Out of the Stone-Age

Finally pulled myself out of the Stone-Age and shelled out for a Blu-Ray player. Can't believe how much prices have fallen. This thing I had girded myself to pay in excess of $2C for came in at less than $150. Yes, it's a simple model and apparently "smart" too. I thought that meant wi-fi "smart". It just turned out to be that it had a LAN port on the back. Eh, no wonder so cheap.

Happy hols, x13!

I have a good civics group this year. "Good" as in um, well, "good". Even our wild, informal college annual photo is trying very painfully to have some semblance of wildness and informality. I told them that based on our year-end results, we're not exactly the scholar types. Success doesn't come easily to us. Instead, we number among the majority that have to work like crazy just to remain afloat. But if I know this group, work ethic is something I don't have to worry about. It'll be a tough, uphill struggle against a steep learning curve next year in J2 and these guys will have their noses to the grindstone all the way. I'm proud of them now, and I know I'll be even prouder of them when we finally get to the end.

My jaded eyes

Finally coming down to the tail-end of supervising the kids' projects. Now it's time to assess the final submitted artifacts. Our rubric is based on a scale of expectations where the highest attainable band is at the point where the work produced surpasses what we could reasonably expect of it. And here, things get sticky. The more the kids seek the supervisor's advice, the higher the supervisor's expectations get. And this year, the kids have been exceptionally diligent.

Because neither they not I have left much room for personal insight and inspiration, I cannot honestly say that anyone's work has gone that step beyond. Sorry kids, but ironically this is one instance in which our hard work throughout the year has not paid off. Well, from my perspective, anyway. Hopefully, you'll be able to score more points in other parts of the assessment that other eyes (apart from my jaded ones) are prepared to be more generous towards.

Oil have nothing to do with that!

On Elim's recommendation, we purchased a bottle of salmon oil for the benefit of the animals' coats. Who wouldn't want their pets' fur to be luxuriant, smooth, fine and shag-carpet like? And what feline could resist the aroma of fresh fish essence? If I were a cat, I'd be clawing my owner's face off just to get at the bottle of tantalizing promise. But no, not my cats. They can stomach lizards, 'roaches and each other's vomit when we're not looking, but 5ml of SALMON oil a day they sniff suspiciously and gingerly back away like it's the Worst Thing on Earth! Fortunately, it's not going to waste. Q-tip just loves the stuff; can't get enough of it. Fine. Nice coat for the dog, then.

Games for playing and plays for watching

Finally, after a long drought of worthy PC games available on the market, suddenly the floodgates have opened and now I am spoiled for choice. Great timing too, 'cos I would have been too busy to give any of the above much attention anyway. But once this week is over and the year starts winding down, there's enough material here to keep me off the streets and out of trouble. XD

Caught the 'Richard III' last night with Mel. Very efficient presentation using minimal set. Just a quick arrangement of a few furniture elements to depict spatial and power relationships between the players make amazingly diverse scene changes quickly.

'Richard III' is usually played to test the boundaries of the Elizabethan Era M18 rating for violent content, though the violence was mostly sanitized by abstractions in Mendes' version. Here, the plots laid bare by Kevin Spacey playing Richard III reveal the inner workings of a twisted supervillain's mind, and seeing how they pan out in reality is what's fun. The bodies are really just a foregone conclusion.

Dark humour abounds with the juxtaposition between lines laden with intense drama and snarkily casual asides. It shows the awkwardly human cracks in the many social masks that Gloucester (a.k.a., Richard III) deftly switches between on his painful and bloody climb to the top of the Royal heap.

Great play, glad I caught it. But the real drama of the evening took place right after curtain-call with Spacey halting the applause to pay a personal tribute to his high school drama teacher whose early mentorship encouraged the development of Kevin Spacey, the actor of stage and film that we know today. Oh, did I mention that said teacher was seated in the audience with us, having flown in from Taiwan to audit the performance? Yes, that puts a context to what would otherwise have been an odd outburst onstage. And with the tribute came a rallying call to continue supporting Arts Education in school today! Can I have an "amen" to that, brother?

Left behind

What do you say to the kids who have found out that their final grades don't permit them to move up to JC2 along with their friends in the coming year? In a system that thrives on its rigour, education here inevitably brings about casualties. In situations like these, all I can do as CT is to help the distraught adjust to their situation and encourage positive thinking so that they can bounce back from this, their first truly major setback in life.

