When I was sixteen I created what was probably my first true piece of art with something to say. I wasn't very good with titles so I termed it as best as I could, Popularity. That was the word that decorated in Verdana the full length of the first A3-sized board of preparatory work, mostly because I thought it a clever and convenient thing to do, "look that's one board down, only six more to go!" You might call it a sculpture installation even though I did not know what to call it at the time, not that it mattered since I never was quite able to speak about my work to anyone.

The sculpture was formed of two dull gray mechanical arms standing a couple of metres apart rising out of the ground, one shooting straight up to about eye level griping onto a sphere with its three-pronged claws, another bent away from the other at its base and elbow joint in a gentle angle such that it seemed reaching out for another identical sphere, suspended inches away in nothingness by a fishing line. I built this thing out of odd pieces of recycled and found materials - wood panel and foam board with nuts and bolts for the claws, cardboard tubes and dismantled bits of past students' works like a metal stand and a wheel hub to form the central structure, some acrylic and spray paint, sand, white glue, and two plastic inflated balls the kind that children play with. It was a strange yet fresh undertaking because up to that point, most of what I ever did was draw. I would come into the studio for Drawing & Painting exams and draw something I had thought up the night before even though we would get three weeks to develop ideas, or I remember one time in third year, draw the whitewashed motorcycle which was the centrepiece of our massive still-life set up - the then realistic manner which I rendered it led to much attention and also became the thing my fellow art students came to remember me for, I probably secretly enjoyed this a lot because finally here was something I was good at after embarrassingly failing all my other classes and being good for nothing in one of the top-ranked schools of the country.

I started on the project rather late, in August when it should have been April, perhaps only consulting my tutor thrice on what I wanted to do. I am sure he was perplexed and worried, but he would later comment to another tutor that I was very independent going about my work; systematically sawing, sanding, painting, drilling and building my odd contraption. I enjoyed this freedom, though I probably abused it more than I ever did embrace it. We got to choose our day for class, which corresponded with a specific tutor, of which there were three. So Friday afternoons I would stay for art class, the best class ever because it meant a late lunch with friends in an almost-empty refractory, walking into class with drink in hand, breaks as you liked it, jokes, and drawing. At times there would be rules enforced and work demanded or a lesson proper, but even then it was nothing like Elementary Mathematics whose quadratic equations I could still not do by third year. I remember we once had an ex-student come in, who had moved on to studying at Art Center or CalArts or some such fancy place in the United States because he was drawing shiny concept cars with markers, and that left a deep impression on me - it was like watching Feng Zhu work and talk about his work in first person.

Although I called it the first, I would not call it my favourite piece of work. For one thing I don't think I was ever very clear about what I wanted to say through it. Popularity really should have been Exploitation of The Desire for Popularity or I Do Not Understand Why Everybody Buys this Popular Shit or Sometimes I am Glad I am Not Popular, though I admit the original does carry with it a certain simplistic, ironic, sardonic charm. I might have had too much to say; at one point the installation was to include a weaving, twisting, repeating stream of rectangular possibly acrylic panels sandwiching the spheres, as it were, to symbolise a kind of basic contrast in shape and thus nature in this flow of life. The spheres represented in a sea of bad ideas good ones being snatched up and sucked dry and essentially sold out by some unseen corporate machine - as such they were also meant to glow with an alluring radiance. I did not possess the time, ingenuity or resources to create such a mass of objects but the idea stayed the same, I came up with the rationale that ideas are unseen anyway, and they are within us, perhaps the audience or the people walking about observing this scene before them, just as blind and oblivious as in the real world to what happens to ideas on a grand scale. Some people might choose to call this bullshit-rationalisation and that is fine because frankly I do not care anymore.

I was certainly proud that last night we slaved to beat the midnight chime to finish our works in the new gallery on the fourth floor; proud that I had managed to accomplish this thing which I never thought I would and how it actually managed to look pretty fine and mean something at the same time. Things seem simple those years ago, I am almost amazed now of having ever thought of creating such a piece of work, also at the rest of the cohort with their other abstract installations comprising of tree trunk sections, dismantled car interiors, blown-up colour-in covers of Time magazine, giant bee drawings with dead leaves, surrealist illustration on unused projection-screen and papier-mâché fist-sized cocoons. The environment encouraged a very hands-on, non-painting (yet focusing on drawing in first year and design concepts in the second), non-traditional approach to art, and although I did not realise this until I was in junior college where I had received a culture shock of sorts, it formed the conditions which taught me to explore the possibilities of expression through art. As I await to begin a next phase in my life, I am thinking and maybe hoping that this environment which I have chosen will allow me to make yet more discoveries, that I will do all I can to not have to regret it.

Sum
(Click to expand)

So we've been out for over a month and a half. Whatever you want to call it, serfdom, jail, rot, torture, total waste of time, I think most of us bear the same rightfully negative sentiments. Disregarding overlaps, what differs are the experiences, no two can say they've had the same complete one (if they do they're probably mistaken in thinking so), and neither does anyone walk away from these two years with the same things, or amount of things, in their hands and on their minds. Thus the reasons or roots for such negativity generally differs, for when I say "waste of time", I am not as bitter as the man who thinks the government has stolen his youth that was meant to have been spent in glee and importance in a reputable and expensive university elsewhere, or the man who thinks his livelihood or path to such has been endangered and possibly destroyed. Not that they are not entitled to such views, or that my struggle needs more noticing (though it often feels like it does), but I'm just saying, and this shouldn't be surprising if you know me in some extent, that I am bitter over more sentimental, personal, and intricate trivialities, which do indeed seem trivial to many. I am not harbouring hatred for this person I've had the unpleasant opportunity to work with or cursing that person who's made me do things I hate doing just because I'm set for so much more, I'm not talking about bitterness in the way you may understand it to mean self-absorbed anger. I'm talking about malcontent that stems from a true waste of time with relation to something specific. I like to think that I actually have in my possession something, a skill, like a little plant which was for the most part simply kept locked up in an old cluttered drawer not to see the light of the sun or be watered or allowed to grow. I had and still have no desire in manipulating this sprout for celebrated purposes like wealth multiplication, and I disagree with the need for me, or anybody who also disagreed, to be forced essentially at gun-point (pick your weapon, bread and butter or rather the absence of it works too), to protect everything else that is intended for the proliferation of economy. It's ironic then that I've spent a larger part of this month and a half soaking in procrastination, ennui and outright laziness, be it due to overbearing inertia or a continued self-pitying jadedness towards this gap cut into my existence. I don't think this hole proved a total waste of my time, I don't think I haven't learnt anything, I certainly don't think I haven't grown in any way. But sometimes, in this time, it feels like that little plant has withered away, and I find myself lost as to what to do with it, or even what it can still do for me.

