Grim tidings indeed, as anticipated from the news we received last night. College started the day with one member short. One of our students had passed away and that fact alone is already hard to deal with.

At 16, that just isn't the time to go. What does anyone know about life at 60, let alone 16? It's all potential lost: the sights that will never be seen, the journeys that will never be taken, the love never to be found... and this 'never' is the extreme absolute that we try our hardest to deny whilst we live and write GP essays.

I didn't know her personally, she was just another face in the crowd to me. But people I know knew her and their grief was mine as well. As with Mim, and John, another space in our hearts has hollowed out with the passing of this little girl. And perhaps it's harder because she was a student. I may not have known her, but still, the pain of her loss is nonetheless tangible to me because she was one of us.

Condolences and prayers to her family and friends; those who loved her.

Last chance to vote for our college blogsite. As it is, we're just barely in the running for the Grand Finals numbering 5th in position in the latest rankings. Our blog may be disorganized and may lack a clear focus, but it has content that deserves an eyeball at least. StrangeFae's mad rants lack polish and subtlety but her enthusiasm in letting fly on her topic du jour is quite amusing. Anyway, I think so.

Today's the last day to vote so if you are feeling charitable to our cause and like our schtik, voting procedure is as follows:

Grab your favourite cell phone and follow the instructions here. Thanks for your support!

I must be more competitive than I thought. I'm mad with myself for achieving my competition 3-game average of 140 pinfalls today. To maintain one's personal achievement levels in a competition should be considered a satisfactory performance, but at this level this kind of average simply cannot make it. It's doubly annoying as I've been able to turn in much better scores during practice but when it really counts I go back to "normal" again. And today, I was struggling to maintain too. Bad stuff.

Talked with Amy and we agreed that this week is full of negative energy. Just look at my last few entries, scripted right out of blahdom. Worse things are afoot, but I'm not exactly sure what's happening. Until I get a better handle on things, we're all just going to have to wait in suspense.

Meantime, here are a couple of useful quotes from The Island:
"Just because you want to eat the burger doesn't mean you want to meet the cow," and "Humans will do anything to survive" and the not-so-subtle hint that Microsoft owns the world. Hmm... pretty much sums up the whole movie. Don't get me wrong, I liked the concept, the action and the eye candy (Scarlett Johansson... yummy) but the was just this one thing that I couldn't buy. It's bad for human beings who want to live to kill clones for their spare parts, but it's ok for clones who want to live to kill human beings who are after them, at least the movie biases the audience that way. Shouldn't we look at killing as killing? The double standard seems unfair, but hey, it's just a movie, right?

I'm usually immune to the effects of caffeine but I may have overdone it today. 2 cups of machine-brew for breakfast, 1 hand-poured teh tarik at lunch (the mutton byriani was fabulous at this run-down looking coffee-shop on Hill Street, BTW) and immediately followed by a large brewed Nescafe 'cos NBS and I were early for class and wanted to kill time without wandering aimlessly downtown like lost souls. Result: a small headache while Mark continued lecturing on logic and argument construction.

Later, I discovered caffeine crash: a state of extreme drowsiness once the stay-awake effect has worn off. zzz...

I suppose there will be days when one is too tired, too lethargic to do any more than just curl up in bed and plough through a thick book. Days like this remind us that life isn't a laugh-a-minute and that rest is just as meaningful as activity. Considering what's coming up later this week, a day like this is a day to be grateful for.

Bowled at CSC now that the lanes have reopened again. Don't see much improvement, but anyway... Amy confirmed her 100+ average against all of us, though it must be noted that Anthony was without his regular ball and shoes today. She's throwing good first balls, and it's time to work on her spares. Ha ha. Easier said than done. We're not that great at converting spares, ourselves. Guys, it's time to lower Amy's handicap.

