Friday, January 15, 2010 @ 5:41 AM
Lesson on Ris Low
Lesson on Ris Low:

The interview is badly done. This is because most of the words she used were not articulated nor were they grammatically correct. She often puts emphasis on the wrong words and drags her vowels, resulting in words like ‘zebra’ and ‘still’ to sound funny as well as inappropriate. She also needs to project her voice and not mumble as there were certain parts that were inaudible. She also has the same facial expression throughout the whole interview and it made her look nervous. She should have shown better facial expression and vary her tone during the interview as the lack of such caused restlessness to those who listened to the interview.

I would have certainly failed Ris Low based on the interview shown. This is because she did not show any form of intelligence in her responses. She also did not elaborate much. She did not pronounce her words properly and this caused many of her replies to be muffled. She also relied quite heavily on the interviewer’s prompts and there quite a few awkward silences between her and the interviewer.

I would, agree though, that Ris Low is the general representation of 60% of Singapore’s population. Majority of Singaporeans use ‘Singlish’ as a means of communicating rather than proper English. This is due to the cultural influences in Singapore’s multi-racial society. Singlish is indeed unique to Singapore and it should be something that is preserved as it is one of the things that encourage Racial Harmony. However, I do strongly feel that when one becomes a representative of Singapore on the international stage, the proper standard of English should be used. This is because English did not originate from Singapore. We are using the national language of another country (interestingly, our national language is actually Malay) and therefore, as a sign of respect, we should use proper English that is a widely recognized as a medium of speech on the international platform.

Though it is such, her treatment is the media is not justified. She may be an ambassador and I do believe that it is important to speak properly but a line has to be drawn. It went too far when the media exposed her credit card fraud. I am not surprised that she actually withdrew her crown. The media pressured her to do so. Even if her credit card fraud was discovered, they should not have publicised it. Instead, they should have approached the company that sponsors the pageant so as to avoid scandals. Other than this, the interview and her offences have shot her to the peak of infamy. It would be difficult for her to get a proper job in the tourism and hospitality industry (which is what she is majoring in).

Nevertheless, Ris Low will definitely not be forgotten in the generations to come. She has also, in her own way, contributed to English students of the future by giving them someone to talk about and use as an example. However, I only have one wish for the infamous ‘catchphrase queen’ that made the list of ’25 Most Influential People in Asia 2009’ and that is she being given a second chance to be Singapore’s ambassador (a worker in the tourism industry?) with, hopefully next time, better English.


For the benefit of those who may not be Singaporean, Ris Low was Miss World Singapore 2009 until an interview of her using bad English was circulated online. Offences of hers were then publicised and she, of course, gave up her crown. This, again, was written for English class. I realised it was a good topic to work on so, yeah.



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Tuesday, December 29, 2009 @ 7:40 PM
The Frightened Child
I bore my eyes into the drab, grey floor. Looking up, I noticed the walls were brightly coloured yellow and blue. I looked at the woman standing beside me and shrugged, taking my time to get to my desk. I know she told me to make an ‘introduction’ but I did not see the need to. After all, I’d probably be moving away soon. I don’t even think they need to know my name. Her eyes followed me and I could sense them boring holes into my back. She spoke anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t want to say anything James?” she asked, her tone slightly surprised.

I scowled. They weren’t supposed to know my name at all. I looked at that woman anyway and shook my head. This was going to be a long eight hours. Throughout the whole day, the boy who was sitting next to me tried to talk to me. I was sure he even mentioned his name once but I didn’t bother remembering. Every single chance he could, he tried to strike up a conversation. Each time, I just glared at him and ignored him.

“What’s your problem anyway? I just want to make friends,” the boy countered once.

I glared daggers at him again and saw him shiver. I shrugged it off. The phrase ‘make friends’ was alien to me. It did not exist in my dictionary. It is mentioned though, countless times by countless people whose faces I barely remember. All those insignificant people I see in each town I move to. I guess I’ve lost count.

Anyway, I think he got the message and left me alone for the rest of the day.

School was over quicker than I had expected. It was then when I headed home. If you could call some luxurious hotel ‘home’ then it’s probably right up your street. Home was a place I dreaded simply because I knew no one cared there. I opened the door and kicked off my shoes. Looking around, I realised I was alone. Mother wasn’t at home. She was probably at work.
People often tell me that I’m really lucky to have an actress as a mother. She’s one of those popular ones too. To tell you the truth though, I couldn’t care. Never did when Dad, well, I don’t know where he is. Maybe he’s dead or some bigshot criminal out there. Point is, he’s not with us.

Kicking off my sneakers, I slowly dragged my backpack up the stairs to room. The first thing I do: head for my bed. I sit there and slowly contemplate on whether I should start on my homework. I do so anyway and I guess I must’ve fallen asleep.