It's strange, and refreshing always to find that people get something out of visiting this space. As I receive the odd email, comment or private message once a blue moon or so, it's easy to discard these sentiments, rather believing that while encouraging and sincere, such responses, let alone visitors, are but a minority which passes along with the same blue moon. Sometimes though, while in the ownership of a clearer mind I'd realise how demeaning it is to undervalue these opinions, as well as my ability to garner them. Yet clarity drops by in short spans punctuated by painfully long absences, so I have grown to neglect the possibility that there are people that care, and paragraphs of introspection as this rarely manifest.

While it is noted that there are people who indeed care, it becomes almost imperative to ask why I do this - draw, paint, shoot, and write. Sometimes I'm led to believe that it's done to get attention because, it sure feels good to be noticed and appreciated. But that's just a byproduct; I can't, or rather I wouldn't want to think myself superficial enough to be wholly motivated by something so self-serving. Indeed that goes against the very reasons I give and the struggles I face in creating art. So considering the expressive nature of art, I probably do it - this - simply, to communicate, and to share. It could come consciously or subconsciously, though mostly only when out of the pits, and yes, when possessing clarity. It's just life's wont clutter of questions regarding self-worth, adequacy, existentialism and whatnot which inadvertently present the hindrance to this want for sharing.

I've avoided a for the past months from posting (here, there have surely been other avenues of outlet) about my life in national service due exactly to this clutter. There's no peace to be found riding on the waves of anger, and believe me there is a lot of it. But that's a whole other matter really. It is my hope that the absence of thought will disappear for a long while, and with it, my absence from here.

An update of sorts is probably due here as we move into the month of September, and as I move into the final stretch of military serfdom. It's actually rather amusing that this site is still getting past 100 hits a day in light of its inactivity, though something tells me that a large proportion of that is coming from ad and spam bots scouring Google Images.

I guess one thing I really want to write about is that in recent months, I've finally committed myself to attending church again. I mention this not to preach a great occurrence or anything, because understand that I am constantly struggling with my faith and believe I am in no position to do so, but rather I mention this because I feel it has been effecting a profound impact on me as a human being - on how I view life and its myriad intricacies, its ups and downs, people around me, my work, and God - and I feel it wouldn't do the progression of this blog or my art justice by avoiding this fact of my life. I've by no means experienced a miraculous-explosively-spiritual about-turn, and I probably haven't changed much at all in word and action; I still sin, I'm still a jerk from time to time, I still give people my shit, I still am judgmental, I still utter profanities abundantly, I still don't read the Bible all that much, and I still find it impossibly hard to love. But this community, fellowship, and simply receiving of the word, love and grace, taking it step by step, have provided for an increasing clarity in thought and understanding in increasing frequency, that I may even possess such awareness now to type this out. I find that amidst all this defining of my faith and yearning to feel Christ, and looking for the right words, I have surrounded myself with things to remind me of the fruitful pursuit, from music to art to people, and even though I still fall in and out of bitterness, anger and all that destroys, there is for once a feeling of hope. It's helped immensely to make it easier to stay out of the trap of feeling inadequate, to focus my ideas in an objective though not necessarily productive manner (and it doesn't bother me as much anymore that I don't do much in my weekends), to not think about death, to go to sleep free from pain, and simply to let go.

If you're wondering, the blank space that was seen here for the past couple of weeks was no bug at all, it's just how it's supposed to be since I set MovableType up to only display entries of the last 30 days. Unexpectedly cool though, how it fits so well into the name I've given this site.

I guess something happened to warrant my stoppage of posting for the entire month of May, or rather, many things happened - life happened.

There's nothing much to say really, with regards to this site, I'm still figuring out the new direction to take it towards, mostly the idea's to get it sounding more professional and structured; less chaotic and personal - not in the sense of tone, but of whatever-I-did-today-and-why-I-was-so-pissed posts. Well that's probably not news since I've been been taking to such a stance for the past year or so, but I just want to totally cut off the overtly emotional, pretensive waxing lyrical shit to get some credibility around here. I reckon given the nature of this medium, not everyone needs or wants this honesty.

Nothing much to say about life either, it just doesn't feel very different even as I move into my third decade. Still pretty torn over choices, or the lack of choices, in further education, been in and out of numerous stages of depression, defeatism, skepticism and ineptitude due partly to that. But I'm going to refrain from writing more about it for reasons listed in the previous paragraph.

Work, well technically what I'm enlisted to do is work, still pretty much sucks, but at least it's coming down to six months by the end of this week. Broken promises, unpleasant surprises, unjustifiable injustice, prevailing discordance. What's new really? But it represents all this pent up anger so I'm really not going to try if there's no way I can talk about it without a hint of belligerence?

I guess that pretty much leaves Art in a safe corner. Depending on how you want to look at it. I will certainly post some when I do feel like it, but for now there's really nothing, unsurprisingly also due to what I've been going through. And frankly, I'm too damn excited about the Anberlin+Copeland gig tonight so until that time when I actually have meaningful thoughts to share, God bless everyone.

There are some I'd rather not have met or known. "Friends" I'd rather not remember or give two shits about. Those I learn to love to hate, as with certain bits of myself. Like Conscience, and this pretense at trying to be someone better as if it offered some sense of sanctity. Tolerance burdens, I grow self-conscious towards a selfish need to be felt needed and wanted, or a wishing for peer acceptance; as well as being all the more confused pondering the complexities of life, limits of patience and so-called justification for prejudice. They said it's not meant to be a smooth ride, but simply living is killing me. There are some that turn out to be real, but I also ponder if I deserve such. Oh the predicament, whether to carry on, or be skeptical of any strength and faith to be proven from carrying on. But what other way is there.

It's getting so damn tiring, this constant back and forth motion; graphing an impossibly straight line with sudden peaks and troughs on occasions unknown - in and out, work and slack, bliss and depression, caring and not. This whole empty feeling of being dulled and dumbed down by monotonous repetition wonderfully fulfills predictions of twelve months back. They did seem to pass so quickly, there's nothing much to recall if it hadn't been for these words left behind, but the difficulty's always in the present, it kills just to think of the ten to go and the speed at which we're travelling. The things they put us through are hardly life-threatening but the farce piles up into necessity that doesn't even concern anything beyond the fenceline, well maybe it does, since they already control our lives. It almost sounds like I'm not alone, but it is where I stand, misunderstood and desensitised. These circus acts and endless euphemisms, it's so damn tiring.

Victory
Photoshop CS2
Dawn of Victory concept illustrations
(Click to expand)

Painted these over the weekend for the Dawn of Victory mod, pretty fun to do, and I'm quite pleased with how my speed works are beginning to not look like crap.

