(Note: the posts may have been condensed to keep this post below a certain length, but it does not change the text. The quotes are in grey.)
From Ernest's blog:
A list of irritating things to do when you're in a lift...
1) CRACK open your briefcase or handbag, peer Inside and ask "Got enough air in there?"
2) STAND silent and motionless in the corner facing the wall without getting off.
3) WHEN arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the doors open, then act as if you're embarrassed when they open themselves.
4) GREET everyone with a warm handshake and ask him or her to call you Admiral.
5) MEOW occasionally.
6) STARE At another passenger for a while. Then announce in horror: "You're one of THEM" - and back away slowly
7) SAY -DING at each floor.
8) SAY "I wonder what all these do?" And push all the red buttons.
9) MAKE explosion noises when anyone presses a button.
10) STARE, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce: "I have new socks on."
11) WHEN the elevator is silent, look around and ask: "Is that your beeper?"
12) TRY to make personal calls on the emergency phone.
13) DRAW a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers: "This is my personal space."
14) WHEN there's only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder, then pretend it wasn't you.
15) PUSH the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.
16) ASK if you can push the button for other people but push the wrong ones.
17) HOLD the doors open and say you're waiting for your friend. After a while, let the doors close and say "Hi Greg, How's your day been?"
18) DROP a pen and wail until someone reaches to help pick it up, then scream: "That's mine!"
19) BRING a camera and take pictures of everyone in the lift.
20) PRETEND you're a flight attendant and review emergency procedures and exits with the Passengers.
21) SWAT at flies that don't exist.
22) CALL out "Group hug" then enforce it.
2) STAND silent and motionless in the corner facing the wall without getting off.
3) WHEN arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the doors open, then act as if you're embarrassed when they open themselves.
4) GREET everyone with a warm handshake and ask him or her to call you Admiral.
5) MEOW occasionally.
6) STARE At another passenger for a while. Then announce in horror: "You're one of THEM" - and back away slowly
7) SAY -DING at each floor.
8) SAY "I wonder what all these do?" And push all the red buttons.
9) MAKE explosion noises when anyone presses a button.
10) STARE, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce: "I have new socks on."
11) WHEN the elevator is silent, look around and ask: "Is that your beeper?"
12) TRY to make personal calls on the emergency phone.
13) DRAW a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers: "This is my personal space."
14) WHEN there's only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder, then pretend it wasn't you.
15) PUSH the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.
16) ASK if you can push the button for other people but push the wrong ones.
17) HOLD the doors open and say you're waiting for your friend. After a while, let the doors close and say "Hi Greg, How's your day been?"
18) DROP a pen and wail until someone reaches to help pick it up, then scream: "That's mine!"
19) BRING a camera and take pictures of everyone in the lift.
20) PRETEND you're a flight attendant and review emergency procedures and exits with the Passengers.
21) SWAT at flies that don't exist.
22) CALL out "Group hug" then enforce it.
From Bryant's Blog:
"Ironically, you lose the one largest thing you're holding on to. The irony gods must be rolling on the floor."
Again, from Bryant's Blog:
"This, nowadays, is how a typical conversation goes between me and my mom. Events, by the way, while potentially fictionalised, are completely not exaggerated.
Me: Mom, I gotta be at school tomorrow at 8 in the morning.
Mom: Why?
Me: Mel's having IS, and she wants to get in some combat practice before her consult.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because the madams would expect her combat routine to be in top form, right? And so therefore I should take the responsibility to be in top form too.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because her A-level TSD grade is in my hands, and I'm not going to let her down.
Mom: Why?
Me: ... Because she picked me as her IS partner, since I've got a fencing background, and we have the same skillset.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because she needed a partner, otherwise she wouldn't have anybody else to work with, except Sam, who is more of a dancer than a fighter, and even though she wanted to work with him really badly, his style was slightly too lyrical, and so she picked me, since I was a fellow fencer with a combat background, and a new J1 with lots of time to spare, and I know it's called Individual Skill, and I know what you're thinking, but that's just not the way that IS works, and --
*before Mom can say anything*
Me: -- I also have Animal Farm rehearsal from 11 to 3 after that.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because we're practicing for Vienna.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because we don't want to look like an amateur theatre company in front of other youth theatre companies all over the world.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because Mrs Creffield's standards are high, and she doesn't want us to look stupid either --
*before Mom can say anything again*
Me: -- and there's also a devised performance I have to watch tonight, after Animal Farm.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because the madams want to expose us to all different kinds of theatre conventions, to get a feel of what we want to do for our own ISes.