I’m all alone in this dark tunnel and I see the light far away. Running after it, I see a familiar face. This girl with sandy-coloured hair and bright, cobalt blue eyes; I know she’s smiling at me and I try to smile back. Suddenly everything turns grey and the image of her is shattered like glass and dissipates. I find myself crying and running after that light and her shattered image but then everything is a blur and I see no more of the tunnel and all that faces me is my bare excuse for a room.

Gripping a portion of my hair, I realise that it’s wet and I’m sweating. I sigh and heave my legs off my bed and start rummaging in my unpacked suitcase. Grunting, I lift out a framed picture of two kids playing together. I run my forefinger on the pasta seashell frame that’s painted gold. I touch my cheeks and realise that they’re wet. Wiping my tears, I get up and place the picture frame on my bedside table.

‘Jane’

I lift my head slowly and face the picture of my long-dead twin sister. Not to get mushy because I really don’t want this to sound like a horrible sequel to the type of movies my Mother does but I guess I miss her a lot. She’s probably the best person on this planet and my only friend. We talk only to each other, smile only at each other. We don’t like ‘outsiders’.

To put it simply, we’ve gone through thick and thin together. We’ve trusted only each other. That way, both of us learned to put our ultimate trust in each other. We were always together, laughing and smiling only to each other, because we knew we’d both be okay. In front of ‘outsiders’, our faces would be blank, expressionless and completely void of emotion. Only each other would know the emotions we’ve struggled to keep.

Then it happened. Jane died. Never would I forget the horrible state she was in. How helpless I was when she lay there, suffering. Even today, I can’t get it out of my head. She’s been gone for six years now. The guilt built up in me; that’s why I am what I am now.

I stopped talking to people, stopped expressing any form of emotion. ‘It was for the weak,’ I would tell myself, not for me. I’d keep a stony expression and somehow, I realise that I’ve forgotten to love, to care, to be happy. I only remember one emotion.
I climb back onto my bed and look at that framed picture once more. I burry my face in my pillow and look up into what I imagine to be the dark, starry sky. I look up at this one particular star. One we had picked out from all the other sparklers in the sky. I smile at it and notice that my tears are slowly entering my mouth. I don’t care. I stare at the star and make a silent prayer.

‘Just this once, Jane, let me cry.’


I know this is long due that's why I apologise for putting this up late. This was supposed to be my Holiday Homework (English essay) until I realised that it was too long (the word limit was 500, the story is 980 words long) so I had to write another one. The other one is posted on FanFiction.net and it's link is here. Anyways, do your usual drills.

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Tuesday, October 6, 2009 @ 4:45 AM
The Violin
I rest the mahogany instrument on my chin,
Ready my bow to play my violin,

A sound so soft, melodious and smooth,
Aching hearts it will be able to soothe,

Slowly my boredom I manage to kill,
But I keep playing to fill the atmosphere so still,

Slowly I start to hum along,
Telling myself, “oh, what a beautiful song,”

Escaping to a world I solely own,
On my violin will the spotlights have shone,

Louder my melody I manage to play,
Dragging me deeper into my land far away,

My bow moves along the strings and I manage a smile,
chuckling softly, “it’s been a while,”

So absorbed, I slowly start to sway,
The music flowing as I play,

Whenever I play I feel so absorbed, so taken,
a new passion I realized has awakened,

I realize the music managed to excite me,
Of my past worries, I am free


I know it sounds cliff-hanger-ish but I really am unsure on how to end it off. I seriously think that I have an obsession with violins (no, not because of La Corda D'Oro if any of you are wondering). Still, I like this poem a lot. Another thing, does anyone know what a violin is made of (as in, what type of wood) as it would make my poem a bit more authentic (did I use the right word?). If you do, please comment at the shoutmix. I would appreciate it greatly.



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Thursday, October 1, 2009 @ 6:53 AM
Autumn
The autumn leaves twirled in the wind, dancing elegantly. The browned leaves were starting to pile up beside the trees, only to be blown again. It was near sunset and the soft orange rays of the sun shone through the trees, diffusing the light effectively. The scene was as if an artist had just lifted his brush and the scene was his canvas.

The dry leaves rustled and some were crushed by my soft, slow footsteps. My auburn hair danced in the soft zephyr as even I, myself, slowly start twirling. Merry laughter filled my ears and I have come to the realization that the soft laughter echoing is none but my own.

These are some things that I realise that I can never run from; enjoying myself in autumn is definitely one of them. It often escapes me why I actually like the season in the first place. Maybe it’s the cool, dry temperature, maybe the stunning sunsets and sunrises every other day.

A soft melody floated to my ears. As if I was in a trance, I felt a compelling urge to find the maestro who had the talent to weave such beautiful music which I recognised from the timbre, was violin. I strained my ears to hear. Slowly, I half-walked, half-danced to the soft melody in my ears. It grew sharper, more intense and louder.