Anyways to the someone that said Lasalle-SIA's better (and I assume you're one of those that came through the google searches, but if you're someone I know please do reveal your identity) than NAFA, I think so too, now that I've had a good look at both. That's not to say NAFA is worthless - I'm judging based on my preferences afterall - it does have its merits, but it's not really the sort of thing I'm after due to its odd enrollment practices, young target audience, cold campus vibe and syllabus focus on skills (as opposed to thought processes and concepts as is the case at Lasalle). That said, I still haven't made up my mind even though I think Lasalle is ahead on the cool meter by about 10 notches, but it doesn't matter because I can't be applying for either till my entry year.

The AEP J2s this year seem like a fun bunch, hanging out with them brought back so many memories of coursework days, that joy and pain, and forgotten constant longing for closer, more open classmates.
I can't wait to be outta this cesspit, just one last exercise, one more parade, a dozen public holidays, plus 43 weeks and life should be getting better.

Checked out the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts' open house over weekend, from what I gathered I'm leaning ever more away from this choice. My largest consideration has got to be environment, that'd mean first and foremost my peers, - their age, skill and passion - syllabus - the course structure, and inclusive are teachers - and the campus itself - would say it's way too vertically-orientated and there's hardly any open space. It seems the school's target audience are those fresh out of secondary school, and positions itself more as a parallel to other tertiary institutions than an undergrad school, not much surprise then that they treat the one-year BFA course as separate from the diploma. What I want (or what I think I want) is both higher education and training in technical skill and conceptual substance, but apparently one only gets to truly major in the third year (that is counting the first foundation year) with most of the second spent just on general art (2D/3D) skills. From speaking to a BFA student she was doing things totally different (focusing on concepts and contextualisation) from that during her diploma course, that and the stress involved kinda worries me. Whatever the case, I cannot apply to NAFA this year anyway because for some reason places are not reserved (NSFs are just not entertained? That left quite a wtf look on my face), so perhaps that's some good news as more time is always better - it's also great for shutting the parents up.

With Lasalle-SIA's open house coming up next week, I might have taken to a less passive attitude towards what holds for my future, hopefully I'll be more impressed this time and reality lives up to my expectations. Indeed less passive is the best description I could think of, it'd be misleading to use active because, well there're still things like scholarships and overseas art colleges I haven't yet looked at even on the most superficial levels. Still very undecided, and frankly the unknown scares the shit out of me, but I believe all will fall into place in due time.

Life outside of camp has been going better of late, last Thursday I attended TAGS for the second time and felt my happiest and freest since I don't know when (I also happen to believe my introduction to and interacting with this group happened not simply by chance). Besides having met some very nice people, it's helped me immensely with opening up and speaking properly to strangers, the fact that we talk about so many shared beliefs makes it easier, but it really breaks my mold of paranoia to realising that people's prejudices are their personal problems. And I guess it's brought me closer to God in a certain small way.

Speaking of people, and the future, albeit totally unrelated, everyone should watch Children of Men.

It's interesting how we as humans have this affixed wonderment towards time and its passage, like how I had the immediate tendency to describe time as having flown in starting off this entry. Disregarding my general lack of creativity in sentence structure and yearning towards the end of another year in service, perhaps it's because time is the only thing that seems to pass constant, providing a benchmark and thus perspective for the everchanging around us - or perhaps it's just the fear of death; that time, in certain schools of thought, has to end for one. They say that "change is constant", but I find it more true to say that the state of change is constant because change can be measured in magnitudes with time as the constant. Describing life and the happenings therein, quickly enough two weeks have already passed since I've returned from the very short trip to Hong Kong, and things are once again back to normal. Well not quite normal since we've just experienced about three straight days of torrential downpour, and I've just been introduced (though not quite mutually, and that's my fault) to the existence of a very interesting Christian artist group and its collective psyche. Indeed, with change, normality is another thing we like to measure and that I like to talk about, but it has come to me that in reality there is no "normal", wouldn't you think being just average is an incredibly boring way to live life? It seems we just want to pass time with as little change as possible, with this mean being normality. Like most other times I can no longer follow or complete my own train of thought, or maybe am just running out of time before the journey back to my soul's torture that is camp passes a point called late, so I would just have to leave it right here.

Don't panic, everything's back to normal! What a week it's been, nothing quite like getting a text in the field at 8 in the morning about your website getting hacked while you're already trying to deal with an unexplained unchangable punctured tire and incredulous deployment timings that have left you with no rest through the twilight hours and realising you can't do a single thing to make anything right. Crazy I say.

In any case, this site wasn't hacked, I shouldn't think so anyway, by reason that the dubious self-spawning messages left behind by so-called Muslim hackers indicated no specific target. What actually happened was that the security of a site hosted on this server was breached and from what I understand, a script was allowed to replicate itself, replacing all index files with said message. For security reasons server owner and friend Mastermind decided to reinstall the OS and the data reinsertion explains for the long delay in things coming back up. Well, cutting to the chase, all my stuff's intact so there really shouldn't be any worry.

Anyways yes, went out on exercise deployment again but thank God it was just for a day (more like 18 hours) because so many bad things happened and we got so frantically tired trying to fix it all, including that punctured tire that we couldn't change without special equipment because it probably weighs as much as I do. Things are getting hectic about camp, in three weeks I've gone to range and learnt that luck is all that matters when shooting, been through chemical defense class getting a taste and feel of tear gas, fallen sick from the maddening haze, and faced numerous unfeeling command decisions which continuously treat us as invisible beings and push daily physical training in our faces.

Life's unchanging in some ways; still disgruntled and unhappy, and it's killing how the world looks so normal, happy and welcoming out here, out of camp. Seemed especially so when I revisited Nanyang JC yesterday, what a good feeling it is to talk to people about shared memories, opinions and interests. But life's changing so much too, too much perhaps, and ten months into the life of being a conscript I wonder ever more if normality is ever retrievable, or that it was even ever there to begin with.

Another year, and nothing's changed. Same over-earnest, over-the-top attempts at celebration, and I'd bet half of the nation has not a clue of what they're celebrating. Is our history and struggle for independence that boring or shameful? I think not, what then warrants for such elaborate, empty and pretentious displays of sights and sounds on this day which exists simply to remind ourselves of and indulge in the success that's been wrought by our assumedly wise forefathers? If I truly loved this land beyond words and the need to coverup dissenting opinion, I'd be happy to celebrate any day; be ready to stand up for her in any way. But I don't, because she's robbed me of my dignity; birthed to control, there is no pride in our labels of citizenship when all of life's concerned with greater self-sustainability and betterment of a society that I'm told to care for. What does it mean to you to be Singaporean, they ask. What's the point of talking about idiosyncracies, local cuisine, culture-building and people-development when the abstract and reality fall horribly off-tangent?

