Happy Halloween

Something on the side of macabre...

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud one night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling -my darling -my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

-- Edgar Allan Poe

The Book Post: The Graveyard Book

Yes. I chose the kiddy cover

As a toddler, the night his family is killed, Nobody Owens* ( aka Bod) manages to wander into the neighbouring graveyard, where he is then raised under the relative safety of its ghostly citizens. The killer, meanwhile, remains undeterred from his unfinished task...

My most charming reader,

I must take this opportunity, while I am on another of my frequent, if short bouts of haitus from my essaying to introduce you to this lovely book. The author, Neil Gaiman, needs no introduction. He is afterall, the well known writer of Stardust, American Gods, and the Sandman series of graphic novels. He didn't draw the last one; Dave McKean, and some others did. Dave McKean also needs no introduction here; he illustrated the so-called "Adult" version of The Graveyard Book (as if different versions matter to the story, and is as such, a marketing ploy which I have been successfully suckered into), which in my opinion anyway, has a less exciting cover. Sorry, Mr McKean.

Back to Neil Gaiman. The Graveyard Book marks his return since awhile to fiction for younger readers, and much as bookstores have placed several copies of Stardust on the children's bookshelf, I am absolutely certain that this is the heavily edited version with several naughty bits snipped out of it. And so, technically, no, Neil Gaiman hasn't written anything for teenagers (and below) for some time.

Reading The Graveyard Book, this might have come as a surprise. After all, the book pulls you in quickly, thus keeping the attention deficit child of the Internet Age hooked quickly. The book has an easy prose, a likeable protagonist and quirky, endearing characters. It doesn't condescend to the child, and neither is it overly sentimental, which might put off the older reader. All in all, it's a book that manages to keep the balance in its readership.

One slight thing of note, which would be totally negligible if this is your first Gaiman book, is that there is the sense that Gaiman is repressing some of the grislier details. Understandable. This book is meant for a more general audience than say, Neverwhere, or American Gods. But this means the villains aren't very well fleshed out. There is a rather vague sense of menace that rolls off them, but they aren't seriously terrifying. On the other hand, as the book is more or less from a child/teenager's perspective, the lack of background information might be because a child, even one raised in a graveyard, would not have access to this kinds of knowledge, though the ending builds a promise of changing this, I think. I hope I haven't spoiled the book for anyone. But then, a well-spun story doesn't really need to go all out to make its point.

Overall: 4.5/5

*spot the pun?

The Neverending Cyber War, or Angsty Stream of Consciousness

UPDATE:
OK. It decided to work after all. After I worked up the nerve to swtich it on again that is. Don't know how long it'll last though.

At the risk of sounding like a choric extra out of some homeric epic, The Fates are against me. I had a nasty feeling when I saw the windows update prompt about downloading a new service pack just as I had sat down finally to do planning for the SEA Lit essay. In any case, this being an important looking update, I let it get down to whatever it (it, here being my laptop) had to do and I proceeded to do what I had to do. So, after coming to a rut in the planning, which from the beginning has been a painful and mind-freezing affair, I checked the service pack installing thing and it had hung. Typically. As per usual. Something had to go wrong at the wrong time.

Now. How did I know it had hung. I knew it had hung because the installing bar wasn't moving one peep. Having wisened up to the incredible and seeming incompatibility with me and all things electrical, I saved my work in my thumbdrive before forcing a restart, only to have that stupid blue screen staring belligerently at me. Only this time it had words on it, which went somewhat along this line: Your system configuration installation is incomplete (duh. whose fault? not mine. not exactly). Rebooting to previous configuration.

Am now sitting panic stricken in front of the desktop. I am absolutely certain that there is unsaved data in the laptop. Which at this moment looks unretrievable, because the stupid creature is still rebooting. The first step, as gd ol' lappie proclaimed is successfully complete. The second, which it is calling a rollback, is still in the midst of being completed. And has been for the past half an hour. Someone let me know if I should be pulling the plug yet.

Why why why now. Now. When I have essays. It could have been last week. Or the week before. Anytime would have been preferable to this week. I can't lug my desktop to school... or to work... I am so forwarding my plans to buy a laptop before I graduate to sometime soon.