Honestly, it is better to face retention in JC1 now than it is to receive an unsatisfactory grade at the 'A's in JC2 next year. Although that's not very comforting right now, there is wisdom in the statement.

I wonder if I should tell them about my own horrendous experiences as a student of their age? I've not decided yet whether that would cheer them up or depress them further.

Meantime, the kids who are movin' up have to deal with survivor's guilt. I have an emo class.

Flames! Flames!

Beware the humble chilli padi. You are looking at a saucer of light soy sauce within which luxuriously soaks -- not a just a run-of-the-mill assassin -- but a consummate artist of genocide poised and ready to smite the unwary casual diner. Me.

This deceptively innocuous condiment is usually served sliced into fine rings. The moment I put just one little slice into my mouth to accompany a spoonful of bee hoon, there was an eruption of pure pain. Tears gushed forth in a futile bid to quash the flames... 

and of all times, the kopitiam auntie just happened by right then and asked if I wanted a drink. Of course I bloody wanted a drink! But with all the coughing, spluttering and choking going on, it took a while to translate.

The effect of that single crimson fragment lasted minutes! Needless to say, though as a habit I polish off the ordinary side servings, out of respect for the Deiety of capsaicin (whose divine presence I unmistakably discerned at the table set before me), I left this unholy relish undefiled for the remainder of my meal.

Sticky fingers

The time after morning service doesn't usually get any more dramatic than what happened today. During the post-service breakfast, some auntie looking person was caught brazenly walking off with someone else's handbag. There was a confrontation, protests of innocence and counter-accusations of persecution which continued until the police arrived on the scene. A harried police officer had his hands full ascertaining the facts of the case from the increasingly hysterical suspect and the equally excited crowd of witnesses standing around her, preventing any possibility of escape. It eventually ended in handcuffs and a ride to the nearest cop shop for the perp.

While the church has the power to forgive people's moral failings, the social and legal consequences of crime still have to be dealt with by the secular Authorities. Such is the separation of Church and State.

Oh, the trudgery

New strategy for thrice a week workouts now that I've restarted my fitness plan. Recent bouts of ill-health suggest to me that working on building strength is doing diddly-squat for my overall well-being. Endurance, instead, is my current goal:

Treadmill. 5 kph walking speed. Incline level 6. 1 hour duration.

I hate treadmills and exercise bikes 'cos they get repetitive and boring after a while. Running in a hamster wheel, after all, can only keep me entertained for... oh... 2 minutes at a stretch. So, how to sustain a whole hour? Combine the trudging with reading trashy books downloaded into my trusty e-reader. Solves two problems at a once: keeping me motivated to walk up a decent sweat and finding time to read beyond that which needs to be graded.

If this stupid itchy-throat cough that I've been nursing for more than a week already will go away in the next couple of days, it's probably a sign that I'm on the right track.

Far-flung relatives

Kid bro's wedding has attracted some international attention. Some of our more far-flung relatives have flown in to witness the occasion, and are now staying on to take in the sights.

As anticipated, Aunt S is putting up at our place -- our first houseguest ever. We were worried about how she would adapt to our menagerie, hygiene-conscious as she is, but Q-tip and Maui have been good ambassadors of goodwill so far. A peaceful coexistence is possible over the next few days.

We're back at the Fullerton (left) for English afternoon tea with Aunt S. All the tea you can drink, all the pretty little finger foods you can stuff your face with in both sweet and savory varieties.

From the Fullerton, our little party took a stroll around the Bay to gawk at MBS, before cruising back to the Fullerton by river-taxi. Mental note: Aunt S does not like long walks in our muggy, hot weather. Guess the afternoon climb up Bukit Timah Hill will have to be taken off the itinerary, then. Oh, well.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

Wild animals have broken loose from their cages. The human caretaker is found dead of as yet unstated causes. Schools are closed and there's a sort of self-imposed curfew after dark 'cos no one knows what's lurking around the corner looking for an easy meal. Sounds like the plot of Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Or maybe Madagascar. If it's the latter, I'd keep an eye out for the penguins.

