From the Cavalier Daily:
“SPRING ELECTION RESULTS ANNOUNCED… Third-year students Charity Harrell and Emily Forrester, as well as second-year student Jonathan Lim, were named University Judiciary Committee representatives from the College.”
I’ve spent this entire weekend enjoying the return of my life + getting good revision time in for the onslaught of midterms this week. Life has been great. Classes are good. Tests will be ok. I’m pumped for spring break too. Just gotta keeeeeep working!
After the past few weeks of campaigning, the voting window is finally open. It’s been a really exciting yet tiring process, I’m glad I made the decision to do this. It’s a small succinct culmination of a big part of my experiences and memories here at Virginia. I sure hope I get the chance to be elected, but no matter what I’ve had one darn good time campaigning in a foreign country. I never imagined I’d even bother at first.
I burnt a big portion of my weekend getting this little video together, I feel like I have to get this on a post here!
Life resumes its regular course at the end of this week – more space for new things to do. Pumped.
So I haven’t really updated this place for nearly one and a half months. I feel bad for neglecting this commitment to write somewhat, but this Spring semester has taken the form of a delicious cake portion served to me that I have found a little too much to stomach, pressing a little more on the scarce and much-needed resource that is time, and energy. Everything has been brilliantly fun though. I went into this Spring not really with any mission to achieve something, but rather to take a stroll through this supermarket of a semester and discover along the way things that might give my days more memories and more meaning. So the past month has been a haphazard concoction of things I’ve been poking my nose into, and the lack of structure does leave me rather flustered at times, but I’ve definitely been more alive this semester thus far.
Classes – a liberal mess.
Classes are great, though I’m slightly stifled by my workload. This is my first semester attempting to take on a load of twenty credit-hours per week, and it’s been an insane rush compared to the Fall semester. I did not intend to structure it purposefully at first, but later I came to realize that I’m taking a course in almost every school here in the university: Development Policy in the School of Public Policy; Commercial Law in the Commerce School, Educational Psychology in the Education School, Neighborhood Planning in the Architecture School, and Russian / Astronomy / Military Science of course, in my home territory of the College of Arts and Sciences. Sometimes I find myself flailing around mentally, craving some structure out of the seemingly major-less timetable that I have this semester. I don’t think anyone can look at my schedule and deduce that I’m a PPL major at all. Above all, its rather fun actually, and uncomfortably mind-stretching – just what I like. I’ll see how this turns out as the semester unfolds.
Acting – in Russian?
Two weeks ago, I trudged across to the third floor of Newcomb Hall, walking down the corridor and into a classroom, with a piece of paper in one hand and a lot of nervousness inside. On that piece of paper were two lines in Russian, lines from Anton Chekhov’s short play The Wedding. It’s a pretty short play; the script only runs for less than ten pages, and I figure the entire play lasts no more than an hour. My Russian 101 teaching assistant decided to direct and stage the above-mentioned play later this semester, and she was holding auditions to cast the roles. So down the corridor in Newcomb lay the audition and I walked into it, a little feverishly as a meager first-year student of Russian. I noticed there were fourth-year Russian students trying out too, and that was hell intimidating.
I initially planned to try for the role of Dimba – he is this Greek confectioner who has a few lines within the play, substantial enough for me to improve my Russian but yet not way beyond my primitive Russian-speaking ability. Trying for Dimba was a plus-point for me as well – since Dimba is a Greek foreigner in the Russian play, he gets to speak in Russian with virtually any funny-sounding accent in order to accentuate his foreignness. I have no idea if bits and pieces of my Singaporean accent leak into my Russian, but I sure know I don’t sound anything close to an average Muscovite – I think my professor once commented that the way I spoke sounded like chopping onions on a wooden board (probably because of the way Mandarin Chinese has influenced the way we speak). So acting as Dimba the foreigner gave me a perfect excuse to stray from the conventions of the Moscow Standard (if there ever is or was one, I suppose there should be) and go on my own accent tangent.
So I acted out a line from Dimba. I was acting like a staggering drunk, comparing the cultures of Greece and Russia and how the people in between are swimming in this funny sea, and how the Greeks act this way but the Russians act yet in another fashion, ending off the line with a nice drunken, foreign-and-oddly-sounding stupor. I did I made the cut.
Unfortunately my TA bumped me up to a 21-liner character, so I don’t get to be Dimba. I am now Yats, the Soviet telegraphist who speaks at constant intervals all throughout the play, giving me (1) too many lines to memorize, with my first-year capability and (2) since I’m now a Soviet Russian I think I’d best adhere to the Moscow Standard. Sigh. But well I did get bumped up and that probably meant a good thing so I’ll stick with this and go for rehearsals every week until the actual performance comes! It should be exciting.