Thank You

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made
(Robert Browning)

Thank you for the drinks
Thank you for the fun
Thank you and you, and you.

Thank you for all the letters
Thank you for the dinners
Thank you, and you and you.

Thank you for being there
Thank you for being everywhere
Thank you to you, and you and you.

Thank you for the help
Thank you for the advice
Thank you for being nice.

Thank you for msn
Thank you for all these times
Thank you, all of you.

Thank you for the kind words
The encouragement
Thank you, and you and all of you.

Thank you for the good times
Thank you for the care
Thank you for
You;
And for more Thank Yous.

Notice

My damned phone (and may it rot in hell) died today. Will be completely uncontactable for a while. Watch this space for updates.

UPDATE:
It decided to work, mysteriously, after all...

F1?!

Kid you not, but I think I can hear the cars revving up from my home... I am hoping it is somebody's television...

Lessons

I do realise that I am blogging a lot about my sad life as a tutor, but please bear with me...

Lesson #1

Student (muttering indistinctly): oliveristerrible...

Me: What?

Student (giggling slightly embarrassedly): Oh, I got this classmate call Oliver. Because it rhymes with terrible, he called Oliver is so terrible.

(pause)

Me: But Oliver doesn't rhyme with terrible... (tries it out) oliver...terrible...
(nope. there's the 'l' which gives 'terrible' a lilt at the end that 'oliver' doesn't have.)

Me: Umm. It might be a very weak rhyme. It doesn't rhyme at all, unless you say "terrible" as "terriber", and even then...

Student (quickly): Oh, My classmates's english is lousy one. When teacher is explaining in class, all they do is talk and laugh.

Me (seizing oppourtunity, adds sanctimoniously): Aha! See! If you all had been paying attention, you all would be able to rhyme properly.

Lesson #2

A conversation sometime ago. Heavily edited by scabbed memory.

Me: But why do you always wear black?

Morphie: **********

Me: Is your cupboard full of clothes that's black?

Morphie: **********

Me: Boring. (Quickly realises that is not a question) Umm. Do you like black?

Morphie: **********

Me (is quickly exhausted): You know. There was a point to me asking all those questions.

Morphie: And that is...?

Me: Er... I was attempting to conduct an experiment a lecturer said we should try, and that is to answer a question with another question.

Morphie: You don't have to. You already do that all the time.

Lesson #3

Me: And so, let me tell you, children nowdays are incredibly gossipy and irritating. And its not even the girls.

B: What happened?

Me: The irritating kaypoh kid, and a boy mind you, asked me if why I was dressed so nicely in a floral blouse. I remembered ignoring him, and the twit went on to ask me if I was meeting my boyfriend. I ignored him and went to write something on the board, and he asked me if I was going to a candle-lit dinner. I said dryly that it was a little too early for dinner as it wasn't even 3 in the afternoon then. He then asked me if I was going out to study and I replied that I was going home after tuition. Let me repeat. Children are full of obnoxious questions.

B: But that's because you didn't answer his first question. He'll stop if you just explained why you wore what you were wearing.

Me: Oh yeah...
(To be honest, I hadn't even thought I was even dressed that nicely... But on helpful advice and hindsight, if I had chosen to point out that I didn't think I was dressed that nicely, I might have had an easier time that day in class.)

Further Proof that the World is some kind of joke.

First the laksa,
Then the Shoe.

And to add to the seemingly unending list of surreal moments in the land of tuition:

Today, I was making a sweep down the aisles to ensure that the kids were all copying their homework as dutifully as they should be when I caught my boss waving and beaming cheerfully at me through the glass window in the door. I beamed back and gave a slight wave, and because I had reached the end of the class, I made a turn back to the board to write the explanation for the next question. On turning back, I discovered my boss opening the door, "Oh sorry, excuse me. Can I talk to you?"
... ... ...
Oh.

Wedding Furore

After hearing my alarm go off early for my jog, I determinedly ignored my conscience and went back to bed - which was just as well as it started pouring minutes later. My slight guilt resolved, I had just snuggled comfortably into my blanket when minutes later, a car horn sounded loudly. I ignored that. If you live next to a carpark, you get used pretty soon to the sounds of motocycles firing up, speed demons raring about (occasionally), school buses looming in and of cause, car honking.

