the Absolute loss of the Absolute

We live in a world where there has been a complete and utter loss in the Absolute.

In my few years of intellectual study at the university, scores of research in the humanities have only taught me to unlearn everything i knew in my younger days, where the textbook affirmed a sense of truth and certainty. In every study and academic article, I am told that there is no resolution or agreement on any matter. That there are too many possibilities in the construction of a Truth that is constantly on trial as prosecuters question it's identity and it's existence. This crisis in meaning is regretful indeed, for as a lowly undergraduate student, i am faced with a speechless argument. All the evidence i have been taught to use to substantiate my argument are but hollow as their own substantial evidence fails. The grand pyramid of meaning has come to an absolute loss, and only those who are brave enough to confront it are rendered silent by the abyss of meaning.

I've always been very good at memorizing facts and fictions. Whatever it was that i was taught at school, it was certainly not for it's content, but the way to remember this or that. So now as i am confronted with this problem where i have to create meaning, i find myself baffled and irrefutably stupid. The inability to articulate something that is a mere haze, that i am completely blameless for, makes me feel even less able to deal with fact that i am in this situation. The majority of the student population would inevitably say that I am "thinking too much", a curse of those who seek to discover. But what of those people who like me, seek for that ultimate purpose, delving ourselves into the depths of the years of wise words only to emerge and realise that the real truth was that there was none at all?

the study of the humanities came from the Greeks, refined in the Renaissance, and it's focus was to draw man (or woman, in this postmodern age) into their inner beings and contemplate their powers of production and agency. it's aim was to uplift and enlighten the individual, making himself both a subject and object of his own understanding. yet in our contemporary world, to the very same purpose we have discovered far too much, and that has destablized our world. Progress in the arts and sciences have corrupted us, and i find it tremendously funny that progress, that old fashioned, 'bourgeois' term is still the bloody credo for my home goverment. Perhaps we desperately cling on to the old to keep some structure in our lives, to prevent upheaval and chaos. this denial has inevitably had an impact on me, growing up in that glass box atmosphere, and as I unfold and unlearn the years of fake, plastic packaging, I realised that there would be no turning back once the raw heart is exposed to that dark and endless universe.

This then, leads me to conclude again to an all familiar position. The failure of logic and rationality. The only objective truth for you and me isn't the proof of what is and what is not, since there isn't ever an infallible one. It is the subjective experience of senses and feelings that creates our reality, and they dont need to be justified or argued for since there isn't ever an unquetionable truth of the matter. I feel sorry for the rationalists who are still attempting to cling on to that meagre ounce of meaning through their "justifications", forgetting that their assumptions are flawed to begin with. We are living the century of absurdity, under the pathetic mask of civilized rhetoric leftover from the past. so instead of denying yourselves the pleasure, please, embrace the true anarchy and disorder of this life.

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"A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrownInto a fine distraction --
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher --
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly --
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat --
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility --
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part."

White

"And what i do is what i feel
And what i feel is where i have to go
And where i go is where you are.
My love, my fear, my beating heart...
And what my senses say is this
That where i'm scared to go is bliss..."

--- White, Naomi (from the album Everyone Loves You)

Love this song right now. It's one of those songs that you blast down the deserted highway, at 7 in the morning just before the sun rises along the Amalfi Coast while recollecting those moments with that person, where both of you are laughing. Where both of you are crying. Where the both of you are yelling, running, shouting, fighting. And now alone, you look outside the window, lighting up your cigarette, seeing the sun's yellow tinge tipping over the ground.

Florence's Birthday, Saturday

OK so it got a little crazy.. Sonia and me! (she's egyptian-vietnamese. How exotic!)

Our best oo7 poster impersonation.

The birthday girl!

It's just a funny shot.

Caught in Action!

wanderlust

Please let me indulge in some wanderlust,
Travelling the world until I am dust.

Things to do before i die (not in any particular order):

1. Driving down the Amalfi Coast, Italy.
2. Checking in at the Hotel Fox, Copenhagen http://www.hotelfox.dk/large.html
3. Tango on the streets in Buenos Aires.
4. Dancing in a Cuban Bar, Havana.
5. Boating down in high fashion in Venice
6. Drinking Absinthe in Barcelona, Spain.
7. Taking artistic photos in Prague.
8. Watching an Opera in Paris.
9. Staying in a villa in Morroco.
10. Tanning in Corfu, Greece.
11. Sipping fruit punch in the Maldives.
12. Visiting temples in Kyoto.
13. taking the Transiberian Railway from Beijing to Russia.
14. Living it up in a 1920s Jazz bar, Shanghai.