We, the citizens of Singapore,
pledge ourselves as one united people,
regardless of race, language or religion,
to build a democratic society
based on justice and equality
so as to achieve happiness, prosperity and
progress for our nation.

What a bunch of bollocks.

Met this American guy round my age from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints on the way home today, he had a fellow friend with him and they were dressed in shirt and tie like salesmen, and at first glance I did mistake them as such. It was a strangely interesting, even if brief encounter actually. Standing beside me on the crowded train he just started a conversation, I was stunned as most probably would be, but this stranger didn't seem too menacing so I felt obliged to respond. After the introductions talk flowed to Mormonism obviously, but for some reason I identified myself as a Methodist, probably just to not "lose ground" and seem vulnerable, instead of saying (the truth) that I haven't attended church for six years. There was no animosity though, small talk was followed by an exchange of beliefs and ideas, and then farewell at my stop. I'm pretty sure these missionaries were trained to respond differently to different people, they'd probably not push too much into Christians who (by right) should know about the mistruths that the Mormon church preaches, and instead make it seem like it's "just another church albeit the one and only true one" by saying things like "the Book of Mormon only serves to confirm the Bible". In a way I pitied the young man upon observing his devotion to the organisation, but there was nothing more I could've said lest inciting some heated debate which I couldn't have possibly held or won. That led me to deeper thought. What is faith if you couldn't stand up for it? Blind faith is shaky; there must be a foundation present before one can or should say "I believe", and it doesn't end there either because there will always be those around us trying to falter our steps. That got me thinking about education as well - you need to be able to read to receieve, you have to speak to preach, to write to convince, you need them to understand, to discern, to defend, to praise, to love, to worship.

Yet all these words are empty aren't they? I know what some of you think. Why am I still pretending? Who cares if I make such revelations? Or is it someone creeping into me telling me that I'm not doing enough to be Christian? Why do I continually run away? I don't know, I don't have an answer, and something tells me I shouldn't care.

What's been happening for the past two and a half weeks is that I've been learning to get acquainted with the armoured vehicle which I'm tasked to operate. Apart from rather clear discontent with how things are still being run in the armed forces, it's been fine for the most part. In this time I've passed relatively simple tests on vehicle handling, safety regulations, and mechanical maintenance; and completed my cross-country driving phase. Two more weeks of public road driving and it's graduation to my parent unit for full-time operational service.

Well there's nothing much more going on with my life right now, and I've learned to not be overly bothered by that. Being able to stay-out offers some solace and serves as a reminder that I'm still human afterall; time to think and reflect on how we live life and reasons for why things turn out the way they are. Yet slowly but surely it feels like the system is consuming us. Perhaps some don't mind since they don't feel threatened to protect any differing ideals, but it's dangerous because it is brainwashing in effect. You quickly forget that there are things which you don't want to do due to the attached personal ramifications for not doing them, and you're told that that is your duty. I don't think I'll change my opinion of NS anytime soon.

I figured, it actually isn't all that bad even if I don't make it out of this country. Just like how there's no effective political opposition, the real problem lies in that everyone is ignorantly agreeable, apathetic or conformist and those who truly care and discern are part of a minority or are not even in this land. Perhaps this experience will shape me as a person who would find new meaning in life and have more focused ideas in expression and dissemination through art. Perhaps it's better to be facing and challenging the problem rather than running away. Yet perhaps again that has been tried and failed. Whatever it is, in most probability time will tell.

Freedom of speech
Freedom of worship
Freedom from want
Freedom from fear

How much of each do we have?

After receiving a little "lecture" tonight coupled with some "reflections" - as if I couldn't understate more - I returned home late, tired and mostly angry once again with a jumbled bunch of thoughts. Their unorganised placement should not remove or lessen any importance they may carry.

-Isn't discipline instilled through fear merely cowardice? Isn't motivation much better and more easily garnered from true respect?

-One cannot entrust blindly and then turn around to blame the other party for a failure in trust.

-Words which engage your morals for the purpose of triggering false guilt are cheap and vile.

-Benefits should never be handed out in expectation of payment.

-You might as well be a circus animal if you'd willingly submit yourself to absolute control by man.

-We would be advancing for nothing if those tasked to defend progress are the very ones holding it down; the yearning and nostalgia for "the old days" which purportedly trained better soldiers will definitely spell the downfall of our armed forces and national defense on a whole.

-There is obvious discontent and bias with the institutional core value of "care for soldiers" as it is both despised by those from the old camp and also abused by others in the new; even though one cannot over-generalise on the line of division besides the neutral, its existence cannot be denied.

-The clear distinction between NSmen and NSFs should be enough to illustrate a failure in the system. The transformation they go through after ORD must bear certain relation to the experiences they've had during service. So why stick to the old ways and continue producing such reservists? Why too should we be something else when that's where we'd be in a couple of years' time?

-Unjustifiable ineffectualities are to be found in every hierarchial organisation, same goes for power-pushing, bootlicking, and egomaniacal behaviour.

-The invisible arms race we're engaged in will explode one day, and there must be certain doubt in a deterrent force which focuses on offensive doctrines.

-Life was never meant to be a happy trip. Context defines experience, it is what you take away from each day which makes you what you are in the next.

-In the end, it is only God who will judge.

The contention over National Service isn't so much whether it is necessary, but rather is the fact that it subdues basic human choice. It is the epitome of state control; to change a man, put him in his place and tell him what he is. It is essential to the process of nation-building, and in some cases, essential to securing a strong workforce. No doubt certain smaller countries need conscription to aid in their total defence, but the dangers, or rather tradeoffs are far too great to be written off simply by a concept as abstract and unexplained as duty. That's the principle which supposedly guides motivation, but is it reflected by practices on the ground? The danger with most services is how pictures are painted as so imposing, so threatening and so necessary. It eventually consumes he who is within. It destroys the countryman's will thereafter. Because of the opposition within a person that arises from his right to choose being taken away, orders if not carried out often have to be coupled with intimidation. A constant state of alertness means a constant state of fear for the citizen soldier. If not him, who will defend the country? Regulars revel in their authority, powers not to be found if not for laws justified under duty. Yet how could one force another to protect that which he does not find worth protecting? How could one then punish him for not doing that which he was forced to do to begin with?

There is no other way to look at this, I personally pity those who give their lives blindly.

