Have you all noticed how our beloved president always keep his cool during the National Day Parades each year? Yeah he's probably the coolest guy alive, he's exempted from singing the national anthem. Everyone else sings, so why does he keep his mouth closed during the national anthem segment? The answer is simple people, he sings with his heart, and not his mouth. His loyalty and patriotism towards Singapore is unwavering and insurmountable, a true blue Singaporean.

To be able to sing with your heart and not your mouth is by no means easy, a skill that can only be flawlessly executed by our dear president. His innate talent is so unique that he wonders why everyone else has to open his mouth, while he doesn't. At first glance, it might seem as though he's acting like a prima donna and all, the main VIP of the parade and WTF, he doesn't sing the national anthem. One might be forgiven into thinking that he probably doesn't even know how to sing it. Boy, how wrong you guys are. You know the national anthem that you heard on TV during that segment? It wasn't actually a recorded version, it was actually a "live" version, and came from none other than the man himself. The national anthem resonated from within him with such enthusiasm and passion that the entire Marina Bay was drowned in his voice, the voice that was present in his heart, the voice that never emerged from his mouth. Respect.

I realised that sometimes, it really doesn't take much to make a girl think you're a freak, to make her think you're a weirdo, and ultimately, to scare her off. Yeah I did all that in a minute, here's what happened.

While I way on the bus home from Junction 8 after watching Transformers and thinking about Megan Fox at the same time, some girl from some school came and sat beside me even though the bus was like half-empty. All of a sudden, while I was still deep in thoughts, she turned over to me and asked,

"Hey, what's your name?"

I was a bit surprised, and pissed off at the same time that she derailed my train of thought, aka the Megan Fox Express. She was rather cute, but I was like "WTFWTFWTF", so I turned over to her and replied,

"I am Optimus Prime."

She stared at me as though I was a retard, then left her seat and sat somewhere else. I win. Moral of the story: Don't interrupt me when I'm thinking about stuff.

Common tests are shit. Let's see what my projected results are:

Econs: S
Chem: U
GP: C
Bio: C
Maths: E

That's 2 asses short of being a success, damn I'm never gonna fulfill my lifelong ambition at the rate I'm going.

I'm back, like after nearly a month. A big apology to all my avid readers out there, but yours truly was simply too busy with life to bother about this empty toiletbowl, hence this will be a rather short post. Stuff like studying. Studies are actually one of the most intriguing aspects of my life, I mean, how often have you seen teachers giving comments like "Good job Ernest, that's a very large improvement! Keep it up!" or "Way to go, good improvement!" when I only scored 19.5/40 for a test. Maybe that's what makes me special, because when others attain the same score, the comments say "You need to improve" instead.

Just recently on Thursday, we had to submit our writeup for our 3 best achievements in RJC, which I didn't know about until the day before. Talk about being shameless, but in all seriousness, I never realised that I was that perfect a person until I started to do my writeup. Here are 2 out of the 3 best achievements, with the last one omitted due to, well, being too screwed up.

CIP (Hospice Care Association)

Ernest was a dedicated member in a class-based CIP last year, held in collaboration with the Hospice Care Association. In this programme, Ernest went down to homes of people stricken with terminal illnesses, and together with a couple of his peers, helped to clean up the houses of these unfortunate people regularly. In doing so, he has shown the soft and caring side within him, and exudes compassion with every breath as he is a very active volunteer despite it being optional. He has also shown that great responsibility by turning up in all the sessions he has signed up for, without failing to turn up for any. This CIP was organized entirely on the class’ accord, and every single member of the class is receptive to this meaningful activity since it involves helping terminally-ill patients by doing whatever possible to improve their lives. At the end of each session, faint smiles of joy could be seen on the faces of the patients, which lights up the flame of compassion within him and pushes him to improve on every subsequent visit. Selflessness is an understatement to descrive Ernest, because he even sacrifices time during his holidays to attend the sessions, because he knows that the well-being of the patients is of utmost importance, even at his own expense. Though this programme has ceased with effect from the start of 2007, which is of much disappointment to Ernest since he finds pride and joy in engaging in this programme, but nevertheless, he has gained maturity from the processes, by understanding that the lives of some are not beds of roses, and through coming into close contact with these people, he has learnt to value life even more than before and will live life to its fullest.


