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Archive for October, 2003

Nicely said..

exerpts from my lecture notes:
(this is why i like the lecturer so much)

<i>”Education, besides being a process, is also a cycle. it has enhanced our individual quality of life, with the subsequent hope and expectation that persons will put something back into society as educated and enlightened citizens. We expect more from persons who are educated. Despite it being a right, education is still something that we are fortunate and blessed to be able to obtain so easily in Singapore. There are still pockets around the world where children will never see the light of education. Of course there are also pockets here in Singapore that despite an education will still never see the light.”

“<b>Every Singaporean matters. Anyone can make a difference.</b>
This evoked recognition of individuals who do not conform to mainstream expectations of success, what we might call <b>off the beaten track</b> idea of success. This was an attempt to stem the growing elitism in society where the successful tended to be academically successful, and university graduates. Thus, praises were sung for those able to climb Mount Everest, train unruly monkeys, or stage a musical.”

“Since the 1990’s, Singapore has held among top rankings as the least corrupt nations in the world, and among the most transparent and corruption-free countries in Asia. This will hopefully remain as one of our strong selling-points: that our leaders are forthright, there is no “Mickey-Mouse”, and business dealings are straightforward. This might be compared with nations who might boast of an astounding human rights record and slam Singapore for NOT having one — gee, we cane people here — but have leaders who order pizza from charming interns with berets.”

“Being Number One is synonymous with Singapore. We are Number One for our harbour, airport, national carrier, most of everything I would say, except maybe food, but that’s a personal opinion.”

“What the government hopes to remake Singapore into is a nation of persons rooted to the land and who would die for something else besides their handphone, and private apartment with sauna and swimming pool — such as their country.”</i>

Arlene Bastion, in <i>Singapore in a Nutshell.</i>

the casio fx-D400

<u><b>hmm?</b></u>
rings no bells, you claim? well ask around a little and you’ll see that many people do remember this legendary calculator.

<u><b>what?</b></u>
released sometime in 1994, this little gem has remained, to date, one of the friendliest and most efficient models around. though lacking in more advanced features common in modern machines (phasor calculations, anyone?), it sports a breathtaking <b><i>78-digit</i> dot matrix</b> display, and a cushy 7 memory locations, as well as your usual base set of scientific and statistical functions, guaranteed to satisfy the even most discerning user. (unless, of course, you want to do phasor calculations.)

<u><b>why?</b></u>
most people found it rather novel when it was first released, as it bore no on-off switch. the “off” operation was implemented as a function of the calculator, pretty much unheard of in those days. also, it bore no “=” key, which puzzled the hell out of those unfamiliar with it. (actually, it DID have an “=” key, but it was implemented as the alpha function of the ANS key, and didn’t do what one might think it would.) it had, instead, a bright blue key labelled EXE, short for “execute”. way cool. the exponantial function got a button of its own, labelled “EXP”, and shared button space on the main keypad, also something new in those times.

<u><b>who?</b></u>
i did a little nosing around on the net, and found that numerous people are still posting messages at auction sites and bulletin boards in serach of this elusive calculator. nine years on.

yes, it’s that good.

and yes, i still have one. will part with it for $150.
*nyak nyak nyak*

=P

“mommy? fuck pikachu. i don’t want no fucking pokemon…”

was at the JP KFC with gavin having dinner just now, when this kid whom i’d fix at around 3 years old started to scream. at this, his dad promptly turned around and chided him thus:

“will you fucking shut up? don’t give me any of your fucking attics<i>(sic)</i>”

now i may have missed a memo or a fax or maybe the weekly e-newsletter, but hasn’t the first page out of the book of Good Parenting always said that swearing at your kids provides a negative learning environment?

maybe he’ll realise something’s wrong when his kid learns to spell “fuck” before “mommy”, or, if he’s bright enough, use both words in the same sentence.