So I was wrong, we get to stay out even though we're on course. There was a choice given - to weigh freedom and inconvenience against ristriction and solidarity. In the end sense found its way to me, that after just six months into service, any time spent outside of the institution is time well spent. There's really no point being so garang (gung-ho) when you didn't even want to be in the position which you are, especially when you learn the true reasons for your drawing of a monthly combat allowance. It's obvious they intimidate and entice us just for the purpose of garnering loyalty, and a false loyalty based on fear that is. No one should be subjected to such a life, all the freedom we get in years past were for nothing, we're thrown into the cage regardless, controlled, ordered, disciplined. Histories erased, personalities lost, dreams burnt. A facade. No, I will not fight and die for this country when she needs me because I was not born into a democratic society built on justice and equality. The very thing which claims to be our protection is the biggest contradiction to what we base our existence upon. The very fact that it has forced me into a path which I do not subscribe to is testament to its nature as a state of pretension. And I can not and will not live with that. But that's for another time, there's no choice but to carry on.

From author Dan Brown's website:

ARE YOU A CHRISTIAN? Yes. Interestingly, if you ask three people what it means to be Christian, you will get three different answers. Some feel being baptized is sufficient. Others feel you must accept the Bible as absolute historical fact. Still others require a belief that all those who do not accept Christ as their personal savior are doomed to hell. Faith is a continuum, and we each fall on that line where we may. By attempting to rigidly classify ethereal concepts like faith, we end up debating semantics to the point where we entirely miss the obvious--that is, that we are all trying to decipher life's big mysteries, and we're each following our own paths of enlightenment. I consider myself a student of many religions. The more I learn, the more questions I have. For me, the spiritual quest will be a life-long work in progress.

Emphasis mine. Maybe we should give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he really just answered it wrong.

But then again...

¹⁶ "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. ¹⁷ For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. ¹⁸ Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only Son. ¹⁹ This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. ²⁰ Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. ²¹ But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God."

I don't know how a man could claim that he is a Christian and go on to profess heresy to millions. Aren't his books and movie cashing in enough controversy and money for him already? This man is seriously overrated and thoroughly confused, sure The Da Vinci Code gets people talking, but it's also a work of historical mistruths at that - albeit his disclaimer that the book is based on fact, I don't need to read it to know that that's a plain lie. Given how the Catholic Church teaches that parts of the Bible may not actually be true (among other things which I shall not elaborate upon), I don't know how much help all this "stimulation" may be giving to the Christian community. In a country like Singapore I'm willing to believe that more people than less have not come to know Christ or have been exposed in the wrong way; that is, with the abovementioned sensationalised piece of literature, or with pop-culture-powered evangelical church assemblies. Within such an economically-oriented and competitive society (which effects are felt way before adolescence), how could one start a philosophical debate or plea with those who see no purpose in faith and knowing God? Money is afterall all the security you'd ever need, isn't that so? Of course awareness is a step towards salvation, but with so many variations and claims to "the Truth" these days, wouldn't there be danger of someone somewhere trying similarly to capitalise on the Code phenomenon, or even others being misled by it due to incompetent avenues of message propagation? Afterall, wouldn't a non-believer find it easier to find revelance in something that strengthens his already-present mindset, than to try to commit himself to another belief?
To me the phenomenon spells more trouble than opportunity, and no one should be thanking Dan Brown for his works' apparent commercial success.

Coincidence would have it that today is the 6th of June, 2006, that is 06/06/06. Maybe not so coincidentally though, because this day would have come just like yesterday and the day before it, and the day last year and tomorrow so on and so forth. 666 is the mark of the beast, man's number, as depicted in the book of Revelation, and to my understanding, that's all there is to the number. I do not wish to trivialise the prophecy's significance though, just saying that there is no attached inherent evil in the number's random occurance.

So maybe my conclusive point here is that people (and that means people) should stop believing in superstition and fictional truths and be more discerning with our God-given gift of free will, because at the end of the day, eternity is at stake.

Went out for dinner and some drinks with a bunch of my BMT mates last night, it was all good just to see them again, remembering life then and talking about life now. I felt at ease, no insecurities, no charade, no prejudice, no pretension. These are the guys, no, brothers whom I went through all kinds of shit and trouble with, and one could sense a real camaraderie among us. People whom I can respect and relate to, even though we're now spread all over the land doing different things. Pity only a fifth of the platoon was there, but that was enough to make me believe that some of these would be friends that I'd keep for a long time to come.

I'm not like them, I can't feel, and I can't love. Every once in a while, something, I don't know what, just something will make me feel like I wasn't born with the capacity to do so. That's why I don't particularly enjoy social interaction, that's why I don't go to church, that's also why I don't have a girlfriend and why I continuously feel insecure about friendships and everything which I think I will lose simply because I am who I am. I've been asked if I'm gay, and my reply is "hell no", and that is the simple truth. I don't understand why a guy has to be made to feel insecure about his sexuality just because he doesn't explicitly point out to everyone around him just who he fancies or what he desires. I'm not you, him, nor them, and we're all different. I don't not because I'm not interested, it's just my personality to not do the things you do, so cut me some slack and respect that. I don't because I don't have the personality to do so, and I'm fearful. I'm afraid of getting too close, because I don't want that, I don't want them to get the wrong idea; nor you to, nor me. If you wanted an answer, this is why. Don't treat me like them because I'm not them, I can't feel.

But you and I know that we're not masters of our own lives.

So many things that you want to do and say, but the opportunity slips away and it's a whole other scenario altogether. Yet who's to know what could've been? Who's to say what's best? Everything's good and bad at the same time.

I hate how I must think someone somewhere hates me. I don't know how to live anymore. Deceit and paranoia, sometimes I feel like I'd rather not have any friends - acquaintances. But then again I'd end up complaining about that too. It's impossible to appease me, even though I've never seeked appeasement. I don't even understand myself, so I don't expect much from others.

Don't know what I'm saying anymore. But it's still the same even if neither I or you understand.

Here I go back into the fray; had to keep reminding myself that I'm only one person, and there are thousands in this country going through the same things, if not even worse, with me everyday. Let's not forget either, the millions others around the world who have to suffer through life under unimaginable circumstances. Yet there are those who have made it through. I remind myself of these things, tell myself that it's nothing, it's just a little test of my strength, and that better things lay ahead. I can do it, and I will.

It seems they never fail to piss me off. As if I don't already have enough with NS to trouble me, the deluge of pressing questions about university applications just keep flowing. It's excruciating and I'm drowning, all I want is just to have a nice meal with my family after a long day of shit, but no, even if out of pure concern, they just simply can't shut up. First comes what do you want to do in U?, then you need something to fall back on, followed by various too-often-spouted nonsense about the Dragon year competition. Yet when I express my determination in pursuing further studies in art, which would assume the nature of competition is less linear, it doesn't stop, how do you know if the college is good?, do you plan on going overseas? and but -insert local art college name-, is it recognised?, you better go find out... blah blah blah, so on and so forth. I just swallow my words with the food, I've given up on saying anything because it only brings on more, and I'm in absolutely no mood to answer questions which I'm not even asking myself.