Electrochoco Party

Free flow chocolates and alcohol in a down out warehouse. So underground!

Predrinking before with Berenger and Florence!

the happy bunch high on chocolates

you know who you are.

When I first held you I was cold
A melting snowman I was told
But there was no-one there to hold before
I swore that I would be alone for ever more

Wow look at you now
Flowers in the window
It's such a lovely day
And I'm glad you feel the same
Cause to stand up, out in the crowd
You are one in a million
And I love you so
Lets watch the flowers grow

There is no reason to feel bad
But there are many seasons to feel glad, sad, mad
It's just a bunch of feelings that we have to hold
But I am here to help you with the load

So now we're here and now is fine
So far away from there and there is time, time, time
To plant new seeds and watch them grow
So there'll be flowers in the window when we go

Wow look at us now
Flowers in the window
It's such a lovely day
And I'm glad you feel the same
Cause to stand up, out in the crowd
You are one in a million,
And I love you so
Lets watch the flowers grow

a life in fiction

'Such were the authors of my being: of all the gifts it had pleased Heaven to bestow on them, a feeling heart was the only one that descended to me; this had been the source of their felicity, it was the foundation of all my misfortunes'
Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I woke up this day to find that it is one too often that i find my sense of self in words. My being, my head and my heart only to be acknowledged by these faceless, voiceless writers from the distant past, for whom are as severed from me as I am from the world. What is it that speaks to me in these people? We are thousands of years apart, worlds and worlds away. Yet these words look up at me with the familiar face of someone who could be me, someone who knew me through all time. These moments of familiarity have happened one too many times, from my childhood until now. Words, so beautifully expressed, seemed to convey what i could never, and created my inherent dependancy on them as if by the very act of reading i was released. As a child, they served to be my invisible friends acknowledging the same inclinations i had for dreams and fantasies and now in my current state they again aid me as i seek solace and understanding from myself and the world. Words have done for me what music could not, for in music there is only mutual companionship in a irrational language that is the closest companion to my heart. But words, they speak directly to me and engage my mind to move my heart. This kind of confrontation sits well with me for I am want to be led, and it is this kind of authority that so dangerously leads individuals to lose their minds and act foolishly. It is this authority that bring about the presence of religious fanatics, zealous politicians and other ideological indulgences. That is the basest form of relationship one could have with the most beautiful words in the world, leaving me to deduce that perhaps the best way to mediate this is not to let your mind away with words but let your heart have its say. As Pascal said, "the heart has reasons which reason does not know" and i see fit that is one's best protection against the darkness of the mind. I dont think the heart knows what is good or bad, perhaps it only knows more or less. In most instances when we do something wrong, we feel it in our hearts but it is our mind that says it is wrong. And it is our heart that moves us to say more or less of that because the person whomotivates himself or herself by saying "i'm doing this or that because it makes sense to do so" is ultimately a really sad person because he or she has to live by the logic of the mind, logic being a flawed concept in itself. Progress of the sciences and arts have not brought us further in this world indeed dear Rousseau, because nobody has yet given theory to the language of the heart and damn you for trying.

the perfect weekend

What a great weekend! The one thing i love about my french friends: they really know how to throw a great party=)

Black and White Party @ Raph's place
Dancing the night away in a living room
the pretty faces smiling, drinking, smiling, laughing
Everyone looked charming in their black and white get up in honour of Fabien who we told that it was a red party,
Alex sported a new haircut which made him look totally hot
Sophie couldn't stop kissing me
Louis made me laugh all night with his naughty humour and blue eyes
Claire and I shaking it like true asians
Magali was drunk and i love it when she is
Manu and me letting our party animals out
What i wouldnt give to go back to that night of druken debauchery!




All Boy's Dinner @ Drew's
An accidental tourist, booze, cigarettes and wrestling
Bad jokes and great food
I love my homies!

Eye of the Storm

Here i am, back with Bach in the library.

For the first time in awhile, my mind is blank. Blank and empty, just filled by the solitary, rising notes of the Cello in the prelude. Perhaps this is the beginning of peace. Perhaps it is oblivion befallen on me. Or perhaps it is the moment that we call the still point where it is neither. I have come to accept that solitude and peace are synonymous, yet we battle within ourselves not to embrace it. What do we fear?

My mind is blank again. I dont see, nor feel, nor move or am moved. I am not a free agent today, i will relinquish the control today. I'll let this boat wash away down the river, and it wouldn't be my fault. After years of being beaten around by the waves, you learn to let go...you let the boat drift, since hanging on or letting go you are still afloat anyway.

