The endless hours...

I was promising myself I would do this post sometime. Finally here it is, and couldn't have come at a more suitable time too. Well, this post is strongly dedicated to the members of DHSAWC (or as some of you prefer, AWCRAP. heh heh.). Non-members can stop reading here. Joking lah.

Alright, now that I've started, where do I go on next? There's so much to say, so little time before I really want to go to sleep...

First thing that comes to my mind the moment someone mentions air rifle would be training. Training in the morning, training in the afternoon, and, most fun of all (some of you know) training at night. All crammed into the holidays. The time we spent was probably much more than most other CCAs in our school, since our competition, for some reason, comes much later than others. I know the time we have spent on this training was very long, and got frustrating when we don't have time for work or play. Mostly play right? Still, we persevered. Hard.

Let's go back a little further. Say, Term two and three. Training was not as bad then. Two, or for some three times a week. The problem then didn't lie in frequency, but really the time that ended. All of us always reached home after the sunset. Even I, one of the people living closest to CDANS (though not very close) never dreamed of reaching home before it turned pitch dark. But we seldom complained, we seldom grumbled. Even when training would stretch till unearthly hours, we didn't leave irresponsibly.

Further back again. 2006. That's a long time ago for me. I remember during the first training. Woah cool. I'm one of the only people who are soloing this CCA, and I was starting to feel really alone. Plop my bag down on the dusty chair and sat down beside it. Mdm Noora then asked me to take attendance. Good thing I started early, so I could get used to it faster. Before we shot, she picked up the gun and showed us how to hold it properly. Well, it wasn't really perfect, but it was kinda amazing. She put the butt of the gun to her right shoulder, held the grip and threw the gun up. It landed perfectly on her fist. All while pregnant. Woah cool.

That day was the first time when I saw people who were in the same CCA as me. It really was a long time ago, and think about it. Even seniors who, for some unfathomable reason, are reading this. Can you remember the first time that we actually met people from our CCA? What did it feel like holding the gun awkwardly? What were your first impressions of your team members?



Most of all, how much different does it feel now?



I've thought and reflected over these many times, and was really surprised at how much we've changed, both towards others and in ourselves. Before this year - actually, before I started taking attendance, I couldn't name a person in this CCA to save my life and and half of Singapore along with it. I simply had no idea who's name was which, and it took me a few weeks to be able to remember everyone's names. I still feel kinda guilty about it everytime I thought about that fact.

Also, shooting, I believe this is a sport that trains your discipline well. Most of us are very crazy in some way, be it in school, at home, or stuff like orientation or something. But the moment we start our shooting, everyone adopts a different attitude. I'm sure that this sport really has changed our attitudes and personality just the slightest bit, even though many of us probably don't recognise it. I do. If I wasn't in this, I'll be in trouble for skipping 32 out of 33 sessions of some UG for 2006. The 33rd being the first day.

I hope that everyone who is shooting nationals would read this before they do, but I highly doubt it, this being a highly obscure and deserted blog. But still, remember that at the very least, we still have each other's shoulders, we have each other's support, and we have each other's arms. Always wide open.

Most Awkward ever

Alright. I slept at ten the night before, woke up at seven in the morning and ran all the way to the bus stop to chase the damn bus and now I'm here. Early. Not to mention alone.

Sigh. I walked around a little more outside the General Office. Should I go in? Won't I kind of embarass myself just to ask "Where are the interviews held?" Then, I spotted a sign on a pillar which had a large arrow on it. The top said Interview Rooms.

I doubted they were looking for new staff, though it would have been fun to try to pass off as one. I followed it, going past the LT where I took the omgwthisthishelpsomebodyanybodygg entry tests, and up a staircase. Then, there it was. A short stretch of classrooms. Wow, now what?

No sign of ushers. Nobody to take down your name. Just a sign saying "Waiting Room" and another with "Interview Room". I entered the Waiting Room since I really wasn't too eager. It was designed very nicely actually. Looked like it was done by interior desginers or something.

Well, soon after, a man popped his head in through a door connecting the two rooms and asked "Are you Samuel?" I nodded, and he replied "This way please."

Closing the door behind me, I sat down. Well, first thing I noticed was how intimidating this interview was going to be. Two teachers, sat behind two small round tables placed together, and the chair I was supposed to sit at was half a metre away from them. It may not seem much in words, but just try imagining this situation. Or better yet, move around some furniture till you get that. You'll see what I mean.