Edit 01:
Oh, crap! It was funny before, but I didn't expect this story to end in a massacre! :'(

Baton passed at last

Little bro taketh up the hand of his betrothed, and with this ring, he she wed.

If you're wondering about the gauzy background, it's because they're taking their vows in a Sukkot (a temporary tent-like shelter) in honour of the Feast of Tabernacles which falls this week.

Apart from the line-dancing to "Hava Nagila"and the smashing of crockery, this wedding was pretty much Jewish themed. From the Hebraic marching music to the occasional blasts of the shofars (ram's horn trumpets), to the waving of banners and gymnastic ribbons by the younger members of the service, cooler heads thankfully called off the plan for circumcisions all-round.

Presiding minister, Rev Koon, took the opportunity to illustrate the significance of the Jewish wedding tradition to the Gospel message through both an improvised roleplay as well as the actual marriage ceremony itself.

It was a lively service that some people earnestly wanted to last forever... 

So after a couple of extended final choruses, we eventually proceeded with the business of formal photo-taking and the lunch reception.

And that's it! With my bro married off, our previous generation can now rest easy as the last male heir of my generation can now go about extending the family line into the next generation.

A fistful of flora

Finally, the last member of my generation is getting hitched! My very own kid bro will say, "I do", in the morning. Today, I drove June and May around to Sing See Soon Flowers and GG Fresh Flower, where we collected these white roses and other flora. We're counting on May's expertise to create the blushing bride's hand bouquet (above)...,

the bridesmaid's wrist corsage, as well as the VIPs' lapel corsages. The final products are chillin' in the study overnight where they should be safe from the undue attention of curious cats. One cool, refreshing night's sleep before being delivered bright and early at the wedding tomorrow.

Trapped with Norwegian dudes

Trapped on a research station during a blizzard in the Antarctic along with a small handful of fellow shut-ins, one or more of whom may not be what they appear to be. The Thing (2011), as did its previous two makes explores human paranoia in a castaway society, where predator and prey switch roles in a heartbeat.

A movie like this relies on constantly rising tension, building up moments of anticipation which it does quite well initially, both in the surprising attacks by the predator and by what human beings will do to each other when they're terrified out of their wits.

However, once the Thing has fully revealed itself, the tension drops off somewhat as it becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, with both parties equally capable of putting the hurt on each other. The cast list also suffers from having one too many Olafs -- Norwegian dudes who aren't so distinct from each other that it's hard to keep track of who's who before they fall victim to the madness of an alien first contact gone terribly wrong.

When the Thing starts rampaging around like a bull in a China shop, that's pretty much the end of the tension, turning a horror classic into something of an action movie with the diminutive character of Kate (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) being the quick-thinking survivalist who makes it to the end (eh, that's not really a spoiler, is it?).

But it's during the scenes interspersed with the closing credits that all the clues start falling into place, and the significance of the events that had just taken place is revealed. Because it was hidden in plain sight, the last surprise was for me the biggest surprise of all.

... wait. What? You knew it all along? Well, I didn't read the literature on the movie before I watched it. Who asked you?

dNYel cook-off

dNYel bonding exercise took us to SoEZ Cooking Studio where in teams of four we learned to prepare a three-course set meal. Drawn at random, with me were Liz, Mdm Joojoo and Gladys. They're not people I normally work with, but each of us found a niche in the team to occupy. Since it was better for me not to handle sharp objects, SGL and Gladys focused on cubing, julienning and baton-ing the vegetables. Liz rescued my earlier attempt at making the sauce, which left me stirring the pot and timing when to throw what in next.

On arrival, the workstations were already laid out with the necessary ingredients in mostly the right quantities. Kitchen paraphernalia neatly arranged within easy reach. If you can't find something, it's probably in the shelf underneath the work surface. The instructor chef gives a demo of preparing the more complicated course, then we're on our own to interpret the given recipes from which we had to cook up our own culinary creations.

The instructions in the recipes were a bit vague, though. Specific quantities were not mentioned, so I didn't know that we needed to divide the chicken stock into three parts: one for the minestrone, one for boiling the vegetables that formed the bed and garnish for... the sauce the cod was supposed to be basted in. Result: while the others ended up with a pan poached cod, my group served cod stew instead. Observe below:

Cod and vegetables, served slightly underdone with a topping of weak, light soy sauce-based gravy. Just the way I like it. The veggies on the right is a fresh, crispy cold pumpkin salad. Raw pumpkin soaked in ice-water has a nice crunch, quite refreshing to nibble on. And minestrone with a touch too much salt under guess who's liberal hand.

