Got this from Sharon's blog! *waves to Sharon*

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Quality Time
with a secondary love language being
Acts of Service.

Complete set of results

Quality Time:		11
Acts of Service:		8
Physical Touch:		5
Words of Affirmation:		5
Receiving Gifts:		1

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz
(and like Sharon said, when you're done, get back to studying!)

M-pact was... mind-blowing.

Wow.

Wow wow wow.

Nothing like watching them live in concert, the energy and the larger-than-life personas and the voices...!

You should just watch them sing "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies Fairy" Nothing short of magic. (oops, grammatical error! Thanks Davina for the correction :P But that would be quite a lot of fluttering for one fairy, then...)

Speechless with awe. Best a cappella concert yet, and to think it was a spontaneous last-minute by-chance happened-to-be-in-school (mugging on a Sunday!) happened-to-have-extra-ticket instance... in exchange for such a thrilling ride.

I hope they come again. I got their CD, fully autographed by all of them *beams*

(Okay break over Charm~)

"Can I buy you a drink, or should I just give you the money?"
-Failed pickup artist

Patrick: I'm mad.
Spongebob: What's the matter, Patrick?
Patrick: I can't see my forehead.

Insanity ensues.

I don't know where I placed my JC gothic notes and I really really really want my Dracula notes but I already spent the wee hours of the morning turning out my highest cupboards and I still don't see it howwww?

Headache for the large part of the day. Couldn't get the denser stuff in so I abandoned them and settled for a fresh new entirely unrelated book instead. Polished off 300-odd pages straight in a few hours... It was such a lovely lovely read, albeit being somewhat a forbidden pleasure in revision week... This is what I call light reading, genuine teen fiction, (not Freud's psychoanalytic readings or Irigaray's and Cixous's feminist theories or The Haunting of Sylvia Plath or poetry that boggles me still).

(Goodness, I want to write so much! But everytime my fingers tap upon the keyboard the words that appear inevitably tell me that I must get back to studying soon, soon...)

Oh you really must study Charm you must! For all the modules you so love this sem... at least do them all justice, yes? =)

It is the perfect period to study and write, I think. In a quiet isolation where you're not quite alone. The hum of the air conditioning compressor, the chatter of people further down the corridor, the conversation of strangers sharing the same table.

But it is tempting to launch into a series of contemplations too, no? The silence is entrancing.

Just recalled a little something I came across yesterday, a blog address passed to me by a traumatised junior. It is, to be fair, a journal well-written, in language and in expression and in flow... Extremely explicit, yes, but then I have come to realise that sexual explicitness does not automatically negate literary merit, if you know how to tap into language in its beauty.

Perhaps the problem comes with knowing the person, whether directly or indirectly. Or, cruelly put, by the writer's physical being, one that perhaps might not live up to... to... expectations of... associations with the written imagery.

Painful fact. =(

But what really disturbed me was its accessibility to the people in her real life, students she teaches, young kids, children with a generally untainted world-view and an idealistic impression of the world in all its decency... not-- not-- your role model (is that not what an adult, a teacher, ought to be, perhaps?) engaging in... decadent acts.

Or are the technologically savvy children nowadays more... enlightened creatures than we were/ I was back then? more exposed to the world, more... knowledgeable?

Is it necessarily a bad thing, to know?

My junior declares herself deeply traumatised.

I push it aside as yet another piece of written text that an author is perfectly entitled to write, and readers are perfectly entitled to engage with or dismiss. So long as it isn't deliberately positioned to hurt another it is fine... right?

But...

But the kids! The horror! *groans* Am I being conservative in suggesting that perhaps there are still things that oughtn't be accessed when one is not yet of age? Especially in the form of explicit descriptions of the personal life of someone you know, someone that may perhaps hold the delicate responsibilities of nurturing young minds? *faintly nauseous*

Ouch.

Alas. I shouldn't have switched on the computer... there comes a million and one things to distract me, friends with news and cheerful chatter, and blogs finally updated with quirky new entries.

And the random personality test that I chanced upon in a friend's blog, that I took before back in JC, I think, but decided to take again, with the exact same results, if I remember right...

Charmaine, your signature color is Pink Chiffon

There's nothing saccharine about you — your sweetness is one hundred percent natural! A gentle, thoughtful romantic like you must be paired with a color that's soft and warm — but still has a subtle sophisticated sheen. That's why Pink Chiffon is the perfect color for you! You're probably known for making the most of every situation and trying to see the best in people. But while you may be cheerful and innocent at times, you're nobody's fool. You may see the world through rose-colored glasses, but you can still see, after all.While you make wise insights time after time, it's probably your good nature and perpetual optimism that are what you're known for and what make you a joy to be around. Even those who sometimes make fun of your Pollyanna-like proclamations will turn to you when they need a friend and some cheering up. So keep pink, Chiffon. With you around, the world's a better place!

What's Your Signature Color?

Brought to you by Tickle

*raises an eyebrow* "Pollyanna-like"! and girlish pink! Sheesh, I'm becoming a stereotype...! Just when I would very much like to declare that I am not a girly-girl...

Anyhow. I spent my weekend catching up on sleep and spending time with the family (and shopping with Mum! ohohohoho!) and (re-)reading Villette for my next essay. And I find yet again that Villette is really a lovely read, when you start to pick up on the nuances, and see how little fragments of the text fall in place when you do a romantic (the era, not the emotion) reading, or a feminist reading... or when you read it for yourself, for pleasure =) How much of myself I do see in the novel, in Lucy, in Paulina, even in flighty Ginevra... it is in instances like that, when you find a startling familarity in character, or values, or beliefs, or upbringing, that you feel how real literature can get, sometimes. It is ever a continual process of self discovery, an unfolding and an exploration that is all of your own, whenever you put a text in perspective.