I though I better not "conviniently" pull the chair forward as I sat down. After all, the point of interviews is to scare the hell out of the interviewee and make him (or rather, me) stutter over all the answers.

So then started the interview.

Note: I couldn't remember all the questions asked, but I'll put in what I can recall


1st Question: Why did you want to join the Student Council?

My answer: They actually asked that in the interview then, so let me recall... Well, I always thought myself as one of those cynical people who don't really appreciate the events planned for special occasions. For example, maybe during a Teacher's day concert, I would be the one trying my best not to fall asleep. So I hoped that through some first-hand experiences, I would be able to appreciate the effort put into planning, preparing for and carrying out the event.

Positive: Great work. The answer showed that you weren't afraid to pinpoint your own mistakes, and also showed that you were willing to put in effort into improve on your weak points.

Negative. Great work. Just great. You showed that you were simply reusing your answer from some time before, and that shows how LAZY you are. Go home! Hurry! Before they tell you to!



2nd, 3rd, 4th and idontknowhowmany Question: Did you go for the Open house?

A: No sir, I couldn't attend because I had CCA on that day.

Q: So you don't have a copy of the ?

A: I'm sorry? I didn't get that.

Q: You don't have a copy of the pamphlet?

A: No, I don't

Q: Then why did you still apply for the school since you don't really have a good idea of what its like?

(Oh great. I set myself up for the knockout punchline of the year. I have a nagging feeling these guys [actually one of them is a female] are history teachers.)

A: Well, most of what I know came from reputation and word of mouth. Quite a few people from my family came from VJC too, so I have heard quite alot from them, especially my sister.

Positive: That was quick thinking, pulling out your family. Not much to argue there.

Negative: Hell there's alot to argue. You just decided to apply based on what you've heard. Shows how much you know about the school.




Q: Well, can you tell us your sister's name?

A: Rachel Lee.

(Awkward silence. Teachers stare at each other.)

Positive: AHA! Not much to say to that eh? Don't even know who she is eh?

Negative: Seriously. This is the ONLY answer that I felt was great. Thank you, my sister.




Q: Well, anyway, back to the interview. Well then, from your "inside sources"(Getting sarcastic, aren't we?), what are three things you have heard that made you want to join this school?

A: Well, first of all, it would be the close relationship that is shared between the students and teachers here. It would really be rather meaningless for me to be in a school where the teachers do not even know their students well (Aha! Take that for sarcasm! Bet I practise more than you in class!), and this kind of environment isn't easy to find, so I value that alot.

Secondly, it would be that the school has already set up a very conducive learning environment for the students to study in. I've seen the many facilities provided, and I find that they are very useful and important, and are sufficient for both secondary and tertiary education.

Lastly, ermm.... (Q: Take your time, take your time...) Well, it would definitely be the high academic standards that have been achieved here. That assures me of a high quality and standard of education.

Positive: Wow. Boot licker of the year, eh? And I loved the first point. Came to me right away, since sarcasm is probably a part of me already, as my classmates should know.

Negative: Not a good idea to pause so long on the last point, but at least you came up with something.



Q: Well, now lets move on to the entry test. How did you find it?

A: The maths was still ok, but the English test was very... different.

Q: Different? How?

A: Well, out LA lessons basically focus on literature, rather than logic and reasoning, which was the focus of the paper.

Q: I see... Well, how did you think you did for them?
(At this point, the male teacher picked up a piece of paper and looked at it. I'm guessing it was the results. Took me some willpower not to point over his shoulder and say "Hey? What's that?", before grabbing it from his hands.)

A: Well, I don't think I did very well for the English test - maybe around 60-70%. But the maths test seemed a little easier, so I guess it should be around 70-80%.

Q: Well, that's all for today. Thanks for coming. Do you have any questions for us?

A: No. Thank you.

(Walk out.)

Wooo. That was scary. Probably the first interview where I actually stuttered and came so close to be unable to answer a question. If I get in, I'm gonna start playing the stock market.












No. No more prizes. Just noticed that many of my blog posts of something are always posted one or two days after the thing really happened. Sorry for the delay.

A happy family?

Well, an essay-like post about what I saw on the MRT today...

I tried to look like I was standing straight while slouching over a little, and used my bag to shield my rumbling stomach from the wind while waiting for what seemed like the longest 3 minutes of my life for the MRT to arrive. My stomach had been showing signs of pain in the morning, but I chose to ignore them. I should have chose differently.