Spring – gloomy beauty
I don’t really like how the Spring semester starts. We begin the academic term in the cold, where I find it increasingly difficult to climb out of bed when the alarm clock sounds off in the morning. Climbing out of bed usually never happens when I open my eyes and realize that the sun hasn’t risen and it’s way too many degrees below zero celsius. One weird thing’s for sure, there has barely been any snow this year, and the temperature has been fluctuating strangely, sending hordes of unstable-scheduled students into bouts of flu and sickness.
Elections.
It was pretty much a last-minute decision amidst many worries and concerns that I decided to run for office this election season, for Judiciary Representative from the College of Arts and Sciences. I think the biggest impediment was that I didn’t know how campaigning was done here, and I don’t know how it was to pull off an American campaign, being the two-year international newbie that I am. But eventually I decided to, and I’m having a really good (albeit fierce and rough) time plodding around getting petitions, chalking on floors, making posters, attending endorsement interviews, preparing videos, hoping and crossing fingers for votes.
I don’t think many Virginia students read my blog, but if you’re a fellow Wahoo reading this, I hope to have your support!
It’s gone one full circle. At some point I thought I would never be campaigning ever again after leaving Raffles, but this has all come back to me and it’s quite nostalgic. It’s been a hectic election season so far and I look forward to the week where the voting window arrives, but it’s not common to feel alive and kicking every single day you wake up. And I kinda like it.
So that, in short (considering how long overdue most of my recounts are), was the past month. I’m looking forward to more, way more!
Ever since I began college, crossing over to the new years have been rather strange. There’s less of a sense of finality to the end, because we’re now all caught in a temporary slow-paced moment between two semesters sandwiching this winter break. Back then, the school year started in January and ended in November, so every year was distinct in itself, and our lives were more or less carved around solid markings of yearly spaces. Right now, even before the new year makes it entrance, we’ve already seen ahead, made too many expectations, set too many standards. It’s not a bad thing definitely, but suddenly the new year feels a little less important.
How was 2011? This is the first year I’ve spent nearly all of it away from home, and exploring new places. As a result, my learnings and my experiences have been in an ever-changing flux. 2011 has been a confusing mix of lessons, from which I had to closely select and draw from. Some good, some bad, but life never really hands you a basket of all things perfect anyway. I’ve gotten more whole, stronger, not sure if I’m happier or more contented, but that doesn’t matter; it doesn’t need to matter now. I just want to do more, take more steps. See, hear, touch, taste, smell, feel more. Because this is the time for it, and every single year will be the perfect time for it until time stops and I take a step down to rest.
So dear 2012, this is what I wish for:
The deeper end of the pool.
Wider skies, but less defined paths.
A stronger back, and tougher legs.
Sturdy shoes that won’t wear out.
A stronger, more accepting, and more cheerful heart.
The final ten minutes are here, I shall enjoy the moment. Happy new year everyone!
Yet another plane ride, this time from Las Vegas to New York City. We had a timely two-hour delay because of a huge rainstorm happening in New York, which allowed me to conveniently pass out on a seat at the airport, to work off a bout of fatigue.
Two days ago, I spent a big part of Christmas exploring around in the Grand Canyon. Honestly it didn’t feel physically like Christmas because I wasn’t exposed to much of the joyous atmosphere this year, but it was quite awesome just to stand on the edge of seemingly infinite layers of red rock and feel like you’ve conquered the world just by hiking all the way to a little rocky hill top that allows you to see the vast bottomless valley of canyon all around you. Some pictures are in tow:
Aside from that, there’s something funny about Vegas. It’s positioned itself nicely as a sin city within which you can contain all your escapades of debauchery and forget all of the crap once you leave it. It’s also a little capitalist haven (or nightmare, depends on how you see it) because of how much it can potentially satiate your senses and hopes constantly and unendingly, using lights, food, smoke, gambling, games, roller coaster rides, sex, luxury, money, cars, sex, money, sex, money, sex, money. People put their money in, experience all that they can get, and they put in more again just to get that kick in.
Few more days of traveling around America and it’s back to Virginia again, for a good start to a new term. The past semester has been pretty steady and I couldn’t have asked for a better time. Now that I’m halfway through college (goodness I don’t even believe how much time has flown by), picturing myself graduating has become much clearer, and it’s a pretty exciting thought but yet I don’t want it to arrive just yet.