Elliot Smith Dead at 34.

the guy suicided. gosh if you’ve ever heard any of his songs, you wouldn’t be surprised.

sibling love.

t r i N i (10:07 PM) :
WHERE’S MY TESTIMONIAL!

t r i N i (10:07 PM) :
i want RW disc!!!!!!!!!!!!!

t r i N i (10:07 PM) :
NOW!

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (10:07 PM) :
eh like what? my sister is a dweeb? will do.

t r i N i (10:07 PM) :
no! write me something nice

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (10:07 PM) :
..

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (10:07 PM) :
in your little world, everything revolves around you doesn’t it?
how cute, but wrong.

t r i N i (10:08 PM) :
basket.

t r i N i (10:08 PM) :
dun care abt u liao
i go study

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (10:08 PM) :
bubbye.

rants.

exams nearing. have broken out of that cushy, soul-comforting shell of self-denial and have started attempting to study. progress hindered by fact that i have attended approximately half of all lessons this sem. not good. am updating my journal when i should be reading my notes.

there’s a weird guy who stays in my block and likes to sing to himself. a lot. usually does so while on the move. or cooking. or in the toilet. and i don’t mean a discreet, under-one’s-breath hum. no, i’m talking about loud, audible singing. i’m talking about belting out with gusto, and for no audience in particular save the unfortunate passer-by. he knows no restraint when tackling the cresendoes. sigh.

somewhere else in this block lives a huge sized guy. from china. i usually postpone my morning rituals (brushing of teeth etc) when i sight him in the toilet. he’s the practical equivalent of two whales mating in a bathtub. when you’re unlucky enough to be next to him at the basins, chances are you’ll leave a much soggier person than when you first arrived, or ever intended to be. you KNOW he’s been there early in the morning when the mirror is spotted, the floor is slippery, and the walls are dripping wet. i swear. you never knew there could exist so much water in one spot anywhere in the world. God is great.

in other news:
bought an mp3 player off yahoo auctions. brand new. saved 60 bucks.

lala.

just finished re-arranging and cleaning my room. feels good, though now the room seems a lot smaller. hmph. shall do something about it tomorrow.

must… study…

Nohohon-Zoku!

happy!

seen those solar-powered toys with the large, slow, bobbing heads? Am now the proud owner of one.

something about it entrances me.

don’t know what it is?
see <a href=”http://www.gizmo-guru.com/coolstuff/hidamari_no_tami.htm”>here</a>.
be sure to click on the “See them in action” link. you’ll get a video!

This Is the Title of This Story, Which Is Also Found Several Times in the Story Itself.

By David Moser.

<lj-cut>This Is the Title of This Story, Which Is Also Found Several Times in the Story Itself

This is the first sentence of this story. This is the second sentence. This is the title of the story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence is questioning the intrinsic value of the first two sentences. This sentence is to inform you, in case you haven’t already realized it, that this is a self-referential story, that is, a story containing sentences that refer to their own structure and function. This is a sentence that provides an ending to the first paragraph.

This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a self-referential story. This sentence is introducing you to the protagonist of the story, a young boy named Billy. This sentence is telling you that Billy is blond and blue-eyed and American and twelve years old and strangling his mother. This sentence comments on the awkward nature of the self-referential narrative form while recognizing the strange and playful detachment it affords the writer. As if illustrating the point made by the last sentence, this sentence reminds us, with no trace of facetiousness, that children are a precious gift from God and that the world is a better place when graced by the unique joys and delights they bring to it.

This sentence describes Billy’s mother’s bulging eyes and protruding tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant choking and gagging noises she’s making. This sentence makes the observation that these are uncertain and difficult times, and that relationships, even seemingly deep-rooted and permanent ones, do have a tendency to break down.

Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence fragments. A sentence fragment. Another. Good device. Will be used more later.