Mom: Why?
Me: Because IS makes up 15% of our TSD A-level grade, and if we don't do it properly, we lose that 15%. So we're watching this play tonight, which starts at 7.30, so we're just going to bum around Holland V until the thing starts, so no, I'm not coming home in between to shower and change, I'm going to bring a change of clothes there and --
Mom: Are you coming home for dinner?
Me: *momentarily taken aback* Huh? Uh, no.
Mom: Why?
At this point, well, I usually sidle off to find a firearm so I can messily blow my brains out of my head for zombies to find and eat, which saves them the trouble of having to crack my skull open, which wouldn't be hard because the inane conversation with Mom has damn near withered it away to nothing. Thing is, with Singapore's strict gun control laws, I never seem to have any luck finding them, so my brains remain intact and un-zombie-consumed.
But the thing is that I can never leave the house without being interrogated first. I swear, if there were a zombie apocalypse, and they needed my expertise to combat the oncoming horde, with Damien, Jerry, Jin, Sam, and all my fellow undead-hunters, Mom would rather doom the whole of mankind to their fate of having their brains eaten than let me go out of the house for five minutes, so I can oversee the evacuation of citizens out of the Central Business District, and hold off the marauding undead swarms with shotgun, flamethrower and chainsaw."
From Ren Yuan's Blog:
"People are changing too fast. Not on the inside, but outside. The sudden freedom from strict rules of secondary school seemed to have engulfed the meaning of dressing and behaving like a normal human individual of society in some minds."
Also from Ren Yuan's Blog:
Then...
"The cheque for July's here, and 60% of it is going to the iPhone fund. Yay!"
Now...
"Due to the overwhelming demand for the iPhone 3GS, all available stocks are sold out.
We expect new stocks in October 2009. Please check this website for updates. We appreciate your understanding and support.
Well, screw you, Singtel Team. You have to get limited stocks and sell out the phones to make them look popular. 12 days before my contract ends. And then take a whole month to replenish stocks?"
So, how's that iPhone fund now?
From Zexun's Blog:
The classic question: Why do you bring your camera with you everywhere you go?
This is why.
On the 13th of May 2008, I brought my camera to (secondary) school as always. Just a simple 'newbie' setup. A gripped 400D, and a 50 1.8II. Classes chugged along on and on. Then it was our Chinese lesson, the most dreaded lesson to us.
Oh how us Chinese "B syllabus" / "failures" hated the lesson - one hour of Chinese. We were the ones with "no hope" for Mandarin. Yet our teacher tried to ease our burdens, knowing that we disliked the language and had practically no grasp over it. He would translate each sentence into English for us, hoping that we would gain just a little bit of knowledge out of that hour. He would give us short breaks during the lesson and sought to know each one of us a little better.
I got bored and shot some photos of him without him realising (and if he did, he didn't acknowledge). And then, after an excruciating fifteen minutes, the bell rang and off we went to our next class.
I went home that day, downloaded the photographs to my computer, and didn't bother about them any more.
Seven months later, I graduated with a Merit (the highest grade) in my Chinese 'B' Language. My teacher congratulated me while grinning ear to ear. "See! I knew you could do it!" he said in Mandarin. I laughed, thanked him, and left the school compound.
That was the last time we really talked.
Earlier today, I got news from my mom who works at a boarding house associated with my old school, that my chinese 'b' teacher, Mr Koh, had passed away on Saturday after having a stroke and slipping into a coma.
This was the photograph, the last one of him I ever got to shoot:
This is why.
On the 13th of May 2008, I brought my camera to (secondary) school as always. Just a simple 'newbie' setup. A gripped 400D, and a 50 1.8II. Classes chugged along on and on. Then it was our Chinese lesson, the most dreaded lesson to us.