My mind is blank...filled with light and blinding. its a test, one of those games of trust. i dont see anything or anyone around me anymore. I have surrendered today.

the state of my living

In case you were wondering where did all my money go... it was spent pimping up my place which i say i'm pretty proud of even though i dont have a TV yet.

the living room with lanterns from Chinatown here.


i LOVE my bathroom. its big enough for all my barang.


This is where i never get up for class.



I actually cook. yes.


Study and dining area.


Home sweet home!

the trials and tribulations of being a sister.

It's sometimes strange to know that since the day you were born, you were intrinsically linked to someone else, someone you didn't have a choice over, someone you had to care about, someone you were similar yet so different to.

All these years, i've had a love-hate relationship with my little brother. Since the day he was born, i suddenly felt like the attention had gone to someone else, and while my parents were not watching i would hide his milk bottle...put the blanket over his face...hit him with toys...dressed him up as a girl..in short, i abused my little brother in ways only an older sister would dare to do, and him being a wee baby could not protest. Those days, i lapped up the power of being a head taller than him, of being smarter, stronger and of being a big bully.

As the years went by, this little brother of mine grew to become the bane of my life. Sneaking around my diaries, telling tales to parents and rock music during A'levels resulted in some pretty drastic measures like me cutting up his computer wires. It was apparent to me that i would never reconcile with him, and that i was severed from these people whom i happened to share the same family name with. They were mere ghosts in my presence, living the life of 4 people with hardly any relation to each other, not knowing what is on each other's mind.

Til today, i still dont know if those dark days were the result of my own tormented adolescence or if that was the true state of affairs. But i'm so glad they are gone, because now, when i look at that wee baby brother of mine, I see a fine and loyal friend, the listening ear who will always be by my side no matter what choices i have made. The wee baby who's reply to me being away from the family is "F*** YOU LA. COME BACK", the boy who stayed with me that one night i had massive stomach ache and thought i was going to die, the rolling of eyes whenever i come home crying about a break up, the little boy who ran away from tuition class by hiding in the cupboard and who was afraid to stick out his tongue and eat dark food thinking he was Superman with a white nappy cloth. The children we were and always will be flying kites out of windows, throwing massive pieces of bread to invisible birds, playing camping under the table...

you are the best brother a sister could have. the only one i know!
HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY YEOW!

for You, that time between us is eternal still.

Lizzy on Love....

The only time you know you really love someone is when you love them for their flaws. For their vulnerability. That which makes us human. Because the person you love is a real person, not an ideal. Love is the ideal. So to all of you lovers out there, remember to honour the person, because between that fine frailty called human nature and the power of love, there stands 2 people wanting to be with one another.

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somewhere I have never travelled,
gladly, beyond any experience,
your eyes have their silence.
In your most frail gesture

are things which enclose me
or which I cannot touch
because they are too near.
Your slightest look,

easily will unclose me.
Though I have closed myself,
as fingers, you open always,
petal by petal, myself, as Spring opens

Touching skillfully, mysteriously
her first rose.

Or, if your wish be to close me,
I and my life will shut,
very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower
imagines the snow carefully
everywhere descending.

Nothing which we are to perceive
in this world equals the power
of your intense fragility,
whose texture compells me
with the color of its countries
rendering death and forever
with each breathing.

I do not know what it is about you
that closes and opens
Only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

- ee cummings

Politicalizzy Speaking Issue. 1

Scholar system
may become obsolete
Like China's imperial exam, Singapore's way of selecting top scholars will outlive its usefulness in a changed world. By Seah Chiang Nee.
Nov 27, 2005
http://littlespeck.com/content/

SINGAPORE'S early successes were built largely on the back of a scholarship system that - broadly speaking - followed imperial China as a way to recruit the 'best and brightest" to serve the country.

For 1,300 years of imperial examination history, China's emperors had selected 100,000 state-level and more than a million provincial scholars to administer the vast country.

Although the details differed, the objective of ancient China and 21st Century Singapore was similar - aimed at getting the best scholars who do well in education to help run the country............
_________________________________________________________________________

AS a citizen of Singapore, i would say damn, i'm pretty glad all the scholars are working for the bloody government because that leaves people like me to make all the money i want in the private sector.

I also rather doubt Singaporeans have any issue with the elitism. I mean, most of them already accept their lot as cookie cutter, petit-bourgeousies. And that spells wonders for the rest of us whom are fruitfully benefitting from their lack of interest and extreme dullness by shining in contrast.