This morning was different.
First, one car honked, then followed by another and then another in a rising crescendo. I stumbled out, not as blearily as I would have liked, which shows how futile my snooze had been, and went to the window, convinced that some large vehicle like a lorry or van must be blocking the only exit/entrance to the carpark. Of course it wasn't. There was a wedding SUV parked outside the lift entrance to my block, and I knew then which twits had been the cause of my less than tranquil time in bed.

Muttering to myself, and still wrapped in my blanket, I stalked out of the room, slightly amused and rather annoyed. A quick glance at the other bed in the room indicated that my sister was apathetic to all noises and still asleep - I suspected on purpose.

And, so, grumbling about how the groom and gang was likely still high from their stag party, I went to the kitchen and found my mom at the window there. I joined her there and being busybodies, began commenting on their choice of wedding carriage, flowers, colour scheme etc. For the record, the SUV was silver, and bundled in white flowers on white ribbon. Apparently, the wedding planner had anticpated well in advance the uncooperative weather (more fit for a funeral) and the wedding entourage were sheltered from the elements by a matching pair of large black and white umbrellas and several smaller blue ones. Additionally, the men were all, as I noted with a snort, togged in palish pink-lavender shirts. Pants were black; they were clearly not that insane yet.

All normal so far, and I couldn't help but make snide comments about how men were generally idiots. My dad on the other hand, as the only male in the house and a misanthrope, was making his usual cynical comments that the bride was likely from China. I doubted it very much. Firstly, it wouldn't be the bride's fault, as she is the one waiting for her groom to appear, and such failure to abide by the usual custom seemed more the work of a contemporary Singaporean. Secondly, my dad tended to blame anything and everything on either the Government or China. My theory was that these lot had probably in their life up til then been part of some wretched well-meaning if ridiculous student council for them to commence with the further stupidity that would come next:

They got into their cars (I make that about 5 or 6) and getting into line with the wedding car in front, began a roundabout round the rubbish dump next to my block, honking for their worth and I suspect, grinning inanely at the cameraman, who squatted in the middle of the road to take their pictures. Then, abruptly, when the honking had reached its zenith, somebody in the block, to my right and downwards suddenly yelled in what appeared to be either a sleepy or drunken slur, "You B******! ASS****! Damn F****** P****S!" My dad, who has a puritan mindset worthy of the Aunts of the Victorian period, triumphantly uttered, "They deserve it! Probably from China!" The wedding entourage, which had still been attempting the slow roundabout came to a standstill, and the honking stopped. The rude yelling went on, and one could almost sense the wedding party wilting from the searing criticism they were receiving.

The sort amusement which I had not been enjoying in a while was wiped away in an instant both by the yelling jerk and my dad's comments. My mom replied by saying he was an unfeeling person, and while we both agreed that 6 cars honking early on a Saturday morning was a bit much, the wedding didn't deserved to be cursed and swore at. Someone could have just yelled, "Stop honking!" or "Quiet!" instead of all that. What could have been a funny early morning spectacle ended up being dampened by someone who clearly took life too seriously.

Then, of course, being that sort of family, the topic jumped from a vehicle of one sort to another, which is of the F1 variety. My dad still complained about the Government, I ended up on the opposite side and defended its decision to host the race... and such is one morning flown by even though I had wanted to work on my essay...

Free Rice

Do a good cause today!

Improve your grammar and vocab and donate rice!

Absurdia

And so... in a not so typical day at class... I ended up mending my student's slipper in class while issuing threats now and then from my precarious perch on the swivel chair. I had offered to give a call to his mother so that she can fetch him something to walk home with, but he didn't want me to, and insisted on trying to fix in class himself. The thing is: I could 1) let him waste 1.5 hrs on futile shoe-fixing and not do any proper work, or 2) shoe had to be fixed by someone other than him so that he can get some work done
Guess who. Still I am quite proud of that fixed slipper. Especially when I only had scotch tape to work with and it being impossible to tell little boys to work slowly or not yank on the slipper after it being taped.

Right. Tis one week after another.