So after yesterday's insanity and today's training I'm physically tired. Various muscles aching all over the place. A spot on my left foot starting to hurt too. Comes and goes but this time it's making it's presence felt a bit more intensely. Tempted to get it x-rayed to see what's going on under the skin. No more training for me till the big game on Thursday. Must give myself time to recover.

Meantime, there's a half-blood prince awaiting my attention. Let's see how far I get this evening.

"He floats through the air with the greatest of ease
This mad inline skater; fear puts his mind in deep freeze.
Taking off feet first, he lands with a thud
Bruised, battered and bloody, his face in the mud"
Xmac (1965-? well, not for much longer if this keeps up)

If ever I thought I knew anything about inline skating, today proved to be a most humbling experience. Fine, I can roll forwards, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. I can stop on a dime with a spin and a flourish. But only on flat straight pathways like those on ECP.

Sembawang Park proved to be an unforgiving tutor with its seemingly gently rolling slopes and generally clear pathways. Then you have this mad geezer on ankle wheels thinking, "hey, no prob, I've done this before."

People know. They know it the instant they see someone on wobbly wheels. They clear the path. They grab their children, tricycles, strollers and their maids and head for high ground. Then at a safe distance, their eyes fix on the fireball careening down and through the location they had just vacated seconds ago. Seconds later, said fireball makes its inevitable impact with Planet Earth, lying there in a crumpled heap while the crater created on collision smokes silently around him.

He laughs as he picks himself up again, though internally he'd rather say, "F@*K!!!" There are children present after all.

He gets up, appraises the new damage to his person and rolls on, hoping to learn what to do the next time, but he never learns.

This event repeats itself several times in the space of maybe 20 minutes. Then finally, after muscles start cramping, lacerations start to sting and a sudden rainstorm washes the blood off the footpaths, he decides it's probably best to go home, defeated.

First off, I'm supremely grateful for the armoured protection I wore, especially my combination gloves-wrist guard. I could have had shattered my forearm on my first fall if the plastic guard hadn't been there to take the shock. I wasn't wearing elbow guards so my elbows are nicely scraped now. Hao lian, lah.

But my last fall to Earth must have been my most spectacular. I flew down a slope knowing I had to brake but muscles refused to respond to mental commands. At the bottom of the path before it slightly slopes up again was a stone bench, and I suddenly imagined the consequences of crashing into it at the speed I was going. The fear made me totally lose control and my legs went completely out from under me sending me into a double-drop kick without a target to break my fall -- except for the stone park bench. In mid-air I mentally prepared myself for impact and somehow or other landed on my butt on the footpath in front of the bench, missing it. I was afraid that I could still spin toward it but I had come to a complete stop (my guardian angel works overtime for me *silent thanks).

Maybe I should just stick to the safe but crowded pathways of ECP. Or take inline lessons. Hmmm...

Another late entry. Drama Club did its thing at the Library @ Esplanade Open Mic show along with items presented by another set of performing groups. I guess I've been influenced too much by Tina, but I really couldn't stomach what the other groups were doing. The first group presented a literary thesis on Lee's 'Mockingbird' -- someone's interpretation of the text rather than the text itself. It was didactic, pedantic even, it was plodding, anal and literal, and it was performed by a bunch of 10 year-olds whose parents must really have been proud. I suppose I should be more generous and appreciative of the effort, but I guess it just wasn't my thing.

The other group, thankfully, focused more on the text of 'Dog in the Night-Time' but it still subscribed to the notion that emoting=shouting. Drove me up the wall, particularly since the performance space is so intimate, the audience capacity so small and the amplification so loud. Decided to leave before the end to preserve my auditory senses for another few years.

Our piece was merciful to the audience in that it was just a short reading -- 10 minutes rather than the 30 we were allocated. Some texts are just not written to be read aloud, as Mel quickly discovered during rehearsals. In 'Tangerine' the atmosphere and location are way more interesting than the story of Nick and his standing around and just looking at things. So I decided to make it a movement piece in which the camera lens focused on the background and left the foreground action (of which there was actually very little anyway) blurry. Our kids could have been sharper and more decisive with their movement details, but they delivered and the audience sometimes got our gags, which is gratifying.