This is actually the last sentence of the story but has been placed here by mistake. This is the title of the story, which is also found several times in the story itself. As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself in his bed transformered into a gigantic insect. This sentence informs you that the preceding sentence is from another story entirely (a much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at all in this particular narrative. Despite the claims of the preceding sentence, this sentences feels compelled to inform you that the story you are reading is in acuality “The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka, and hat the sentence referred to by the preceding sentence is the only sentence which does indeed belong in this story. This sentence overrides the preceding sentence by informing the reader (poor, confused wretch) that this piece of literature is actually the Declaration of Independence, but that the author, in a show of extreme negligence (if not malicious sabotage), has so far failed to include even one single sentence from that stirring document, although he has condescended to use a small sentence fragment, namely, “When in the course of human events”, embedded in quotation marks near the end of a sentence. Showing a keen awareness of the boredom and downright hostility of the average reader with regard to the pointless conceptual games indulged in by the preceding sentences, this sentence returns us at last to the scenario of the story by asking the question, “Why is Billy strangling his mother?” This sentence attempts to shed some light on the question posed by the preceding sentence but fails. <i>This</i> sentence, however, succeeds, in that it suggests a possible incestuous relationship between Billy and his mother and alludes to the concomitant Freudian complications any astute reader will immediately envision. Incest. The unspeakable taboo. The universal prohibition. Incest. And notice the sentence fragments? Good literary device. Will be used more later.

This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is the last sentence in a new paragraph.

This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or the end, depending on its placement. This is the title of the story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence raises a serious objection to the entire class of self-referential sentences that merely comment on their own function or placement within the story (e.g., the preceding four sentences), on the grounds that they are monotonously predictable, unforgivably self-indulgent, and merely serve to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which at the point seems to concern strangulation and incest and who knows what other delightful topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point out that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member of the class of self-referential sentences it objects to, nevertheless also serves merely to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which actually concerns Gregor Samsa’s inexplicable transformation into a gigantic insect (despite the vociferous counterclaims of other well-meaning although misinformed sentences). This sentence can serve as either the beginning of a paragraph or the end, depending on its placement.

This is the title of the story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This is almost the title of the story, which is found only once in the story itself. This sentence regretfully states that up to this point the self-referential mode of narrative has had a paralyzing effect on the actual progress of the story itself–that is, these sentences have been so concerned with analyzing themselves and their role in the story that they have failed by and large to perform their function as communicators of events and ideas that one hopes coalesce into a plot, character developement, etc.–in short, the very <i>raisons d’ĂȘtre</i> of any respectable, hardworking sentence in the midst of a piece of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points out the obvious analogy between the plight of these agonizingly self-aware sentences and similarly afflicted human beings, and it points out the analogous paralyzing effects wrought by excessive and tortured self-examination.

The purpose of this sentence (which can also serve as a paragraph) is to speculate that if the Declaration of Independence had been worded and structured as lackadaisically and incoherently as this story has been so far, there’s no telling what kind of warped libertine society we’d be living in now or to what depths of decadence the inhabitants of this country might have sunk, even to the point of deranged and debased writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome and needlessly prolix sentences that sometimes possess the questionable if not downright undesirable quality of referring to thmselves and they sometimes even become run-on sentences or exhibit other signs of inexcusably sloppy grammar like unneeded superfluous redundancies that almost certainly would have insidious effects on the lifestyle and morals of our impressionable youth, leading them to commit incest or even murder and maybe that’s why Billy is strangling his mother, because of sentences just like this one, which have no discernible goals or perspicuous purpose and just end up anywhere, even in mid

Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment. Twelve years old. This is a sentence that. Fragmented. And strangling his mother. Sorry, sorry. Bizarre. This. More fragments. This is it. Fragments. The title of this story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment after fragment. Harder. This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn good device.

The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1) to apologize for the unfortunate and inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding paragraph; (2) to assure you, the reader that it will not happen again; and (3) to reiterate the point that these are uncertain and difficult times and that aspects of language, even seemingly stable and deeply rooted ones such as syntax and meaning, do break down. This sentence adds nothing substantial to the sentiments of the preceding sentence but merely provides a concluding sentence to this paragraph, which otherwise might not have one.

