came into reach (except Mr Lam, because that would get me eviscerated). I remember Mrs Ang and Ms Lee both squealing with joy as I hugged both of them, and we did a little jig of happy as we danced in the hall. I even hugged Mr Tang, who looked a little shocked, but for some reason was the last to let go. :P I tried to look for Mrs Kwok and Mrs Lee, but I guess they wisely disappeared, to avoid being glomped by a ridiculously excited 16-year-old boy.

9 points isn't fantastic, but it's a heck of a lot better than what I expected. Seriously, after that dream I quite honestly expected to get 16 points. I'm so relieved things turned out otherwise.

Better yet, after today, I found out I qualified for the Drama Elective Programme and the English Linguistics Elective Programme in ACJC! And to think I was so worried about it. I didn't even want to submit the forms yesterday, but after some pushing from Shen Shin, Indi, Mom, and the Lord Himself, I passed them both to the staff behind their respective counters, and the very next day I passed both tests with flying colours. Better yet, I bought Burnout Revenge to celebrate.

I feel incredibly guilty now, admittedly, after saying that I thought all the people who said "God will help you" were annoying. Because it's truly through God's grace that I've managed to get thus far, and without Him, I truly am nothing. I guess this is His way of humbling me, and by gum, did it work. He carried me through the storm, when I needed Him most, and all I can do to thank Him now is to make the best with what I've got open to me now.

Congrats and major props to the guys who did well, and to the guys who didn't quite meet their targets, well, don't sweat it. Make the best with what you've got, and don't ever, EVER give up.

To Daryl, You Wei, Emmanuel, De Yi, Ken, Chris, Cheng Heng, and anyone else applying for AC, I really, really hope to see you there. ARTS BUDDIES!

EDIT: Quote of win from the final TF2 game we would have before the results, the night before.

Aloysius (typing): Hey, I see our problem.
Moses/Bryant (typing): What?
Aloysius (typing): We're typing too much. We need to stop typing so much!
Aloysius (voice chat): Blitz, Fuzzy! Use your mikes! See! Fuzzy's using his! Awesomeman! Get a mike!
Bryant (voice chat): Not much.
Moses (typing): I prefer to type.
Jem (typing): You don't see me telling you not to sleep with your mom, so why should I get one?