My stomach was keeping me from taking a nap since I boarded the MRT 3 hours ago, and acted up again around an hour ago. Of all things, I was shooting halfway, when I felt it start to do a whole set of twists again. I had to take 10 minutes to unsuit and get to the toilet before returning to complete my 100-shots.

Soon after, when the shooting-detail ended, I decided to leave early since I wasn't in a state to continue for another 1 1/2 hours of dry-firing. Luckily, the bus came early, and there I was, waiting for the MRT.

The moment the annoying and ever-present "For your own safety..." message was played, all the passengers, as usual, decided to crowd around the entrances. When they finally squeezed in after knocking the people trying to exit the carriage, the first few rushed for the empty seats, while I heard others grunting or whining in dissappointment and annoyance.

I headed to the centre of the train (Wait. At this point, I discovered that I seem to be a very good and polite passenger! Do I, like, get a prize or something? They should set up and award for this! Anyway, back to the story...), I grabbed hold of one of the handles with my right hand, and used my bag to again shield my stomach from the air-con with my left.

I looked in front of me and saw a family occupying three seats. A little girl was sitting right between her mother and her father, who was holding a pram that contained a boy not over the age of 2. Nothing special or amazing about this, so I was about to nod off to sleep. Standing up. Shows how tired I was.

However, I suddenly noticed that the father had tattoos printed all over this hands and legs. Some of them were pictures of scantily clad girls, others were some arabic scripts, and one that was even more disturbing was chinese words that translated into "evil demon". Not exactly your average family dad.

The man looked half-asleep, more tired than me, even. His eyes were closed as he held on to the pram. The little girl was playing with her baby brother, while the mother was watching them. Once again, I was about to continue my nap when again I saw something even more astonishing.

As the girl started clapping her hands, I noticed that there were scars on a few of the fingers. More on her legs. They seemed rather old, some of them look like they've been cut or injured at the same spots over and over again. Well, I, sad to say, made quite a bad and horrible assumption. Could the father, you know... I'm talking about child abuse.

It seemed rather natural to assume it. You can't blame me (Well you actually can, but that's not the point). Just look at the father. Even without the tattoos...

At this point, he suddenly woke up, and I quickly turned away, afraid that he might see me staring at him, which wouldn't be a very comfortable situation. Luckily, he didn't, and proceeded to play with the baby boy. When he bent down a little, I saw the tip of yet another tattoo peeking out from his neck. The man probably has something across his whole back and stomach.

After awhile, the baby boy grabbed his finger and put it into his mouth. The father twisted up his face in mock agony, while the little girl screamed in laughter. After that little scene, I started to feel guilty about making a harsh judgement on that man. It wasn't really nice slapping on a stereotype just because he had... less than presentable tattoos, or a passion for body art.

Well, it really got to me that even though I always knew and told myself not to judge a book blah-blah-blah, I sometimes still slip up a little. It seemed pretty much a good lesson and memory that I want to remember.

Reached Outram Park, gave my seat to an eldery malay lady (See? Good passenger!), and was swept out of sight by the incoming horde.













Wow. You read it all the way? Collect your prize from me on the first day of school! xD

Lazy...

Ok. Haven't had much time to update lately. For one, I was in Japan. For one week (which reminds me of the long overdue blogpost that I haven't even started on). And then there was a ton of homework. And training. And a... Alright fine. I'M LAZY! Happy?

Anyway, no, this is not the Japan Trip post, although I was hoping it would be. Maybe I'll talk about... LA skit presentation. First of all, Jun Rong, I did not say the F word lah. I was saying "fun" but I had no idea why you thought it was the F word. Maybe it was due to a short little bo- Excuse me- girl playing music very loudly from his handphone. Hmm. Wonder who that may be.

Alright, back to the thing. The whole skit had miniscule plot, miniscule realism and most of all, miniscule props. At least it made people laugh, with people emphasizing on Ms Yap. After all, if you can't do what you are expected to do, at least make the teacher smile. Sound logical to me.

After the whole part of making fun of ourselves (or mostly Ren Jie), we went to Bugis to play LAN. I asked them (Junrong, Nicholas, CK and Renjie) what game they wanted to play. They decided on CS. I swear I never suggested it. Their loss.

Well, some people should guess the outcome by now. If you don't, my score was around 50-5. Kill-Death Ratio.

Was kinda fun. Want to go on monday before gathering? I promise I'll stop using flashbang on Nicholas too.