CIP (Care to Dance)

In the June holidays last year, Ernest signed up for CIP entitled “Care To Dance”, which was jointly organized by the YMCA and Lindy Hop Ensemble, a local dance organization. In this programme, volunteers are first required to learn dances thought by the dance instructors from the Lindy Hop Ensemble, and then proceed to pass on these dance moves to the less fortunate children. By participating in this programme, he has shown that he is multitalented, excelling even in dance, something which he has never taken part in before, and he also possesses boundless levels of patience, tender-loving care, and determination, as his charge was able to master the dance moves in a very short amount of time. Ernest also possesses great interpersonal relational skills, because he managed to communicate extremely well with his charge, who is 10 years younger, as compared to the other volunteers in the programme. This programme was well-received by Ernest’s peers, who participated amidst much relentless persuasions, and none of them have regretted their decisions at the end of the day. Through this, it shows that Ernest is very compassionate, a trait rarely seen in teenagers these days and by persuading his fellow peers to take part in this programme, he has allowed his friends to bask in the joy of helping others, and this large radius of compassion is very much impossible to ignore. Ernest has reached unprecedented levels of maturity after taking part in this programme, and has shown qualities of being a fatherly-figure, a role model for everyone of his age or older.




And yes, I submitted it to my CT, every single word of it.

My first contact with vulgarities came when I was just a tiny kid in primary school. The vulgarities at that time, also known as "bad words", took on a totally new meaning as compared to the vulgarities of today, the ones that cool people like you use on people like me. Anything out of the norm then could be considered a "bad word", such as "cockroach", "shit", "bastard", and even "watermelon". Yea "watermelon". That was the first "bad word" I ever learnt in my life, if it could even be considered one. I remember vividly the name of the guy who polluted my mind right from day one of my primary school days, an Indian boy named Nicholas Lim (real name was not used to protect his identity). Here's what happened:

Me: "Why the teacher so long haben come yet?"
The teacher steps into class right at this time.
Him: "Dere the watermelon come orleady."
Someone else: "Or hor! Teacher, he call you watermelon!"

No prizes for guessing what happened next. His butt and his face looked resembled each other at the end of the day. Though she did indeed look like one, I didn't think she needed the reminders.

Of course, "bad words" became more and more widely used, but still deemed unacceptable in primary schools, so you get assholes who go around trying to sabo others into saying out these "bad words" out loud.

Boy: "Eh, bus 'first', bus 'second', then bus what?"
Me: "Bus 'third'!"
Boy: "Or hor! Say bad word! I go tell teacher."

I ggxx-ed after that. However, this never happened more than once or twice, because the primary school students became more streetwise, and started to come up with ways to get pass this hurdle.

Boy: "Eh, bus 'first', bus 'second', then bus what?"
Me: "Example only ah, example ah, bus 'third'."
Boy: "!!!" (runs away crying)

Great success! Once bitten, twice shy. Never was I going to fall for the same trap set by these idiots again. The words "example only ah" was so powerful, the people who used them gained utmost respect from their other peers. In fact, it proved as a talisman to ward off the teachers, because they could never be able to catch you saying vulgarities intentionally, especially when I always manage to out-talk them.

Teacher: "Eh Ernest why you say bad word!"
Me: "No it's example only! I just telling him what it means, but I never scold anyone. Example only!"
Teacher: "Ok then"

But then, everyone started using those three magic words so much, that the effects wore off soon enough. To hell with "example only ah", we now go for the real thing, which brings us to secondary school days.

RI, the land of vulgarities, it was here that the true purpose of the English Language was fully realised, and it was where we fully understood the Hokkien, Cantonese and Teochew cultures as well. Vulgarities were so rampant, you could hardly catch a sentence with a single sense of decency in it.

*Disclaimer* Since the blog should reflect what the owner of the blog is like, all vulgarites below are censored, since the owner is also vulgarity-free.