I stopped in my tracks.

I found you

He had soft, seemingly forgiving dark blue eyes that were the colour of midnight sky. He had pitch black hair that was messy, sticking out in different directions. He was dressed in what appeared to be a school uniform. His eyes were transfixed on the ebony instrument in his hands and moved the bow against the strings so perfectly in tune.

The scene seemed so perfect. He was in the sun’s view and the orange rays had dimmed, illuminating his entire body. Him absorbed in his violin. A true expression of passion. I could only watch wistfully. Never once had I loved something so much. An orange leaf fell on the tip of my nose and I sighed loudly in content.

I love autumn.

“Eh? I didn’t notice you there.”

I looked up and saw said boy looking at me with his midnight blue eyes, which I realized to be piercing. The violin playing had stopped and the boy was staring at me with a puzzled expression on his face. He paused.

“Did I startle you? I know my playing is really bad and I need to improve so I hope that I didn’t disturb you or anything…” he started to trail off, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. He smiled and for a moment and somewhere in background, I felt that a megawatt lightbulb had gone off. I stood there, mesmerised.

“Erm, I’m really sorry for disturbing you, yeah?”

I shook my head slowly, and said, “No, that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life.”
That was the complete truth. Never once had I seen one who could play with such passion and dedication. He smiled softly and readied himself once more.

“Would you like me to continue?”

I nodded my head gratefully and sat, cross-legged on the park floor, smiling to myself. I realised he was smiling at me as well. Pink dusted itself on my cheeks and I couldn’t help but smile wider. We stayed there, like that, for maybe the next five minutes as I waited for him to finish the song. When he did, I stood and readied myself to take my leave.

“Wait, please,” he pleaded.

I turned my head to face him.

“Would you like to know what piece that was?”

I blinked a few times and stared at his face blankly.

“I mean, you really don’t have to…”

I felt my cheeks reddening once more and nodded, “its okay, I would really like to know.”

He positioned himself next to me and showed me his violin. He also explained that the piece that he just played was a violin concerto by Antonio Vivaldi who wrote four concertos in The Four Seasons series and that the one he just played was ‘autumn.’

He grinned and soon we were chatting away like old friends. I found out that his name was Miyamoto Takumi and that he was from Shigekazu Gakuen. He was studying music and specialised in the violin. Soon, we always met in the park. Almost like an unbroken bond, a promise unspoken of but always kept.

Our unspoken promise.


Aah, the sweetness and simplicity of a one-shot (one chapter story). I wrote this out of pure boredom. I may consider continuing but, heh, who knows. The Four Seasons are a really nice set. My personal favourite is winter though, not autumn. For those of you who don't frequent Japanese manga, Shigekazu Gakuen is a random name for a school. Read&Review



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Monday, September 28, 2009 @ 6:03 AM
tensai



another of my awesome photoshop pics
boredom does affect me as well, ya know
tensai means genius in Japanese
th font is Jellyka Castle's Queen and can be downloaded here
this image is (c) iRAYUMi


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Wednesday, September 23, 2009 @ 6:10 PM
A dose is enough to kill
Standing here all alone,
I guess I can’t help but cry,
Hoping that these tears,
Could help me by,

Don’t tell me it’s useless,
Though I know it is,
‘Coz it started,
With your kiss,

Why didn’t I realize,
Why didn’t I see,
That you didn’t even care,
Much less love me,

I took too much,
Drunk all that sweet wine,
Should’ve turned back,
Then I’d still be fine,

I believed your sweet talk,
All those damned lies,
I fell so hard,
Into your eyes,

Why’d you have to be so fine,
Have such a cute smile,
Why did you have to lie,
End up in my ‘heartbreaker’ file,

Don’t blame me,
For crying so bad,
‘Coz I guess you don’t know,
You were all I ever had,

Alone in my darkened corner,
Waiting for someone to pull me out,
So afraid,
Didn’t want to shout,

Never was I loved,
Mom and Dad never cared,
Hoping was something,
I never dared,

Never had any friends,
Didn’t talk to anyone,
I really thought,
That I was done,

You had to come,
And break my aching heart,
Don’t you have a life,
You’ve lost your part,

I wish I realized,
You never loved me at all,
Was I part of a game,
Just so you could watch me fall,

I guess by now,
You’d know the drill,
Seduce, flatter, kiss, break,
A dose is enough to kill


A friend of mine, Pomatoe had a fic challenge and I really could not resist. The them is "A dose is enough to kill", thus the title.

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Tuesday, September 22, 2009 @ 6:05 AM
heartbreaker

photoshop,yellow,hearts,poems,emo



I was being very bored so I did this. Credits to an awesome friend of mine, Hazirah, who is hosting this image for me on Photobucket. Credits to here for the brushes that I used and not forgetting, Photoshop CS4. The font is called Parchment as well.

Please comment at the ShoutMix :D



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