“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” - D. H. Lawrence
My third semester just drew to a comfortable close. I submitted my final history paper a little past noon on Friday, and at that moment I realized I haven’t felt free and un-busy for quite some time now. Right now I’m sitting by an airplane gate in the Charlottesville airport and awaiting my flight to Los Angeles.
Sitting in an airport a couple of minutes away from a plane flight makes things somewhat poignant; You’re leaving, you’re leaving once again. It makes me think back about the rush of time that has disappeared – one semester just flew past, I still remember taking a cab ride to university grounds and onto McCormick Road towards the ending days of the dusty summer, ready to pounce on the new Fall semester, grab it by the horns and deal it the best hand of cards I can possibly get. Now, in the middle of December, it has ended. It’s been my most academically intense semester in college so far, and it can only get more challenging.
I thoroughly enjoyed my classes. Moving on from completing most of my mandatory subject requirements in the first year to the more meaningful classes related to my scheme of learning, I can’t ask for more. This semester I engaged in my PPL major bootcamp course where every class was an intense 1-hour debate over contemporary ethics, political philosophy and public affairs issues; I studied how religion and politics meshed in with each other and how this produces various kinds of disputes over what is right, what is the sole truth, and how strong human nature can actually be; I studied the influence and psyche of imperialism, not just on the level of international relations but also on the daily level – how citizens and colonized people live and breathe its era and ethos; I studied social psychology, and had a really interesting insight into how the presence of other people influence individuals to think and act in different ways; I took my introductory course in Russian, culminating in a twenty-minute Russian performance and a comfortable ability to read and write; I took a military science course which grounded me in basic Army leadership, tactics and strategy. It’s been a good time.
What was most important about this semester, was conversations. Conversations with all kinds of people from all kinds of places, and conversations within oneself. Sometimes conclusions and great ideas are consolidated through conversations. Next semester I should take them to higher levels. I can’t rest on the thought that I still have so long to go in college – I’m now already halfway through college, and if the first half has sped by this fast, the other half will soon end, probably quicker than I would expect. At the end of the day, it’s knowing that I still don’t know much – and I still don’t really know a darn thing – about life that makes me feel that every day spent here and every day spent living is a sure step towards somewhere. I want to keep staying uncomfortable, keep staying unseated.
It’s time to board soon! Next stop: Los Angeles, CA.
I was plowing through my social psychology notes and I stumbled upon (literally, though I’m guilty of the online method too) this line: “Types of pro-social behavior differ by gender. Men tend to favor dramatic and heroic acts, whereas women tend to favor steady, long-term helping relationships.” I was initially skeptical of such a statement, but then I realized gradually some part of me really resonates with it. Half our lives are spent trying to emulate moments of swag, class, and just general badass-ness. I’m entirely guilty of imagining moments like walking away from huge explosions.
So rather irrationally, I took a self-imposed study break and went scouring through Google (really wasn’t that hard) for images. I hereby title this small photo collection,
And finally, this has the most class and swag; my undisputed favorite.
Now, time to move on from delusions of grandeur and get back to work.
The past three days in New York City were a much-needed breath of fresh air (though literally, not quite) away from the Charlottesville suburbs. I took a one-day trip to the city last year in December, and it was too painfully short to the point that I couldn’t explore past the main tourist areas. This time, my Thanksgiving trip took me around the more quaint areas of Manhattan.
I like cities. People always say that cities are dirty, grimy and its citizens are packed in so tightly that the overcrowding desensitizes them and makes them all numb to the sights and senses of life. But I don’t think so. There’s something special about the hectic rush that begins even before you awake in murky bouts of initial consciousness as you slowly drift awake from sleep. A couple of my friends are college students in the city, and I’m trying to imagine the life of a finance/business student studying in the depths of Manhattan. It probably feels awesome to be studying in your dorm with the window propped open, such that you can hear the sounds of cars and random slices of street life; it probably feels that you’re this close to the life you want to live, in this city of ambition, and the education before you right now is the key to that life. When you’re that close to something such that you live in its reality, it must feel pretty exciting.
On the other hand, the vast suburbs and greenery are perfect for a philosophy and political science student like me. Although sometimes this sleepy little town gets a little stifling from its unchanging beauty and quiet peacefulness, I can’t quite imagine reading a thick philosophical text by a city street. The physical environment of a living place suits certain kinds of endeavors and fields of study, I guess.
Will let the photos do the talking from here:
As November speeds to an end, and the December days lurk round the corner, the final exam season now makes its swinging entrance. It’ll be three weeks of good academic fun before the next travel adventure comes round! Now that I’ve finished my cup of hot chocolate it’s time to stop writing.
