Profile I am the boy-next-door who goes almost everywhere in a tee-shirt, jeans, and flip flops; the young and promising (just not in conventional ways) gentleman whom others stereotype as a bummer, a slacker, a buay-tak-che (cannot study); and someone who portrays the image of a beng without the dyed hair and the earholes. I am still the joker who occasionally pushes when the sign says pull; the sceptical miscief who touches anything that is labelled "wet paint", only to exclaim "the paint is wet, la!"; and the animal lover who picks up snails along pavements and puts them on the grass so that they will not be stepped on by people who are really bat-jiu-ta-stamp. I am the ex-full-time national serviceman in the republic of singapore air force, the ex-foh manager, ex-barista, ex-enroller; the present undergraduate and teacher; and the aspiring senior prisons officer. I am the guy you walked past once, but was just another face in the crowd. Archives November 2008 December 2008 April 2009 Credits skin by: Jane |
Thursday, April 09, 2009 @ 00:44
The Who We Are Series I am the baby who was born at Mount Elizabeth Hospital on the thirty-first day of March, nineteen eighty seven at sixteen forty-nine hours. I am the toddler my padiatrician said would one day become a President's scholar. I am still a scholar; just not a President's scholar but a Father-Mother Scholar. I am the boy who ran into a pillar at the void deck of a HDB block because I was enjoying my game of chase too much. I suffered a ba-lu-ku (bump) on my forehead for the next few days, only to have my grandmother ask me in what a fusion of hokkien and english if I bat-jiu-ta-stamp (have a stamp over my eyes). Very consoling indeed. I am the athletic teenager who was knocked down while playing basketball in school and suffered yet another ba-lu-ku and subsequently, a concussion. When I woke up the next day, I could not remember how I got home or why I could not remember anything, only to be rushed to hospital where a smart-ass young doctor told me I was having post-concussion amnesia. In layman's terms, that simply meant I was having a memory loss. As if I did not know that already. I was the most frequent visitor to my secondary school discipline master's office, where he combed my hair until it looked like a curry-pok, where he pointed out all my flaws until I felt I was a barbie doll with loads of polka dots and where he gave me I-can't-remember-how-many three-hour one-to-one no-toilet sessions about Confusian ethics and moral values. Now, I thank him for building me into a morally upright young man and for helping me to have a stronger bladder. It was me, all of it, walking past an injured pigeon one day before the GCE 'O' Level Chemistry practical paper and bringing it to the SPCA instead of studying. It was me who went bowling, pooling, and arcad-ing instead of studying for the History Elective paper the next day. It was the same me who entered Dunman High School with 261 points in the Primary School Leaving Examinations and leaving with a L1R5 of 15 points, a result my Chemistry teacher termed as "severe value deduction". I was the flower heart who had crushes on you, you, you, you, you, and you. And oh, I think I had a crush on you once before too. Yes, you. I was the casanova who had eleven girlfriends in four years of secondary school, just enough to form a soccer team with myself as the coach, assistant coach and ball-picker all rolled into one. I am the one who had the shortest relationship lasting three days, and the longest lasting one year and seven months. I am the graduate of Catholic Junior College who left with an official record of being absent from school 23 times and being late 20 times in one year and eight months, not to mention the unrecorded times. I am the same ex-student who still owes the discipline master nine days of detention even though I have already graduated. I am the examination candidate who sat for the GCE 'A' Level Literature paper without having read any of the six books in full but rather read their summaries online the night before. I am the same candidate who attempted in the same examination a context question on a book which the college had never taught and I had never heard or read in my life but scored a C grade. My Literature teacher called this an injustice. I think of it as risk-taking, a key trait to being a successful entrepreneur. I am the child of God who stopped going to church immediately after confirmation yet prays every night. My prayers are particularly long the nights before major tests and examinations, and when I desperately need something done. I am the boy-next-door who goes almost everywhere in a tee-shirt, jeans, and flip flops; the young and promising (just not in conventional ways) gentleman whom others stereotype as a bummer, a slacker, a buay-tak-che (cannot study); and someone who portrays the image of a beng without the dyed hair and the earholes. I am still the joker who occasionally pushes when the sign says 'pull', the sceptical miscief who touches anything that is labelled "wet paint", only to exclaim "the paint is wet, la!" and the animal lover who picks up snails along pavements and puts them on the grass so that they will not be stepped on by people who are really bat-jiu-ta-stamp. I am the young man you walked past once, but was just another face in the crowd. Yeah, this is me. Who are you? |