Anonymous: "Eh he damn bas**** leh, damn fuc*** you know, so much fuc**** sh** lot of homework. Fu** it, I'm not going to fuc**** doing it. Fuc*. KNN."

So basically, you hear so much of the same words everyday, your vocabulary has essentially been reduced to only less than 10 words, probably more if you had some PRC scholars in your class who taught you the legendary 36 vulgarities from dunno some sect in China.

In RJ, the number of vulgarities uttered by both guys and girls declined sharply unsurprisingly. For once, you're sucked back into civilisation once again, and actually hear more than 5 decent words in a row. Why is that? No one wants to turn off members of the other gender, that's why. That was only during J1 though, because no one gives a shit these days anymore, it's not worth it, heh, but that doesn't mean I'm doing it though :).

I hope you guys have seen this drink before, in like RJC or RI or something. If you hadn't, fret not, because it sucks bad. During lunch at my alma mater 2 weeks ago, I started wondering, how on earth do you pronounce "Minute Maid", since that was the only drink that was available in the vending machines because the other drinks cannot be freaking vended as they are stuck inside. So, here's some food for thought, is it "My-nute Maid", or "Mee-nit Maid"?

Jingwen and I conducted a survey in class, and the general consensus was that it was pronounced "Mee-nit Maid", but, if that's the case, what does it mean then?"

For those of you whose English sucks harder than mine, here's some information regarding the definitions of both "My-nute" and "Mee-nit", from http://www.dictionary .com, which is an online dictionary like the URL suggests.

"My-nute"
1. extremely small, as in size, amount, extent, or degree: minute differences.
2. of minor importance; insignificant; trifling.
3. attentive to or concerned with even the smallest details: a minute examination.

"Mee-nit"
1. A unit of time equal to one sixtieth of an hour, or 60 seconds.
2. A unit of angular measurement equal to one sixtieth of a degree, or 60 seconds. Also called minute of arc.
3. A measure of the distance one can cover in a minute: lives ten minutes from school.
4. A short interval of time; moment. See Synonyms at moment.
5. A specific point in time: Stop that this minute!
6. A note or summary covering points to be remembered; a memorandum.
7. minutes An official record of the proceedings of a meeting.

From the above definitions, the only possible meanings of "Minute Maid" based on how they are pronounced are:

"My-nute Maid"
1. An extremely small maid.
2. A maid of minor importance or an insignificant maid
3. An attentive or concerned maid.

"Mee-nit Maid"
4. wtf?
5. wtf?
6. wtf?
7. A maid that records the proceedings of a meeting (???)

Based on this, we can conclude that the correct way to pronounce "Minute Maid" is indeed "My-nute Maid", because it definitely makes more sense. Heck, at least Jia Hua can get turned on by a "My-nute Maid" as opposed to a "Mee-nit Maid", because he likes all small girls. So, let's start calling it "My-nute Maid" now, and make it happen.

Suffering from long periods of insomnia lately. According to the wise sages, sheep counting is the way to go, should we ever suffer from the inability to sleep. But, that I say, is bloody bullsheep. I never really knew how to count sheeps correctly, but at least I tried, and I have come up with three of the most effective ways to count sheeps.

Method 1: I pictured a beautiful horizon in the background, with sheeps in the foreground. The first time a sheep jumped over the fence, I shouted out "1 sheep!", then followed by "2 sheeps!", "3 sheeps!" etc. This never worked, because my mum would just get out of bed the moment I reached my fifth sheep, and own my ass for waking her up in the middle of the night.

Method 2: Instead of shouting out the number of sheeps loudly, I just counted them out silently in my mind. "1 sheep, 2nd sheep, 3rd sheep, 4th sheep, ..., 626th sheep, 627th sheep, 628th sheep, ..." I stopped at the 15783rd sheep, because it was time to get out of bed, change up and get ready to go to school.

Method 3: Forget the nicely decorated fences. If the "soft" method doesn't work, go for the "hard" method. Use rings of fire instead of damn fences, just like what they do to elephants in the circus, by making them jump through it. The thought of roast sheep might get your brain severely drained. I have yet to prove if this does indeed work, because I always end up with nightmares.

Sheep counting doesn't work, period. At least not based on my methods.