Anyways I'll be gone again for about 2 months, and probably another 2 months after that due to NS commitments, I'm starting my driving course next week and it's gonna be the same shit as BMT, whole new unfamiliar faces, places, rules and regulations. Hopefully Battlefield 2 and GTA:San Andreas are not good indicators of the driving skill I may possess, and that everything would go smoothly. I'm feeling depressed again, the lack of social activity doesn't help, and neither does the above-described situation with Uni admissions.

So are they your dreams or mine anyway? I'm not applying to NUS, NTU or SMU and that's final. If they want so much for that degree which I have no interest in working for, as if it were still some status symbol as in some ten or twenty years ago, they might as well go get another son. This is what I'm doing with my life; at the end of my rope the only person other than myself whom I'm answerable to is God. If you have a problem with decisions I make whether wise or otherwise, it's just too bad because I don't actually give a damn what you think. I'll be grateful if you'd just leave me be and stop acting as if I know nothing or that you know everything. I can never understand all this hypocrisy, if you truly had faith and trust, what's there to fear in anything, even death? We are not invincible, but surely that doesn't mean we have to whimper and quiver with fright at the sight of every obstacle in life. I'm nowhere as devoted as some are, but how can't you see something as simple as this? Whatever for? Life and faith are two of the same for me, and I intend to keep the line undrawn.

Some tell me this, others tell me that. Amidst all the conflicting opinions I don't know what to do. I'm fine with what I got actually, and so are my parents. A for AEP with merit, D for History, O for Economics and B3 for GP. I've been told they're no good, especially with the O, but I feel nothing, just as I felt nothing when I received the slip. I'm sure this is due most to my overbearing apathy and ignorance, I simply can't be bothered to find out what I can do in the future. Still I tell others that I want to go to art school, yet I know not of where, when or how, I'm clueless about opportunities, application requirements, portfolio demands, costs of living, tuition fees, course specialisation, and whatever else everyone's worrying about. I really want to not be troubled by all this, but it's an existential crisis, am I digging my own grave just by doing nothing? Even after such reflection, I still sit here unmoved. Maybe I'm lazy too, I wouldn't deny that, but maybe it's because I realise that I'll be spending the next 2 years stagnant and dead. What difference does it make since either way you can't start doing anything until then.

National service is bound to change you. You will lose track of your hopes, dreams and ideals, you will forget what you really want, love, and feel; you will forget who you are and who you want to be, you will not know what time, what day of the month, or what month of the year it is because more often than not you are not required to; and that is the gist of being a soldier - you do not need to think, you just listen, follow, and execute. When these two years are up, you will suddenly find yourself in a void, not knowing what to think or where to place your next step.

It's the eve of Lunar New Year and I feel nothing, not to say I would feel something even if I were not an army recruit, but my point is that the occasion only highlights my realisation and predicament. How hard is it to put yourself fully into the shoes of someone you're told you have to be - to think, act and live like a soldier? Not very? But then how hard is it to do that and then realise you have to totally revert to your old life again after a couple of years? Can you even do that?

If there's anything I truly fear, it's that I would become so engrossed in all of this that I lose track of everything else I believe in. The scary thing is that I can already feel it happening, both on retrospect and also while observing my commanders, I am forgetting all the things I've said before, my promises, my philosophies in life, my faith. Maybe that's why I don't want to be in any leadership position, I do not want to sell or teach things which I do not believe in, I do not want to play a part in transforming lives in such a drastic - deceitful - manner.

I'm scared of screwing up, very scared. I keep fretting over what could go wrong, and just breathe a sigh of relief after every training phase passes without incident. I don't want to spend more time than I have to in the army, who wants to? So I worry, I live in fear, I try to be alert, try not to break under pressure, try to appease people, try to be friendly, try to do things right, try to do things fast, try to be a soldier. But it's all fake, all fake. You're not protecting the country, all purpose is purposeless, nothing here is what it seems, it's all a farce. All that's keeping me alive, all that's keeping me from breaking, keeping me from losing it all is my faith in God. I know all of this is temporary, I know it counts for nothing, so I'm just praying I'll pass through it fine, that it'll be over before I know it. Yet it's a torture to live like this everyday, awaiting what may happen, thinking about the future, the past, the present, about everyone else doing their own thing. It's a torture. But it's life.

I was supposed to update on army life two days ago but procrastination and Battlefield 2 got the better of me. But anyways, like I mentioned before, it was fine, then again the real BMT hasn't exactly begun yet, so I'm not getting high hopes for better days.

Warped
Pen and paper
(Click to enlarge)

The first few days were rather easy-going, we were all still adjusting and feeling around, getting to know section and platoon mates, learning how things worked around in camp, had little physical and a whole bunch of lectures and talks. Since there was quite a bit of free time, I started drawing on the third day. The text is blurred out because there are some things that I want to keep private, but besides that, I remembered drawing a lot of parallels to my time in NPCC back in ACS(I) - the regimentation, rank hierarchy, the whole atmosphere - with the main difference being that I would be living like this for the next 3 months, or even 2 years.

Sunset
Pen and paper
(Click to enlarge)

By day 4 training was getting more physically challenging as I got muscle aches all over and also blisters on my palms and fingers. No doubt IPPT was becoming my greatest fear, the OC had said that passing it was a requirement to pass-out of BMT (which I think is a lie because all my friends who are in or have been through BMT say it's not needed) and I remember it got me really depressed on one of the later days as I felt totally useless when faced with another set of zero chin-ups. Regardless, with less free time all I managed was a quick crappy sketch of a sunset - my bunk windows face the sea, which makes for a very beautiful view and cool sea breeze (as well as lots of sand and dust).

The next time I got to write in my sketchbook was day 8, Saturday the 17th of December. By this point we already knew all of our bunkmates' names, and also made a few good friends. I also learnt a really funny and true thing: that the army is "wayang" - pretentious. It's no wonder since all the instructors from specialists (sergeants) to officers (liutenants) are NSFs. Everyone just wants to serve their time and get out, this means there are two kinds of instructors: the first are those who're really hypocrtical and enjoy the power they have, treating recruits like shit simply because they can and then revert to a friendly self during after-training talk-cock sessions. It's very unsettling because you just learn not to joke around with them even if they choose to with you. You don't know what to believe.
The second are those that realise it's pointless to act out everything, so they just be themselves - honest and frank. There's nothing wrong with either, I just think motivation works much better than intimidation, I sure would rather do something for or learn from someone I respect than someone who treats me like dirt.
Thankfully out of the sergeants in my platoon, three are of the latter kind, at least that's the impression I get after these 2 weeks.