Maybe that's the problem with the other groups, they took things and themselves too seriously. But then they could always say that we didn't take things seriously enough too. Which is the more preferable? Me, I go for enjoyment. We could have used a few more rehearsals to polish, but I think what we have is a script that's worth preserving and recreating for another audience at another time. Open Rehearsal Performance in Sept? Must ask Tina.

Amy and Yee, thanks for dropping by to give us your support! Your timing was absolutely spot-on!

Finally got to catch the Fantastic Four last night. So backdated I am with the movie scene.

I worried about how the presentation would turn out. I have been a long-time fan of the foursome and I felt there was no way any movie could capture the grand-scale adventures that the first family of superheroes always found themselves in.

Much credit to the director who knew the limits of his medium and focused his movie on the strongest feature of the four: family and friendship. Sure, the look was cheesy (self-referred to as "Armani meets astronaut," by the Torch himself) and the CGI no great shakes -- obviously cartoony and without any pretentions towards making them 'realistic' -- but it's the simplest, most ordinary of human relationships that hit us the hardest.

The frustration of the Invisible Girl, who can't make the man she loves see her the way she sees him. The frustration of the Torch with his enormous ego caged in by his own unadmitted sense of responsibility to his loved ones. The frustration of Mr Fantastic whose mind is a tyrannical ruler over his heart as far as the woman he loves is concerned, along with the guilt over the fate of his best friend. And the pathos of the perennially unfortunate member of the group, the Thing, whom Mike Chicklis plays with such sadness in his eyes that his sense of rejection and outcastness is almost palpable as he reaches down for his wife's cast off wedding ring and can't pick it up because his fingers have turned into bricks.

Doom, however, plays an odd role in this script. There was really no call to empower him with special 'powers.' In the comic books, he is already disturbing enough as a seriously twisted human being whose brilliance of mind makes him more than a match for the four combined. Luck is seldom on his side, though. Guess there wouldn't have been enough movie time to explore Doom's history properly so it just got conveniently subsumed under the same plotline as his nemeses'. That was disappointing.

One thing I had to question is the crowd's reaction to the chaos on the Brooklyn Bridge. There was so much damage, so many lives put at risk, not by any supervillain attack but just a chain of events caused inadvertently by the Thing. Yet when the danger passed, everyone cheered the four and they became celebrities. If it was the X-men, the story would have been different. Perhaps it's this fundamental plot thread following the four that it's impossible to make a dark Fantastic Four movie to compare with our favourite leather-clad mutants. Fortune favours the four.

The movie isn't just about a bunch of superheroes but about the coming together of a family, dysfunctional as they may be, who fight amongst themselves as often as they fight their enemies. In comicdom, the oft spoken tagline of the Fantastic Four reads, "They were the first, and they were the best." I wouldn't say that of this movie, but an open mind did bring both giggles and tears. It was a fun ride.

Flitting from flower to flower in its endless search for precious nectar, a little butterfly landed on my shoulder. It gently fanned my face with its wings while it rested there, and I appreciated its trust. I made no sudden move so it would not take fright and fly away too soon. But after a time, it did fly off. It had other flowers to visit, other places to beautify.

A moment to be treasured.

Boss Lady dropped in on me in class today to observe me at work. A bit nervous, but I muddled my way though thanks to the cooperation of the kids.

Yay! Finally collected the Potter book from the Post Office during a break between appointments in the afternoon. It won't be to my benefit, though. I'm still too busy to read it and I will still have to wait until June is ready to relinquish it back into my possession now that she has claimed first dibs.

Meantime, only Amy, June and I bowled tonight. Amy confirmed her improved standings with a 5-game average of 111, while I'm still at an unimpressive 145. June needs to practice throwing the ball more.