The Book Post: Covers that suck

In any case, I feel slightly vindicated by this new cover from HarperCollins (which sucks by the way) as it proves my theory that the tiny little blob of the moving castle on this cover is a homage to the Miyazaki design from the movie. As I indulge further in more theorizing, the chicken feet castle from the film clearly has its roots not in Jones' description (since the book version of the castle lacks any form of limb-like appendages) but in a rather terrifying folk story personality from Russia; a witch known as Baba Yaga, and whose house has a pair of bird-feet to move around about. Her preferred method of transportation however, seems to be a flying mortar and pestle (if I did not remember wrongly). Goodness knows why Miyazaki modelled the castle on this, but nevermind...

What I really wanted to do was point out how the covers of Diana Wynne Jones' books seem to be getting from bad to worse. It's no wonder if children nowadays don't read her books. The same can be said for the Penguin covers of the Artemis Fowl series, which can be succinctly surmised as they think it is snazzy but is really ugly.

Meeting Point

Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs)
Time was away and somewhere else.

And they were neither up nor down;
The stream's music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.

The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise -
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
The bell was silent in the air.

The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.
Time was away and somewhere else.

The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock:
Time was away and somewhere else.

Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.

God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body's peace
God or whatever means the Good.

Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.

-- Louis MacNeice

This is a lovely piece of poetry. Makes me wish I was taking Irish Poetry class. Hopefully, there will be next semester.

Students' Nightmare

The Three States of Increasing Depression.

The image speaks for itself.

Teacher's Day

This here is a poem by Jack Prelutsky. Happy Teachers' Day indeed.


The Creature in the Classroom

By Jack Prelutsky

From The Baby Uggs are Hatching

It appeared inside our classroom
at a quarter after ten,
it gobbled up the blackboard,
three erasers and a pen.
It gobbled teachers apple
and it bopped her with the core.
"How dare you!" she responded.
"You must leave us...there’s the door."

The creature didn’t listen
but described an arabesque
as it gobbled all her pencils,
seven notebooks and her desk.
Teacher stated very calmly,
"Sir! you simply cannot stay.
I’ll report you to the principal
unless you go away!"

But the thing continued eating,
it ate paper, swallowed ink.
As it gobbled up our homework,
I believe I saw it wink.
Teacher finally lost her temper.
"OUT!" she shouted at the creature.
The creature hopped beside her
and GLOPP...it gobbled teacher.

Source: http://www.jackprelutsky.com/flash/parentPoems/CreatureClassroom.pdf

Incidentally, I received stickers with 'A+' and 'Perfect' from one of my students. How neat is that? It's oddly touching that they seem to think that you would want stickers like that, and kid you not, I do appreciate them.

The library as a sanctuary of study

I quite fail to understand how anyone can miss the point. Yes. by all means shush the crying child. It is after all, standard, responsible behaviour for a child's guardian or parent in the library - the sanctuary of silent study in nice air conditioning.

But, when the guardian's phone makes loud noises and her shushing *repeatedly* is louder than the child (now happily cooing), I seriously wonder at the irony of it all. Part of me wants to say: strangle the child, no noise! and the other part of me of course is doing the admonishing for saying such nasty things in the first place. The best solution is of course, not to bring the pram, the baby and the toddler in and seeing as the parent did not seemed inclined to read or borrow books or use a laptop, I really really fail to understand why anyone would come in here.

Creatively Written: Diary Entry

Welcome ladies and gentlemen! Step up this way to the first ever Borders Books and Movies Fair at the Expo!

Dear blog-san,

Today, I went to the Borders Book (and Movie) Fair at the Singapore Expo. It was a lot of fun. In the morning, after eating a delicious breakfast which consisted of bread from the bakery downstairs, I flipped through the newspaper and saw the advertisement for the fair once again. After a few minutes of indecision, I decided to just go for it, since it was so tempting. Hoping to catch a ride in my father's taxi to the bus stop, I went down quickly after dressing to meet him at the carpark.

Upon seeing my father and his relief driver there, I greeted the both of them cheerfully and settled down for the short ride. However, upon nearing the bus stop, my father made a turn towards Hougang instead, and I was left stranded in the car and headed in the wrong direction. As if to dampen my trip further, my bus loomed up just after my father had passed the bus stop. Red with silent fury, I sulked while my father dropped off the relief driver. To my relief however, my father offered instead to drive me to the Expo! I nearly jumped for joy, but recalled in time that I was in my father's cab!