Reflective of dNYel itself, I daresay we did ok despite the vagueness of our task instructions. Although not exactly award-winning, we still pulled off a "tolerably edible" rating... at least, by my standards.

enRaged and barfy

Grading media vs violence essay question inspired me to buy Rage. Now I can take it all out on the muties and bandits wandering around a post-apocalyptic wasteland while I attempt to complete random find-fetch-and-carry tasks for the friendly people in the neighbourhood. You build a sense of community very quickly with people who will provide survival gear, weapons, ammo and vehicles, though why they don't take the initiative to do things for themselves is beyond me.

But with my schedule, I've barely scratched the surface of what looks to be a deep, involving campaign. The depth comes from a huge number of gameplay choices available to the player. There are many weapons and ammo loadouts to master; vehicular combat and/or stunt-racing; and probably a few optional mini-games as well. Lots of loot to pick up too: different combinations of which offer weapon upgrades; survival tools or sellable items from which to purchase upgrades and um, more stuff.

Enemy AI is quite proficient at duck and cover, costing valuable ammo, so for a player like me, patience is the biggest virtue. It's also the biggest virtue because -- as long-time readers can remind me -- FPS games cause motion-sickness. Why do I never remember this before plunking down money on games that make me feel on the inside what the muties look like on the outside once I'm through with them? I'm going to have to take this game one mission at a time, and that looks like my Christmas holiday assignment this year.

And THAT's what I think of media-violence essays.

Day for weddings

Look what showed up downstairs! So that's what our fleet of ageing London cabs can be put to work as -- when they retire in 2012.

Here's a bit more detail of the front.

I doubt this one came for anyone I know, although I'll be attending nephew Lion's wedding dinner this evening. "Lion" was how he pronounced his name when he was a toddler. But he's all growed up now.

Faster and with less pleasure

Our kids are lacking in information literacy. Specifically, the article says,

"their lack of aptitude to cite the sources of information used were of particular concern.

The participants were also found to be lacking in the abilities to compare information with other sources and to form critical assessments from the information."

And this study was on secondary school students.

Judging from the essays I'm grading, things aren't much better at JC level. Despite the critical reading skills that we teach in class, many of our kids are still falling back on the one method that brought them success at the previous milestone exam: memorization of 'model essays'.

There is no other explanation for why one after another the essays I'm reading are almost carbon-copies of each other. Though not necessarily word-for-word, they are identical point-for-point. And they have no critical engagement with the question they are addressing. While they may be valid points for identifying the general causes of violence, they need to be adapted to answer the current question which is asking about the reasons for the INCREASE in violence today. Ooh... subtle.

It's the study culture of non-critical cramming that's ruining our young minds. It stems from a mistrust of our own abilities and an over-reliance on the brilliance of others. So even though we haven't a clue as to what we're studying, if it was good enough to get the previous model student an 'A', it's good enough for us to say the same thing and score an 'A' as well. While this strategy may work for subjects that don't vary their questions much from year to year, it's disastrous for subjects like GP which wildly fluctuates from even assignment to assignment.

Kids, the reason why you hate studying is because you don't engage the subjects themselves. You're not playing the game -- you're spending time and effort working out the combination to unlock 'GOD Mode'... which doesn't exist. What? You'll only be confident enough to play when you've activated God Mode? Where's the fun in that? Sure, you'll get to the end, but instead of learning the cool moves and sick skillz that'll impress your friends and mesmerize the chicks, you'll just be grinding away and wonder what that was all about when the final cutscene starts scrolling credits.

As for the article, we are teaching the kids to cite their sources, and to make critical comparisons between texts at JC level. But the kids have to help themselves too. Stop blowing us off when we teach you to think and make decisions. And, for goodness sake, stop memorizing essays. It deadens your mind faster and with less pleasure than marijuana. In case you haven't noticed, you've already grown a full set of teeth, hence you don't need to rely on predigested goop any more.