This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of altruism, tries to abandon the self-referential mode but fails. This sentence tries again, but the attempt is doomed from the start.

This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some iota of story line into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly alludes to Billy’s frantic cover-up attempts, followed by a lyrical, touching, and beautifully written passage wherein Billy is reconciled with his father (thus resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts obvious to any astute reader) and a final exciting police chase scene during which Billy is accidentally shot and killed by a panicky rookie policeman who is coinceidentally named Billy. This sentence, although basically in complete sympathy with the laudable efforts of the preceding action-packed sentence, reminds the reader that such allusions to a story that doesn’t, in fact, yet exist are no substitute for the real thing and therefore will not get the author (indolent goof-off that he is) off the proverbial hook.

Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.

The purpose. Of this paragraph. Is to apologize. For its gratuitous use. Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.

The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the pointless and silly adolescent games indulged in by the preceding two paragraphs, and to express regret on the part of us, the more mature sentences, that the entire tone of this story is such that it can’t seem to communicate a simple, albeit sordid, scenario.

This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless apologies found in this story (this one included), which, although placed here ostensibly for the benefit of the more vexed readers, merely delay in a maddeningly recursive way the continuation of the by-now nearly forgotten story line.
This sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with news of the dire importance of self-reference as applied to sentences, a practice that could prove to be a veritable Pandora’s box of potential havoc, for if a sentence can refer or allude to itself, why not a lowly subordinate clause, perhaps this very clause? Or this sentence fragment? Or three words? Two words? One?
Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and with no trace of condescension remind us that these are indeed difficult and uncertain times and that in general people just aren’t nice enough to each other, and perhaps we, whether sentient human beings or sentient sentences, should just try harder. I mean, there is such a thing as free will, there has to be, and this sentence is proof of it! Neither this sentence nor you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of all the pitiless forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground, face facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder. By the throat. Harder. Harder, harder.
Sorry.

This is the title of the story, which is also found several times in the story itself.

This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is.

Sorry.</lj-cut>

two CE students discuss friendster

private final arnold aerotus;
private final me jeerleader;

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:48 PM) :
i mean.. so cool.
somewhere out there there’s this huge, holy grail of linked lists.

Aerotus (2:48 PM) :
i will nvr name my nodes with my frens name!!

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:49 PM) :
think of the adjacency matrix… then cower in awe.

Aerotus (2:49 PM) :
mebbe we can psycho TJC into setting as exam Qs..

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:49 PM) :
hahaha

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:49 PM) :
only a CE student will appreciate graph jokes.

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:50 PM) :
You are connected to 46,075 people in your Personal Network, through 14 friends.

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:51 PM) :
SOMETHING out there is doing this monitoring… in PARALLEL with ALL USER REQUESTS.

Aerotus (2:52 PM) :
why isnt there something out there that can make mi feel good about being in SCE rather than juz feel like a NERD or NODE??

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:53 PM) :
you ARE a node. deal with it. some memory space out there contains a pointer, probably named *arnold

thing arnold = new thing;

Aerotus (2:54 PM) :
slut gary = new slut

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:54 PM) :
and knowing that you are just a node, whereas the average human does not, should make you feel good.

sooner or later you’ll realise there is no spoon.

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:55 PM) :
.. as was the case when you tapaoed unagi for me yesterday

Aerotus (2:55 PM) :
this is sick… SICK!! i was comtemplating implenting two Slap threads…

Aerotus (2:56 PM) :
i also realised u still owe me $$$

*~*The Jeerleader*~* (2:57 PM) :
oh shaddap and sign up quick.

two slap threads aren’t enough. not for so many people. you haven’t had enough of being a node, you wanna be a monitor too?

synchronized public void arnold_get_slapped()

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