Shine
Pen and paper
(Click to enlarge)

Let's see, what else was there. Blisters and pain from route marches. 5BX. Strength training with dumbells and medicine balls. Pegasus sounding like Raven when shouted. More gravy than meat in dishes. Gym training is an excuse for the PTI to expand his ego. Meeting people you grow to hate and people you grow to like. Getting 16 minutes for 2.4. Learning to control breathing while running. Twice-daily pull-up regime. Killer combat PT 2. The Legend and the Champion. Ridiculous swimming lessons...

I guess in all the army isn't as heartless as I imagined it to be - welfare seems to be the buzzword these days, I can see how certain sergeants could actually become envious or jealous of our treatment and decide to give us a hard time. But it's not as if we had a choice in enlisting anyway, at the end of the day, the officers and instructors are just like us, all human, we have families and lives to go back to, studies to attend to after ORD and so do they. I think if both parties could realise and respect such a fact, life would be much easier for everyone.

I don't know where this is going anymore... well I'm booking-in at 8.30 pm tonight, so see you guys on new years' weekend.

Because Christmas is about Christ. Going back to church for the first time in 5 years, I thought it'd be the best opportunity to receieve Christ once again. Actually coming to think of it it's the first real time I've ever done it, I didn't dare raise my hand before, or even walk down that aisle. It's also interesting on retrospect that I said early on this year that I'd like to go back to attending church this year because I'd need it for NS, who would've thought it'd be on Christmas day? There's no time to waste, nothing to lose, but I cried. There were tears in my eyes for some reason when the pastor was asking for backslided Christians to return to God, and I just cried when saying the prayer. It was as if I had so much to let out, and I don't even know exactly what it was. Well, anyways I don't intend to be just a Sunday-only Christian, this shall truly mark a new phase in my life. Whether or not I go to the same church, service or cell doesn't matter, it's between me and Him now.

Tomorrow, a new chapter of my life begins. As cliche as that sounds, it's actually very true; the loss of freedom, a new commitment, a responsibility thrown upon my shoulders - one that I don't even want to carry. Perhaps I worry too much, but I have to admit that I'm scared. I really don't know what to expect, I'm afraid to screw up, yet somehow I feel like I know it'll happen. Seems like ever since secondary school I've never been too happy with each new environment I was put into, be it classes, people, teachers, CCAs, or simply life as a whole; I kept feeling like I've been shortchanged and was always viewing others with envy, discontent or even hatred. I just don't know how to think anymore, it's just one bad thing after another. Yet on retrospect, it seems like I only grew to treasure things and realise that they "weren't that bad afterall" only after it's past. NS is sure to change my life, I just hope and pray that it'll be for the better and I'll learn to take things in stride and not be so angry about everything.

Well anyhow, I wish everyone all the best in whatever you do, God bless and take care and whatever. Any messages, leave them at the shoutbox. You could comment too but they won't be published as I won't be around for some time to do that, that means they can act as private messages too.
Alternatively, my email addresses can be found in the about section.
If it's something really urgent or important like, "I can get you out of NS right now!" Please text me via sms or just call me. I won't put my phone number here for obvious reasons (I've only just shaken off that anonymous crazy texter a couple of days ago), if you need it, ask my friends. (Actually, if you could really do that, just bloody do it)

Maybe it's only a figure of speech,
that has me casting an eye on anything and everything that is promising
Maybe my crime is as easy as this:
to walk away from a lie, to walk away from what is groaning within tonight

Maybe I've spent myself craving what proves to be a fallacy
I go hungry when I thought my plate to be full
and overflowing
and overflowing

If I've spoken the right words; fathomed mysteries, yet lack love
I am but nothing

I've faith for moving hills, everything and still I lack love
I am but nothing

I've choked back these tears again and again
Mustered some strength from that which astonishes
Then kiss shoulders for confidence grows there
I've taken much more to sobbing much quieter
Days turn to weeks
The irony thickens
How can one so strong be so broken within
It's grasping at clouds
It's chasing the wind
For nothing is found
Nothing is found out of love

Lay your life down here
For love worth embracing is found when one's laying down
For love worth embracing is found when one's laying down all we hold dear

Whence He Came - This Is Nothing

I think this song is great. There're no lyrics to be found online, so I just came up with a combination of what I can hear and what was from Still Amidst The Traffic's CD sleeve, which by the way didn't feature paragraphing in the lyrics, but it's very interesting because it has Chinese (Cantonese) versions of the words which do have proper formatting, and it's a great way to maybe get a better understanding of certain more cryptic phrases (because they actually tend to make more sense, save for the fact that they're in Traditional Chinese).

I went without sleep for over 24 hours just so that my Drawing and Painting paper would turn out alright, and it did, in my opinion anyway. I liked how the final piece turned out, it seemed like I was painting way too slow but by the midpoint (one and a half hours in) momentum picked up and it began to take shape - even though I was also in danger of dozing off by this stage, finding it almost painful to stay standing. Perhaps the composition might not have been the greatest ever, but I felt it fit in really well with the idea I was trying to convey - that a disorienting scene would lead the viewer to question his or her assumptions as to what is happening, thus deconstruction takes place on two levels, in the subject matter as well as the effect gained from the composition - even though I realise concepts don't exactly take centrestage in this paper and sure don't gain much credit.

Well I suppose it's good enough that I'm satisfied. Also considering that the whole paper was attempted without any tutor guidance, it turned out way better than expected with the final piece and preparatory studies combined. Actually on that issue, I don't understand why people aim for 10 pages of prep, that is absolute overkill, if you have done well for 2 years with just 5 or less, what's the difference this time round? If you know you can reach the A mark, or have the skills to do so, must you feel so insecure as to pour out everything within and prove that you're the best there ever has been? Or to prove that you've done more than anyone else? That you're "better" than everyone else? So is that what this has degraded into, while making "art", you have to constantly watch your back, or your peers rather, and make sure that you're staying ahead of the game; as if someone will pounce upon you at any moment and make you lose everything you have? Do you lose your marks as if someone else can take them away from you? If that is really the way this paper is graded, then I'd rather fail. Make no mistake, I'm not condemning my peers who've put in a lot of effort into their work, it's just that sometimes I really question the purpose and wisdom of such things, the fault lies as much with the student as with the system that breeds it. This paranoia, this kiasuism, competition, I can't stand it, and I won't fall into its senselessness no matter how much the world wants me to.

Here're my five anyway, nothing fancy I admit, may not even get me the grade I want, but right now I don't care for that anymore.