Stuck on cloud nine, I could not resist grinning from ear to ear all the way there. On reaching, I made a beeline for the fair immediately. All at once, I seemed to be wading against a sea of human bodies, and it was all very exciting. As I browsed through the varied selection of fiction, all priced cheaply, I even found two copies of a school text that I needed for the coming semester. How lucky!

Here is the list of books I bought*:

The Harmony Silk Factory; Tash Aw
On Friendship; Michel de Montaigne
The Ladies of Grace Adieu; Susanna Clark
A Clockwork Orange; Anthony Burgess
The Republic; Plato
Plays; Anton Chehkov
One Hundred Great Books in Haiku; David Bader
The Secrets of a Fire King; Kim Edwards
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell; Susanna Clark
Mozart's Journey to Prague; Eduard Morike
The Ingenious Edgar Jones; Elizabeth Garner
Perfume; Patrick Suskind

Two hours later, tired but pleased, I made my way out of the Expo with my purchases safely stashed away in my backpack. I love book shopping!

Lots of love,
XXX

*Somehow, I don't see the persona of the diary writer reading this kind of books, but nevermind
_____________________________

Now. Admit it. How many of the phrases did you come across in your youthful days of composition writing? I can't believe I have to teach phrases like "jumped for joy", "tired but pleased" and "grinning from ear to ear" in my classes. The cliches are threatening to make my eyes drop out from rolling too much. Also, I really must find something else to harp on other than tuition....

Dream reads

Right. As some of you know, I've been reading ahead for one of my lit modules, and that book (Middlemarch) unfortunately, is thick, and while not exactly boring, is not exactly engrossing either. My life is being ruined by the Internet age. In any case, this book is suspected as being the first book to be covered during lectures, hence it being read ahead. Also, as to how badly this book is affecting me, I started having weird dreams about it last night, which essentially consisted of how the reading ahead was a futile attempt at getting ahead because, in my dream, Middlemarch isn't even the first, or second book on the lecture list but the 3rd, or the middle of the lecture schedule. As if that wasn't enough, a check with the ivle workbin showed that Eliot will only be covered after the term break, and as such, I doubt if I would even remember who is who and what is what in the book by then. Bleah. Wasted effort for now. I am better off going to refresh my memory of reading Alice in Wonderland...

Flower Feast

Singapore Garden Festival 2008
A photo selection.

P.S. The flowers are all real.

The Book Post: Artemis Fowl and the Time Paradox

Aurum potestas est
So claims the Fowl motto and if we are to take the glossy gold-cover of the book (see post below) literally. However, in the course of six books, one learns that paradoxically, all that glitters is not gold - that shimmer in the air may be an invisible fairy, or more importantly, as young Artemis finds out, what's precious need not be appraised in carats.

As the possible last book in the series by Eoin Colfer, the book takes up some of the themes that have been sidelined previously in lieu of the characters having to save the world. Having now recently adverted the latest threat to fairy and humankind, the plot turns towards the long-suffering environment for the next adventure. Artemis' mother, Angeline, has fallen prey to a debilitating disease whose cure lies in the brain fluid of an extinct lemur. Hence the title - Artemis has to travel back the years to outwit his younger self, the culprit behind the extinction of the particular lemur species and rescue said lemur. No doubt, in comparison to The Arctic Incident or The Opal Deception, the scale is not as epic (no trolls, no mob attacks etc), but with this as the last book, for now, it is nice to see a return to character development. Little Arty is growing up *sniffle*, and things are changing. In some ways, this is good; the readers of the books won't stay ten forever, and the Growth of a Character is very important in children's literature. You know... so that they get life lessons out of it or something.

On the other hand, when parts of that character development, the establishing and maturing of the relationships between the main characters also consists of what I suspect to be fanservice, I can't help but feel a pang of loss. I flipped back to the very first book in the series, and I find that the first few lines still make me laugh. "The language," and here I quote my sis, "is really good here." I agree. The wit and humour sparkles and crackles with an energy not seen in the latest of the series. This is why, perhaps, I'm not sad that Colfer is stopping the series for now. The series is growing fatigued, and as one says, one should leave it while the going is still good. And it still is, even with me grumbling how the insides of the book do not shine as much as the cover.

Overall: 3.5/5