Oh... and despite numerous reminders, I have neglected my homework for tomorrow's SMU course. NBS will put me on her hit list since all the reminders came from her. Maybe I can squeeze in some time before classes tomorrow?

Another cycle has passed and a new one begins. Farewell to the Drama Club of '05, and welcome to the Drama Club of '06. Today the new exco got elected, into whose hands the reins of leadership has passed on. Congrats to Fran, Nyt and Des, the new face the Club will wear in the coming year.

The new Club is different from the batches that came before it. The members comprise people who are really interested in theatre, who want to experience the life of performance without the added lure of CCA points scoring -- a system that is now dead and long may it stay that way. The Club membership is small, but everyone is a hardworking, committed unit for whom the performance is more important than ego. This is not to run down the alumni who have delivered fabulously for us in previous years, but rather to voice my hopes that boundaries can be pushed further back in the coming year thanks to a group that has shown its ability right from the start that it can balance improv, fun and serious work for the sake of a good production.

Wish I could be as pleased with bowling training tonight. Personal average down to a level I haven't seen for a while. Still managed to beat Vince overall, but it wasn't the trashing I promised him yesterday. My 3rd game was so dire I lost to Amy who has improved her game considerably. Instead of a random game breaking the 100 mark, she posted a consistent above 100 average tonight over 5 games. If we had given her her usual 50-pin handicap, she would have been the one doing the trashing, leaving our fragile male egos shattered, scattered and trampled into the dust on the ground. Not a good night.

Game must pick up in tomorrow's practice. Tournament is next week, so better buck up!

Irritated. Frustrated. It's an emotional state that cannot adequately be expressed in words. It's something like having your own copy of the latest Potter book but it's locked up at the Post Office 'cos you're not free to collect it; or having a spanking new pair of inlines waiting for you to try them out on the weekend, but it's only Tuesday.

Things tantalizing within reach, but just out of touch.

The last weekend and a couple of other incidents before, I remembered the joy of movement powered by a once healthy body. The sweat, the huffy breath, the adrenaline. Now with muscles atrophying and joints stiffening it's a struggle to do all that stuff with the ease, confidence and form that 10 or so years ago I might have taken for granted.

I can still pretend that my 4th decade isn't rapidly charging towards me like a steer with a poker stuffed up its butt; that my life hadn't really began 10-15 years later than other normal people's, but the body doesn't lie. And sadly it doesn't forget either.

And it doesn't help either when your contemporaries from secondary school (class of '81) have finally tracked you down and started talk about a possible 25th anniversary reunion.

Can I stay in denial, just for another month? Please?

A really wet afternoon, but at least I can say that I have had a clean car for almost 24 hours before it rained. This event is a near world record and is worth noting on this page. The wet weather had me scrambling, umbrella in hand, to join Anthony and Vince at Acacia for lunch. I had to negotiate the numerous ankle-deep puddles in Bishan Park, trying as best as I could to keep my trainers dry. I hate wet shoes.

It's sad that few people eat at Acacia. This afternoon we occupied one table and had the full attention of the lone wait staff to ourselves. Just because the food tends to be too salty doesn't mean there's a need to have a general boycott of the place. You have a mouth, so just ask for less salt. I'm sure the chef will oblige.

Had to rush lunch as I was on duty at YJ, and I arrived just shy of my appointed briefing time. Anyway, I got caught up pretty quickly to what was going on, so that was ok. Listening Comprehension Exam. In Chinese. The exam text gets broadcast over the radio on the station playing Classical music, Symphony 92.4FM.

I guess there's a reason to use a serious radio channel for a serious exam, but the kids are seated at their venue just after lunch, half-an-hour before the paper commences, they're confined to their seats and maintain communication silence throughout. To hit their MTV-tuned minds with such "soothing music [qtd. from invigilators' instruction sheet]" and watch them slowly nod off to lala-land one-by-one seems like an inhumane thing to do. After all, shouldn't kids have the right to take their exam with a fresh, alert mind instead?