A few hours ago I opened up my creaky closet door, and dug my arm into the top shelf to reach for my black leather duffel bag. It’s a pretty humble bag that doesn’t draw much attention, with traditional compartments that every duffel bag has. Some part of it has been worn out; I think one of its bottom plastic stand tips was wrestled off forcibly in one of my small scuffles on an airplane. Ever since I bought it nearly a year ago, its use has been synonymous with travel and adventure. This bag goes with me everywhere out of town, in airplane overhead compartments, or carried by one hand as I scurry across new and unfamiliar city streets. If it has eyes and a brain, it probably has as much travel memories as I have collected over the course of the past year. Now, after almost an entire semester, I am taking the bag out of town again.
I have come to enjoy traveling a lot, and I feel I haven’t done enough. Every now and then I experience tiny reprieves long enough to admit a good trip out of town. Traveling with good friends is always an awesome experience; traveling alone and exploring a foreign place in solitude, on the other hand, brings a kind of self-discovery that could lead to two opposite outcomes: utter annoyance or fresh liberation. The last time I took a solitary adventure, it was through the streets of Saint Petersburg in Russia. I wanted to take some pictures of various monuments for a final paper I was writing, and I spent an entire afternoon wandering through the city. Until now I still remember my mental snapshots very clearly, and I miss it dearly.
Last year, I spent Thanksgiving in America with an American family, and had a traditional dinner where I ate myself into a nice sleepy coma. Come this Wednesday I’ll be taking a train to New York City; I can’t wait. I’ve always been a city boy, and probably always will be, as much as I enjoy the beautiful Virginian suburbs. The momentum and energy in the city is irreplaceable.
In the meantime, school has lost its tense atmosphere this week, and life now slows to a gentle crawl as people are packing up, leaving their books behind to return to their families. Too much routine, too much routine, but not that bad of a routine.
I used to draw very frequently, probably a couple of times a day at some point. It was enjoyable to just whip out a sheet of fresh blank paper, pick up a pencil or a marker, and just transfer mental images to pictures on paper in solvent-smelling black ink. Since young, I seemed to be attracted to color pencils, markers, crayons, and blank pieces of paper (I used to hate squared or lined sheets). I don’t draw so frequently nowadays, but every now and then it makes small study breaks worthwhile, and gives me a secure sense that I’m not losing touch of this ability that I’ve put in so many years to hone.
On this uneventful Friday night I rummaged through my drawers and found my old set of four markers with nibs of varying thickness. I figured this blog could do with a logo, perhaps a faded vintage one that could convey a feel of recounting experiences, and documenting journeys. So I started on it, and in about half an hour it was done.
And here is the finished product on paper, along with the four markers I interchangeably used.
Eventually I scanned it in, did a slight bit of photoshopping, and now here’s the logo at the top of this blog. I get lazy after a while about my blog design and I tend to let it stagnate, so I figure it will stay there for quite some time. Other than that, it’s a really monotonous, homework-less friday evening, just a few days before Thanksgiving, where the cold winds are sharp, and hot chocolate can never get any tastier than this. I gotta find more things to do.
A scene from Chekhov’s ‘The Wedding’ that I took off the internet. The eventual play I’ll be in will probably be around a dinner table, just like this.
I snapped this picture right outside my dorm. It rained overnight but the temperature dropped slightly past zero so the rain froze as they dripped all over trees and various objects. Very, very beautiful. And I have never seen a sight like this before in my life, so it definitely was a winner moment in my early days of Spring this semester. The sky was gloomy but I sure was quite appeased!
All we’ve got is mere mild snow. I trust my friends in the UK, and my counterparts up north the East Coast are feeling very indignant about (perhaps) how lucky I am to have avoided consistent blizzards. 
My previously pristine brown boots now destroyed by the canyon dust. But it’s all good, I got a nice shoeshine back at the hotel later that evening!
I stumbled upon a little art display by the corner of a street. Thousands of paper cups hung on lines of string, decorated with merely simple ink markers but producing such an exciting collage of city life. I should start something like this in my dorm room!
Inside the New York Grand Central station, where so many movie scenes are filmed. It somehow feels odd to be finally standing in a place that initially, only existed onscreen for a big part of your childhood life.
At the edge of Central Park in midtown Manhattan. The water is so still, it makes a really good snapshot.
Nothing like a typical American breakfast to pump us up after an intense bout of Black Friday shopping. I got up wearily at four in the morning, and hit the stores by five. We shopped away to our hearts’ content in a gigantic consumerist frenzy until fatigue and hunger at 10:30AM brought us to Andrew’s Coffee Shop in the middle of Herald’s Square, somewhere along 34th Street. 