I really shouldn't say "crap" first thing in the morning, 'cos it means that later at 12:20pm, when I realise that I have clean run out of time and I have one more stanza of the poem to go, that is the first thing out of my mouth.
Then I hear a ripple of not-so-whisper-like-whispers... "I can't believe Ms G said "crap"!"
Monday, April 14, 2008
-ve Priming: An e.g. of what not to do
Internal monologue
Monday, 5:45am [Alarm rings]Crap. Groan. No.... 9 more minutes
5:54am
I'm snoozing some more. Who needs a shower in the morning anyway?
6:03am [Visions of being late for school jolt me awake]
-blank-
6:10am
Brain kicks in and tells me I've got to shower, who am I deluding.
6:30am {Walking out to the bus-stop]
Brain kicks into second gear and alarms go off: "CRIKEY! I FORGOT THAT WE'RE NOT GIVING BACK THE TEST FOR LIT CLASS TODAY WHICH MEANS THAT I HAVE A LIT LESSON IN THE MORNING THAT I HAVEN'T PLANNED FOR!!!"
6:40am [On bus, scribbling lesson plan in exercise book]
I think I'll re-use my Sec 1 materials for my Sec 3s. Heh heh heh. *evil laughter*
6:50am {Asleep on bus]
ZZZZZzzz
6:55am [At school]
Need coffee. Cannot function without coffeee. Is the photocopier down? Oh dear. But I'll make my cup of coffee first.
7:05am {madly photocopying. madly planning. brain, infused with caffeine, in overdrive]
How many copies do I need? Why is there no paper? What's wrong with the Master Print? What do I need to scan? What is my password? Who am I?
7:35am [singing the Mahjulah]
I need to tell the kids to stay in their class. Where are they?
---- FAST FORWARD
9:00am [NOW]
STOP BLOGGING! GO TO CLASS!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Tete-a-tete with Lee Tzu Pheng
“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” Robert FrostI was standing at border's flipping through local poet Lee Tzu Pheng's collection of poems "Lambada by Galilee & Other Surprises" and it struck me how revealing and intimate it is to read another person's poetry. I read her poem about teaching Tyger in a classroom and I laughed because it was all too familiar; I read her poem about the way of the cross and I thought—ah! she's a Christian; I read the one about finding Lucky Plaza on a map and I thought—she's kinda whimsical; and so, from having absolutely no idea who she apart from the role she has played as a local poet, I thought, hey, it would be nice to sit down and have tea and a chit chat with her.
I wish I could have my poems published one day too. But for now, my poems are too frivolous, too particular, too sentimental, and too unpolished. But it would be so cool to add my voice to the accumulation of local poetry in Singapore... Read More!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My Macbook sleeps
My Macbook sleeps tonight
I left the power cable at work
And I think of Jesus
dead in the tomb
three days
drained and poured out
exhausted for the sins of men.
He lies on the cold rock, painfully still
silent
a man without a shadow
a useless God bereft of power.
Satan laughs
Monday, April 07, 2008
My wicked soul
mumbles through the bits it doesn't like.
OurFatherwhoartinheaven
Hallowedbethyname
ThykingdomcomeThywillbedone
Onearthasitisinheaven
GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD
FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES
asweforgivethosewhotresspassagainstus
leadusnotintotemptation
BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL
forthineisthekingdom, THE POWER, andtheglory
FOREVER AND EVER.
amen.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
A poem in two parts
Everytime they take a test
she writes a poem
a sad poem a tragic poem a nothing poem
______neither here nor there
just to fill up the quiet
and drown out the scratching of pen on paper
Everytime she writes a poem
it is a test
of how much how far how deep
______she would succumb
to the stranglehold of lies
that maligns hope and whispers chaos
Sunday, March 30, 2008
What is poetry?
A poem may appear to mean very different things to different readers, and all of these meanings may be different from what the author thought he meant. For instance, the author may have been writing some peculiar personal experience, which he saw quite unrelated to anything outside; yet for the reader the poem may become the expression of a general situation, as well as of some private experience of his own. The reader's interpretation may differ from the author's and be equally valid-- it may even be better. There may be much more in a poem than the author was aware of. The different interpretations may all be partial formulations of one thing; the ambiguities may be due to the fact that the poem means more, not less, than ordinary speech can communicate.
T.S. Eliot
Thursday, March 27, 2008
My long days
I wake at 5:45am, get to school by 7am, leave school between 4 and 6:30pm, have dinner, start work at 8pm, fall asleep at 11:15pm, and the cycle begins again.
WHAT IN THE WORLD DID I SIGN UP FOR?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I'm a chao enthu newbie teacher
I have a bruise on my hip and my thigh from lugging an accordion up and down the overhead bridge, up and down the public bus, and up the stairs to class.
I tried to psych myself to walk like an air stewardness with a chic trolley luggage, but I kept getting stuck in the narrow doorways.
Monday, March 24, 2008
How to create an interactive whiteboard with the Wiimote
This is so cool! I wanna make one!
Thoughts on the Monday after Easter
The day after Easter, and I order a chunk of grilled chicken breast on top of my mee siam. Which makes me wonder: could I ever give up eating meat? If I can't, does that mean that I am a hypocrite who gives lip service to the cause of the poor squealing pigs being led to the slaughter? Is it possible to feel for the sorry pig and desire meat at the same time?
Are we all vegetarians in heaven?
Why do Mondays breed in me such difficult questions?
I am up to two cups of coffee. There is a 20-cents-per-cup cappuccino machine in my office that I've grown awfully fond of. I watched this TV show that showed that if you have grown used to coffee, it doesn't actually stimulate you as much as you'd like to believe. True, if you suddenly stop drinking coffee tomorrow, you'll have a splitting headache and your attention would drop, but in two weeks you would be as good as new. But I like coffee. The way I like meat.
Anyway, on a totally different track, some of my kids are so angelic. Sometimes when I stand in front of the class and look at (some of) their bright-eyed faces (ignoring the rest), I want to sit them down and talk to them like King Solomon: enjoy the days of your youth! Before your teeth fall out, your hair grows white and your heart heavy with sorrow. And I'm not even that old yet.
I enjoy telling my kids that I'm twice as old as them. Haha! I said today, "I'm twice your age and you don't know what a wiki is?" Heh. I'm a show-off teacher. :)
Sorry about the rambly post. I blame the back-to-back classes and the 20-cents-per-cup cappicino. (It only dispenses half a cup: a kid's portion.)
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
I was in the living room singing and playing my guitar and my mother brought out from the kitchen
1. An orange
for the stone that was rolled away
She went back into the kitchen and came out 2 minutes later with
2. A bowl of hard boiled eggs
for the new life we have in Christ Jesus because he rose from the dead!
Finally on her last trip, she brought out
3. A bag of pears
for the fruit of the spirit that we have: love, joy peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control
Christ is risen!
Friday, March 21, 2008
A girl with a guitar
is that a scar on her face?
why is she green?
what is her name?
iamnotanartist2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
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