Maybe we should hit them with a dose of Good Charlotte or Green Day or Simple Plan instead so they'll stay awake and bopping for that interminably long lag period, and maybe it'll focus their minds on issues of social responsibility too while we're at it. Too bad it's not me making policy around here.

Lost my chance to collect my copy of the new Potter book again. I had it delivered to my Post Office instead of my home and for 2 days running I've been arriving a half-hour after closing time. That's kind'a frustrating. Mei says it's not worth my $40, but I've already paid for it so I'll have to enjoy it now like it or not. But first, let me get my hands on my copy!

Our Neverland Foursome met again tonight to watch War of the Worlds, which we had intended to watch since KL but never got around to doing so. It was a mad rush to catch the 7pm at Toa Payoh, at least for Vince and Amy. Let's not time it like that again, seems to be the consensus after today.

By our current set of expectations from a big-budget sci-fi blockbuster, the plotline from this Victorian age proto-sci-fi tale is ludicrously disappointing, and Spielberg's cutsey alien designs don't help much either in raising tension. But then again, as in similar stories, it's not the aliens we're meant to fear, but rather people in a crisis who simply lose their heads and become nasty, irrational, selfish and desperate, whatever they may have been before the crisis hits.

Other observations from WotW:
The New Yorkers standing around gawking as the first tripod rises from the ground parallels the behaviour of the beachgoers before the Tsunami hit.
The aliens are damn inefficient as exterminators -- those 2 beam weapons each tripod is equipped with will take forever to kill people off one at a time.
After an EMP attack, stalled cars get conveniently pushed to the side of the road clearing the way for other working vehicles.
In case you're wondering why Grandma's house (heck, her neighbourhood!) isn't affected by the goings-on in the world, it's because we need to look at the mythological resonances of 'Gramdma's house' rather then the literal. Grandma's house is the ultimate safe-haven. It promises reunion, conflict resolution, home and acceptance, the end of the journey, and so it is for our protagonist and his own. Else, how will we know when the movies over and we can go home... right?

Dropped in on Mike and Angela for breakfast and discovered that I am now an independently published 'auteur,' ahem, ahem. Mike Googled his kiosk and found my review from a couple of weeks back and he printed it out for his pin-up board. Thanks for the mutual publicity! *waves at Mike and Angela

Later in the afternoon, I acted on a classified ad I found in yesterday's papers -- inline skates (Nike, Rollerblade) 50-70% sale. The establishment was a 'blading school and it was packed so full of customers the staff was simply overwhelmed, swamped and frazzled. Customers helped themselves as best they could and kept replacing the sample models in the wrong display locations so that after a while it was impossible to tell which price was meant for which model. Chaos rulez!

Apparently, the mega discount applied to members of the school while the rest of us had to settle for a lesser discount. Fine. I'm in the market for a pair, anyway. I decided on the Rollerblade Aero 7 ALU

and though June thought it was below $150 (must have been put together with the wrong price tag) it actually cost slightly over $200, probably due to the aluminum frame as opposed to the cheaper plastic type. We also purchased 2 sets of protective gear to replace the old, tatty ones we once had.

And now, it's time to re-prioritize physical fitness back into my life!

"He floats through the air with the greatest of ease
The daring young man on the flying trapeze"
George Leybourne (1882-1884)

Another day of insane derring-do. Hong Choo's next on the hitch list so we took him to Sentosa for trapeze lessons before his big day.

It's like a Club Med set-up with suspended safety nets, but only one flying bar so solo "performances" only. There is a practice bar on which we all have to try out the tucking in of our legs into a rotation around the shoulders and finishing with a full body suspension hanging from the knees, hands free. After successfully mastering this maneuver (within tolerable parameters) we're ready for the real thing.

We climb to a narrow platform about 2 storeys high, safety belt securely around the waist. On the belt are 2 D-rings which the 2 ends of the safety rope clip onto. On the platform, the instructor talks us through the take-off procedure. He secures us by grabbing the back of the safety belt while we reach for the flying bar first with one hand then the other.