Or it is just me being narcissistic and seeing myself everywhere, haha.

I am too easily read sometimes, I think, and, while this bothers me at certain crucial moments in time when I feel intimidated, I figured that there is still only so much that one person can know about another, and the power that comes with knowledge doesn't necessarily need to be threatening to either. No time to delve into this at present, I really must go back to reading and then writing. And the midi, too...!

Till the next time =)

I'm so glad the week-of-consecutive-assignments is over! =)

Oh no, I'm backdated in my email reply again! But here's a mini entry for a dear auntie whom I haven't seen for many many years... since we were this small, I think:



Hello Auntie Miiko! *waves* =)

Here's a mini picture-collage update of the family just last month!



Will email soon!

Excerpt from A Soprano on Her Head

I like this book! =D

On hiking... and life

How strange to realise that something so natural had come as a revelation. It was obvious from obseving the people we met that I was not alone in my lack of insight. Only when they stop to catch their breath was it permissible for most hikers to enjoy the scenery and the sunshine and the tingle in the air. Then back they went into over-directing their feet, step-by-step, monotonously wending their way to some chosen destination above... I realised how dangerous a destination can be. If we put our energies only into getting our destination or reaching our goal, we block our sensibilities along theway. We pretend that arriving is of utmost importance, and put our mind to work overtime in seeing that we get there. Once there, alas, the habis of the journey remain, and we soon spoil our enjoyment with plotting the next stretch or the return trip.

We often give our minds too exclusive a role in the mind/body relationship. Our senses play ever less responsible roles, like children who become convinced that mother really does know best and thus lose their capacity for growth...

How often in life do we do the same kind of eyes-down plodding with an over-abundance of directional information from our minds: careful, now, to say the right things in that job interview... don;t make those exciting plans unless you're sure you can follow through... better be careful abou this new friendship... careful, careful, watch your step, don't stumble, keep your eyes on the trail. We accept this tyranny because it is so familiar. Authority figures all along the way have trained us all too well. Small wonder that our minds take over the authority role in constantly dictating our bodies...

When we over-look, over-try, over-instruct in our lives, we do the same ankle-twisting stumbling. We miss the essence of the experience as a constant discovery, a consciousness of being, a journey with a view of peaks and far horizons rather than a necessary trudge along a dusty pathway. When we wake up our awareness, we become like a mustang galloping above a canyon rather than a workhourse stumbling along with blinders, guided by the presumed expertise of the mind-master. This does not mean tat we can abandon the mental proceses so necessary in learning. It is more that we create a mutually supportive team, a partnership of mind and body...

-"Journey with a View", from A Soprano On Her Head by Eloise Ristad

I need a good thesis statement. How? Mulvey's article on Visual Pleasure and the Narrative Cinema is a nicely grounded one, and applicable enough, but studying Psycho through gender representations alone is so limiting...! I don't like =( I wanna talk about the notion of loneliness and entrapment and alienation because they're closer to the heart of the text, but what approach do I use then? And what point should I make?

Oh, my brain.

Anyhow, here's a quirky bit of poem from Grace Nicholls's Fat Black Woman Poems Collection, dedicated to all my dear female readers:

The Fat Black Woman's Motto on Her Bedroom Door
IT'S BETTER TO DIE IN THE FLESH OF HOPE
THAN TO LIVE IN THE SLIMNESS OF DESPAIR

Poetry is lovely, really. I wish I weren't so intimidated by them half the time.

Back to film-essaying!

Good morning Charm, I'm glad you finished your assignments.

It's alarming how you can plan weeks in advance and do notes and start writing, and still get nothing done until the night before.

Am feeling oddly spaced out but otherwise very awake.

Am so glad for Reso prac last night! Love the singing, love the in-between breaks =) And the hilarious bus-and-mrt ride home where Jiayan and I and Adrian (for the bus part of the journey, at least) contemplated a series of Alternate Designs for MRT Doors For Inconsiderate People Who Block The Way.

Gives the crammed brain a little bit of a breather, and what a relief this little gust of fresh air brings! For once in a way the bits of my proposal and the meeting news article fall into place, and words could flow in welcomed fluidity.

Only one more assignment to go before the weekend! =)

I finished my body lit essay! *whoops with glee* All 2700-odd words of it, which, along with the bibliography, adds up to 10 pages =)

I haven't submitted a 10-paged lit essay since the last time when Dr A was recovering from her lasik surgery and requested to have our essay content enlarged to font size 14 so she can read better.

Was feeling decidedly sorry for myself because technology decided to turn its nose at me just as the Week of Many Deadlines loomed in sight. My desktop hard disk has crashed proper and refused to be revived; my laptop hangs with every program I open, which meant that work takes up double the time.

So I spent my Sunday in school, continued into Monday through the night, hitting a decidedly optimistic 2,200 words only at 5 a.m. this morning. Which meant that early morning Science of Music lecture has to be forgone (again), because I cannot under any circumstance risk a migraine any time this week =(

Oh, a helpful tip--Panadol is actually effective when taken at the onset of a migraine, the period of time when you feel it coming. Once the ache gets into your head, though, it doesn't work anymore.

So Panadol did come in helpful sometime in the late afternoon today, which explains why I'm still alive and well and typing away at this hour, completed essay on the table =)

But this is just assignment 1 of 4 for the week. Oh, woe. Never liked consecutive deadlines.

Am tremendously grateful for friends who are around online or otherwise to put up with my alternately frazzled nerves and drowsy incoherence for the last couple of days.

Am looking forward to next Monday, where I shall be entitled to a day or two to breathe. Maybe get mum to go Vivo for a long long long long long missed shopping trip, or tea-break. =D