Oh how us Chinese "B syllabus" / "failures" hated the lesson - one hour of Chinese. We were the ones with "no hope" for Mandarin. Yet our teacher tried to ease our burdens, knowing that we disliked the language and had practically no grasp over it. He would translate each sentence into English for us, hoping that we would gain just a little bit of knowledge out of that hour. He would give us short breaks during the lesson and sought to know each one of us a little better.
I got bored and shot some photos of him without him realising (and if he did, he didn't acknowledge). And then, after an excruciating fifteen minutes, the bell rang and off we went to our next class.
I went home that day, downloaded the photographs to my computer, and didn't bother about them any more.
Seven months later, I graduated with a Merit (the highest grade) in my Chinese 'B' Language. My teacher congratulated me while grinning ear to ear. "See! I knew you could do it!" he said in Mandarin. I laughed, thanked him, and left the school compound.
That was the last time we really talked.
Earlier today, I got news from my mom who works at a boarding house associated with my old school, that my chinese 'b' teacher, Mr Koh, had passed away on Saturday after having a stroke and slipping into a coma.
This was the photograph, the last one of him I ever got to shoot:
It's not a particularly great photograph. It's technically and artistically flawed in various ways. It was underexposed and slightly out of focus. The subjects were standing awkwardly. The lighting was florescent and horrible. It needed lots of post production just now when I reopened it.
Yet, it is the one photograph that I will always remember Mr Koh by. And now with technology helping me, so will many other ex-students who can relate to the scene in the photograph.
His grand nephew is one of my secondary school batch mates, and we are currently collaborating on a large print of this photograph, with signatures and messages at the back of the frame from as many as students as possible.
Yes, that is why I bring my camera everywhere. To let other people see the world as I see it. And often, to let other people see the good in other people, past and present, living and gone.
Thank you, Lord, for having me be at the right time, at the right place, in the right class. To be able to depress the shutter when You wanted me to. To immortalise the dearly departed in a photograph, forever, so that he may be remembered for who he was, what he did, and the lives he changed.
Rest In Peace, Mr Koh. You will always have a place in this little heart of mine.
Yet, it is the one photograph that I will always remember Mr Koh by. And now with technology helping me, so will many other ex-students who can relate to the scene in the photograph.
His grand nephew is one of my secondary school batch mates, and we are currently collaborating on a large print of this photograph, with signatures and messages at the back of the frame from as many as students as possible.
Yes, that is why I bring my camera everywhere. To let other people see the world as I see it. And often, to let other people see the good in other people, past and present, living and gone.
Thank you, Lord, for having me be at the right time, at the right place, in the right class. To be able to depress the shutter when You wanted me to. To immortalise the dearly departed in a photograph, forever, so that he may be remembered for who he was, what he did, and the lives he changed.
Rest In Peace, Mr Koh. You will always have a place in this little heart of mine.
Indeed. Thank God for this great teacher, and a photograph so others will know of this compassionate and caring teacher. And while I'm commenting on this post, props to Zexun. I really cannot think of anyone else who has such dedication towards photography than he does - always ready with his gear, and always there to document almost every event.
I'll end of on a lighter note. This next one isn't a blog. It's a web comic series. XKCD. They've gone Creative Commons recently, which means that I can post their stuff on my blog (at last!), as long as I don't make profit from their stuff. But, I'm going to quote the bottom of their page.
From XKCD:
Warning: this comic occasionally contains strong language (which may be unsuitable for children), unusual humor (which may be unsuitable for adults), and advanced mathematics (which may be unsuitable for liberal-arts majors).
We did not invent the algorithm. The algorithm consistently finds Jesus. The algorithm killed Jeeves.
We did not invent the algorithm. The algorithm consistently finds Jesus. The algorithm killed Jeeves.
The algorithm is banned in China. The algorithm is from Jersey. The algorithm constantly finds Jesus.
This is not the algorithm. This is close.
and if you're always asking people for tech help, read this, please. It's for your own good.
No comments:
Post a Comment