Teetering on the edge of the platform, we "step-off" while the instructor simultaneously lets go of the safety belt and we're feeling the rush of air against our faces in a moment of exhilarating freedom. Before we lose momentum, we have to think through the hang-by-the-knees maneuver and actually force our limbs to move accordingly, though poor timing, adrenaline, muscle fatigue and acrophobia make it even harder to execute than when we were still on the ground.

We learned 3 different kinds of dismounts so we went up 3 times each to try out each one. The first was a standard butt-first land-in-a-sitting-position, though most people still end up landing face-first instead. The second is a back-flip dismount: on the swing, feet together, kick forward once, kick backwards, tuck knees into chest and release bar. In theory, momentum spins the body 360° legs over head then we land again in a sitting position. In theory, anyway. Last, the flying dismount in which we remain suspended from the knees and at the apex of the "away" swing, release the knees and adopt a Superman flying position, belly landing.

Most of us -- especially the tourist kids who had joined our group -- managed to perform reasonably well. One nervous teenager landed head-first onto the safety net and bounced into an awkward somersault, which looked quite hilarious though it was probably embarrassing for her.

Group performance review: Martin: self-declared non-participant. Anthony: injured in training, sidelined. Hong Choo: set good example. Weng: credible. Luanne: lost momentum early. Ed: letting go issues. Me: form over substance.

The guys went up North for a seafood dinner. I took family (June & 2 dogs) home and gave Ed a lift back on the way. Muscles starting to hurt. Hmm... wonder who's next on the list to get married?

It's late, but now I can't get this thought out of my head. With regard to the furore over the case of Durai poTTer and the Fund of Kidneys -- and though I rarely do this -- I offer a little biblical insight that sort of settles it for me:

"Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn." Deuteronomy 25:4

Whatever follows from now, I hope it won't contravene this fundamental principle of employer-employee relations.

Nevertheless, easy for me to say, since I haven't contributed anything to the fund recently.

It's fun enlightening kids and seeing them respond with genuine comprehension. For some inexplicable reason, every project group seems bent on conducting a survey as part of their data collection process. Invariably, their survey mainly seeks info regarding the public approval of their project. It's like they want to prove to their supervisor that despite the advice given so far, as long as the public approves of their project, all will be well with the world.

What is the objective of the project? To create/devise/design/... whatever thing. Any idea as of now how to go about delivering what was promised? Umm... no... OK, how long will the survey process take from designing the questionnaire to collecting data to data analysis? 2 weeks? And so the survey results will most likely tell you what? Er... that people will like our project? And after 2 solid weeks of backbreaking work, will this information take you a few steps closer to learning how to make your project work? Er... no, just that people will like it or not... ooooohhh!

Oh well, a whole afternoon of that so it was most excellent when Anthony suggested we go chill at Settler's again. But parking there is mad. I drove around the block quite a few times, got my bearings screwed and got lost a couple of times. Eventually I gave up and parked at the lot I just happened to be passing on New Market Street. Walked the rest of the way to Settler's. Good thing it wasn't a long walk.

I had already had dinner so I contented myself with a small plate of "black pepper" fries and a RB float. Our group entertained ourselves with 'Apples to Apples,' a mix-n-match word game of random associations and hasty explanations.

A kick-back, laze around Friday evening. The weekend's finally here!

Good news! The Drama Club's performance isn't this Saturday after all, but next, 23 July. Which means I can have a life this weekend and still have a little more time to polish the production into something credible. As it is, judging by what the kids were coming up with at this afternoon's rehearsal, this movement piece is becoming increasingly watchable and there are moments when the ensemble actually offers some rib-tickling scenes.

With more polish and timing I think our presentation of "Tangerine" will be quite unusual and unexpected. Hope the audience gets it though. I am asking them to make a stretch of tolerance to sit through the whole thing. Must thank Mel for kindly doing the reading so I can concentrate on directing. I promised her an expensive dinner at "somewhere nice" for her sacrifice. Wonder if she'll hold me to my word?