So? Sue Machiavelli for coming up with these principles. The machinery will certainly collapse by itself one day, and one day you and I will be the mere collective in history books so it really doesnt matter.

The search for coherence.

The world is inherently an irrational place.

Perhaps thats we ruthlessly try to colonize it, tearing it apart, deconstructing it, only to replace it with notions of logic and the orderly. With what we call civilization and society. And deep down inside don't we all hate it.

For years i've been trying to make sense out of this life, trying to grasp for some kind of pattern and meaning and each time i just sink deeper into the quick sand. It evades me and i've learnt to evade it too, fearing to find out what i'll find beneath it all. What is this savagery that we call life? The trouble we go through to deceive ourselves away from the primal and carnal instincts of survival.

Sometimes i go through these movements, seeing only colours and light. Everything exists like an Impressionistic painting - the spectacle of modernity comes as a blur presenting itself as it is, devoid of meaning. Everything is obfuscated. Everything is rejected. Where is the certainty? Where is the solidity that is supposed to be?

the burden of thought weighs so much over me sometimes i could possibly combust. it cant possibly be that me, I, am merely just as an intersection of chance between mind, body, soul, reality, dream, memory, love, friendship..every damn department of life.

And these multiple planes of vision...separate voices, is there a point where it might converge like the roots of some mathematical function? That school believes it to be a calculation...and i'm tired of that.

Vendredi soir aux Deux Pierrots

It is not proper for a girl to be so red and drinking beer!



Dancing the night away in true quebecois style!


Magali and me going siao.


Red is the new beige.


Mentos, the freshmaker!


Boys just wanna have fun.


Invasion of the japanese tourists!


With love from Montreal! XOXO

gems of truth from my insane best friends.

'Believe me, we learn much mor academically and about life, perversely digging our own graves than living one that does not challenge us.'

'Interaction with 95% of the world is meaningless.'

'Between sense and sensibility i hope i will always be able to see to appreciate sensibility and the abstract, intangible magical qualities in it that people cannot see...It's like being in ur own lit class while everybody's attending science.'

'there are angels and devils out there man! im just a neutral.'

alcohol makes you happy.......

All jolly and red now!


Men..after a few beers they become the cause of domestic abuse


Manu and me at the Savoy for an evening of Jazz and cocktails.


Beer, a good burger and hockey, a canadian must.


I know, i should take my alcohol like a man. but i'm red.


emilie, me and good ol' corona at her farewell


Beer, me and raph, the french taiwanese dude who lived in Singapore. he's mixed up.

home is where the heart is.

I miss home.

It seems like an obvious statement to make, but to be honest, i have been in denial about this ever since i came here. The last three months passed me by in decadence and i managed to slip by the pangs of homesickness quite unnoticed. The thrills of being in a foreign land, living for the moment and experiencing everything first hand has done a good job distracting me from my real pupose: to comtemplate what it means to be away from home.

I spoke to all these people from home yesterday. Chatted with Da Ming, Serny and my little brother. I also blew a hefty sum talking to Melissa in UK, called Vincent to wish him Happy Birthday, messaged Sani, emailed Joanne and in a spur i called most of them back in Singapore to say hello. Amidst the slurs of singaporean slang, i noticed a genuine tone of concern as they said they missed me. Pardon me for being mushy here, but i was moved. This cold heart of mine was actually touched as i realized, maybe i did make a small minute difference in these people's lives. These things mess with my mind, they remind me of my attachment and what i loved about home. The 3am suppers behind, Wednesday nights at Zouk, the depressing AS4 corridoor bumping into everyone rushing for class, the sunlight piercing through the trees on my skin......

I miss them too. I wish i didn't know better, but these people made a difference in my life more than i thought.

ps if you guys have any pictures of us from home, please send it to me! elizabeth.tan@mail.mcgill.ca

losing track of Time

The sun has been setting earlier these days, its barely 5pm here and it feels like 8pm already. Apparently, people in this part of the continent actually simultaneously synchronize their watches one hour behind when this happens and i find that so amazing. who decided that and how do they know about these things?? Either way this screws my sense of timing. I've never been very good at keeping to the dot but ever since i came here i must say that i lost track altogether.

It's been 3 months 15 days since i've been here, and 2 days since my paper was overdue. It's been 3 years apart, 11 years of true friendship and 2 hours since i last spoke to her. It's been 2 years together, 12 hours difference away and 2 bouquets of flowers (and 1 stalk). It's been 21 years, 9 months, 11 days alive.