Paper 2 Prep work
(Click to enlarge)

To question the assumptions
When you see a still image of an action, how can you be sure of what is happening if you never saw that presumed action taking place? Certainly there will be visual clues that guide you towards a conclusion; motion blur, basic knowledge of physics, understanding human or mechanised anatomy, or the proven fact that the image is a true photograph. But what if none of these are there and all you gather from it turns out to be logical fallacy? What if that was the purpose of the image, an artwork, the artist, to challenge the convention of things?

To remove the existence of clues that lead to one developing preconceived ideas
Of course to emphasize the questioning of something supposedly understood as obvious, one would have to provide the means of communicating such a message. As you remove one set of clues that lead to preconceptions, you add another set to emphasize an alternative.
It may be a mess, it may turn out whimsical, or it may prove to be an enlightening piece of work. When familiar things are taken out of context, the meaning changes. How could the viewer be certain of what an artist means to say? Perhaps it is then the job of the artist, if a message is his intention, to pass that message on effectively.

To deconstruct
Thus I aim to challenge convention, with an image seemingly representative of constructivity, its process and message would be one of irony. What you witness isn't what you think it is, every thought process went into making you think precisely that way, and when you realise it, it will be true deconstruction in action.

Why do I waste my time?
In the midst of my terribly altered daily routine due to adopting a close to 12-hour shift in sleeping habits, I felt anxiety and panic for the first time. Yet there was also a feeling of lethargy, of carelessness. It was like an epiphany and flashback in one, realising what lay in the day ahead, I saw what was behind, as well as the future.

A future of scorn, of hardship, of shame.
How could I be so blind? Two years of this has always meant to culminate in an event which decides whether those very two years were productive or wasteful, regardless of the purpose - or lack of purpose - of it. What took me so long to realise, only on the eve of judgement, that this is the reason the meaning of things don't matter the slightest bit? If you were in the system for two years just to prove that you have wasted your time, what is the point of all your discontent? Doesn't it mean you have made your own unhappiness, wasted your own time? What do you prove other than that you're a fool?

I'm a fool, and I'm about to face the consequences.

Weakness is highly subjective, like good and evil. It exists in a state of competition, in comparison; for one to be weak, there must one which is strong. Are modern incompetencies weaknesses? Who dictates these criteria of judgement? Does majority make right? What purpose does this labelling serve? So many questions, so few answers.

The world is indeed ruthless, but all that was never actually far from my mind. It's then apparent perhaps, that this was and is all but a reaction towards personal weakness.

I am well aware of many shortcomings on my part, but I have no wish to belong to any association, clique, or establishment to cover up these so-called weaknesses. These groups still exist within their own world of disillusionment, hold their own prejudices, and lay out their laws. Weakness and strength is just measured using different rulers. Perhaps I'm one too idealistic for this world, but whoever made that something wrong too?

If I die, does it matter? That's a fact of life, ironically. But if I fail, does it matter? Why does it matter? Isn't it strange that survival, success and strength is still rated so highly in the supposed developed world of mankind. It simply went past the corporeal to the imaginary. And believe it, it is imaginary because you definitely will not find death from failing at writing some words to be judged weak or strong by someone.

Of course, if I were confident of making through what lay ahead, why would I talk about such things? However if you're wondering that now, you would've missed my point completely.

Even though a part of me yearns for the recognition and attention, and for all the compliments I do get about my coursework - what with teachers yesterday during Nanyang's open house "kowtowing" to me, congratulating me and stuff - I still feel a kind of unease, I don't think I'm all that good and I don't want the attention or people treating me as "god-like". Perhaps I fail to put things in perspective, perhaps I really don't realise just how good I really am, perhaps I want even more, but perhaps most true is that I'm just afraid of falling into a trap where my ego would overwhelm me.

I feel dead. I feel disgusted by myself for not being able to replicate any kind of goodness that could've come out of the piece, these days I just feel extremely uncreative and dead. I think about lots of things, carry much discontent with life, people and the world, yet the scope of what I draw is mostly confined to relatively simplistic and literal illustrations, usually images of war for mods and games. I want to do more, I want to make art that says more dammit. And with these sentiments, I often cannot help but feel that my inability to create is innate, when I see people my age or especially younger doing work I can't even begin to conceptualise, I feel like crying.

Tonight was great. Exposure is NJ AEP's coursework exhibition which I checked out this evening, and what can I say other than that it's awesome? At first it left me feeling rather defeated - if I could use such a word in this context - as in the midst of viewing all the art works, I realised once again how rigid, boxed-up, conservative, and suffocating NYJC AEP's environment is. I'm not even talking about the system, it's obvious in the students we have; all that apathy, superficiality, and all that "grade-mindedness" when it comes to the AEP, the system only serves to perpetuate and cultivate such mentalities. But anyways as I was saying, I came out of it feeling better than when i started.

It all struck me with the first thing I saw, and that was Yue Han's video piece (yeah the [almost] naked man) - it's all just so... different (both from what we do and what he did for his Os), not to say that the works are technically lacking, but while they're not overwhelming, they're at the same time so bold, so experimental, so awe-inspiring. I was actually discussing with William on the bus ride there about how environment matters so much, and you can see it in action, the creative atmosphere is just there when you see NJ's art block and its art studios, let alone the people. It's not because they make ground-breaking works, or that they're going to get good grades, or become famous, the thing is what they stand for: they stand for truth in visual expression and for freedom in art education.

Ah whatever, maybe for that reason I felt left out for a while, "un-artsy" and unincluded, ashamed of where I was from although it wasn't apparent, and even hateful of the way I can't speak up properly, but I'm glad I stayed on for so long because I later got a great (should I say exclusive?) tour/explanation by Benjamin - who probably doesn't even know my name yet, that's how friendly he is - and got to see their workspace and prep work. The coolest thing I think was that the teachers didn't even care if we (non-NJ people) were in there, and yes food is allowed (airconditioning doesn't seem to be a problem?). All these wouldn't have been that big a deal if I was fresh outta ACS(I), with our lounging around in the art teachers' mess and all, but I guess the rules at Nanyang have gotten to me.

Even stranger and quite surprising was to meet Cao Ye, I think we spoke more tonight than in our 2 years as classmates, he looks so different, so... cool, I guess TP design school does things to you huh. Also really great to have seen David and Kheng Siang, didn't think they'd turn up since it was already so late, we reminisced, exchanged some new experiences in art and had some good laughs, not helped in the least by Jerome's usual lameness (whose painting is great by the way). Just before I left we also met Cedric in army no. 4 uniform and all, what a small world it is, it's fascinating how so many people people previously thought unrelated could be brought and linked together by something so simple, something which I was even thinking of not attending. Well, I have no regrets, other than perhaps failing to ask more people along, especially the J1s, Veli thanks again for the invitation.

P.S. I believe the studio would be open during NJ's open house tomorrow as well, so those interested could probably still go see the works.