Good to see that Amy's big project turned out quite nicely today. She'll score some major points for sure. She was in charge of the new council's investiture and it flowed quite smoothly, like clockwork. What helped was that there was no attempt to make the event appear more than it was. There have been previous similar ceremonies that became rather emotional affairs for the participants. They teared, some quietly sobbed behind their dignity, some had stiff jaws but trembling lips because it's hard for the exiting council to say goodbye amidst the recollection of memories both happy and painful.

This ceremony though just as dignified kept the tone light and perfunctory -- just a matter of remove badge, sit down for the outgoing councilors. The mandatory speeches were thankfully short utterances of politeness and quickly followed up by the next item on the agenda. The new council was sworn in and invested with the duties, responsibilities, rights and priviledges of councilors which they will fulfill to the best of their ability and partake of to the fullest of their capacity respectively. Plain and simple. Lovely.

If there was anything that bugged me, it was the sense that the ceremony might have been just a little over-rehearsed. Even the tribute song from the incumbents to the umm... out-go-bents was mechanical, lacking the spontaneity that it might have had. That's Amy's mania, I suppose. It's a good thing she hangs out with us, who every so often remind her not to take herself too seriously, to take it easy and not get too obsessive over protocol, or else she might become another [ex-colleague with control issues] and that, I think, would be tragic. Don't worry, Amy, we're not gonna let that happen to you. No way.

Embarked on another round of training for The New Subject. For this term, every Wednesday afternoon I will be on campus at the new SMU learning about critical thinking and logic in the hope that I will be able to acquire and use these skills for myself and then pass them on to my eager, young, bright-eyed apprentices come next year.

I'm really excited to be pioneering this new direction in education; to train students in thinking for themselves, to regain their natural curiosity for the world around them and to be able to relate their input and stimuli to a moral core and make well-reasoned judgments and take action accordingly. Proactive, independent, self-motivated students who care about what goes on around them and are willing and able to do something about it. All this from a 1-and-a-half year course + another half year of independent research. Well, that's what we hope we'll get, anyway.

Meantime, I'm learning all this new stuff about the different ways we can encounter, express and evaluate Truth (Veritas) and it's quite confusing and technical right now. Our instructor, Mark, assures us that we'll get better with practice so NBS and I will have to have frequent arguments with each other just to sharpen the tools that we use to extract truth. Ooo... verbal lightsabre duels, though as Mark reiterated several times, the 'argument' in this context is not for the purpose of 'winning' but for establishing the Truth.

Oops, tangential thought. From marking over 70 GP essays over the last week or so, we lament that the students tend to balance their arguments badly. They present schizophrenic cases allowing contradictory positions without dealing with the truth of the matter. This is akin to merely reporting on a quarrel between 2 parties with differing viewpoints and just leaving it as such without resolution. He said, She said... so what? A 'balanced' argument isn't just a matter of parroting 2 (or more) sides of a story. Any idiot can do this, no need to take the 'A' levels for this skill.

What do we do about a GP essay, then? We determine how the statement of inquiry (i.e., the essay question) contains only a partial truth and we apply to the statement the various parameters, conditions, circumstances, etc., that will make the statement true. We then use sound reasoning to prove the verity of the modified statement. No wonder GP is so tough, so hard to "score" in. We only teach them to 'balance,' and not how to deal with conflicting thoughts and patiently tease out the Truth for a better understanding and appreciation of life itself.

Thus enlightened, I went bowling with the guys again. Personal high game: 190. Personal average:>150 over 6 games. Quite ok, lah.

One last parting shot: Kids, take a lesson from June who's resting up her sprained back now. When you have to bend to pick up a heavy object, for goodness sake, bend your knees as you establish your grip, then straighten your legs to carry it up. DO NOT lift with your back or there will be... consequences.