Just keep swimming

Another of our number has left the nest. In pursuit of Graduate education goes B-lo, taking a year off to be an irresponsible student again. It's good to get out of the fishbowl and go swim in the ocean for a while. Either you grow to appreciate the fishbowl more, or you discover options you never thought you could have. Either way, just a year out is usually quite a life-changing experience already.

What did four-and-a-half years turn me into? Well, I really liked it out there, but I put roots back in the fishbowl because this little fishbowl is being inexorably swallowed up by the ocean, whether the residents here like it or not. The gameplan here is to make use of my experience in the ocean to prepare as many as I can to cope with the imminent sea-change.

So, I may not have any biological offspring, but I'll settle for intellectual progeny. From this batch of exam scripts that I'm currently grading... it looks like I'm not going to have many.

There is only one egg

A bit slow to weigh in on new boss' new direction towards this 'values-driven education' thingy, but... here we go.

I don't mean to sound fatalistic, but it's not going to happen. Schools can do what they want to make course corrections on policy and implementation, and it will affect millennia of Asian generational upbringing not in the least.

At the very heart of it -- and taken to absurd extremes -- is our emphasis on competition among the multitudes for the few coveted spaces in our tertiary education institutions, with the carrot of a cushy job and pots of income for the tiny elite that make it to the end of the rainbow.

I guess we never grow out of the primal memory that we were once a sperm cell, rushing and jostling against millions of our fellows and brethren, seeking sole entry into the haven of a solitary ovum. Heh.What haven? We got born, didn't we? And the race has begun all over again.

Among the paltry few mythologies S'poreans have, this most nonsensical one appears to be the primary motivator of our actions from cradle to grave. It drives family life as long as the family has offspring. It keeps the wheels of Education turning (and us employed), always comparing, assessing, measuring, testing; every level a filter that fewer and fewer are able to pass through.

In this caustic environment, everyone is a potential rival, if not an outright enemy. Every classmate sets a new hi-score on the climb up the leaderboard; every teacher is a level boss whose task is to prevent the unworthy from entry into the next grade. Education here isn't as much a game as it is a grind, a cycle of repetitive tasks for the sake of leveling up. It's a dry, boring, solitary experience for the solo player.

Most of our kids play solo. Whether self or externally motivated, they are often cut off from socializing (for fear of 'bad influences'); most media (expensive, frivolous); even books (the fun types) because their time is better spent in isolated study (no distractions). So when they happen to have some time on their hands, they're occasionally stunned into inaction, or go overboard with their indulgences; yet guilty all the while because there's still a textbook to be read or notes to be copied or math to practice.

Ok, before I start sounding like a bad GP essay, what values come to the fore in this sort of growing-up experience? Mostly, the selfish sort. Personal survival takes precedence over all other considerations. Privileges and rights are earned (the corollary being that the less privileged didn't work hard enough to deserve privileges others enjoy). "No one owes us a living", so we're not likely to bend over backwards for anyone either. This is all starting to sound familiar.

So, a "values-driven education" in the real sense is quite at the opposite end of where our current direction is taking us. The boss is calling for us to figure out how to introduce multiplayer mode in what has always been a single-player game. Not that we haven't tried before... the attempt to engage students in collaborative projects very quickly degenerated into a multiplayer king-of-the-hill fragfest as even teammates felt the pressure to outdo one another... for the sake of limited places in the local universities. It's one of our more spectacular failures in social engineering at the post-secondary level.

If we're sincere about making this thing work, we have to take concrete steps to end this run-amok Darwinism at the root of our society. Yes, tough competition is a reality, but the boundaries of competition have to be made clear. Our kids must be able to tell friend from foe, to see in their threatboards some green dots among the swarm of reds.

Multiplayer co-op is the way to go.

At the very least, schools have to stop pitting their own students against each other, so that within the area where everyone wears the same colours we can recognize that we're playing on the same team. Hence, we can support each other, share the resources and engage in the learning together, without the fear that our fellows will take and use our best efforts against us at the final exam. "Us against them" is still a step closer to fostering a functional community spirit than "me against the world".

In the meantime, there is a movement from the rest of us in the wider community to refrain from fertilizing any more eggs until this current situation can regain some sanity. For us, we've already paid our dues in school and we've done decently well for ourselves as it is. Life is good for us. Good enough to say, "bugger it. We're not playing this stupid game any more. So there!" Thankfully, our pets don't have to go to school.