Whee the archive has been fixed!
Unfortunately my site is still down.
"SYSTEM STATUS: We are currently migrating all sites to a more powerful raid array system. Some sites will be temporarily unavailable during this migration process. All sites should be up and running on the new system within 48 hours. All index pages should be up within a few hours. FTP and new site registration will be offline during this entire process."
L'origine de Bert
Saturday, August 10, 2002
Restored Post
End of week post:
As expected, when I went into the bunk Wednesday night, the pictures of Asian Prince had been torn down :(
On Thursday morning, we had a National Day Observance Ceremony. They wanted us to sing the anthem and say the pledge, but I was muttering curses. There was supposed to be a talk, but the CO was very kind and let us gather and sit down before commencing his "Why NS is necessary and we must stay vigilant" National Day talk.
The CSM singled me out for having a "faded" uniform, so I went to get a new set of uniform for my "parade 4". Finally getting the chance to enquire about nametags, I found to my horror that they were $5 apiece, so I've scrapped the idea of getting new ones, or even one saying "Agagooga" for fun.
The things people get up to in camp. One driver came to the Medical Centre to have his ear flushed - the night before his friends had put Kiwi Shoe Polish outside his ear. Attempting to remove it, he shoved much of it in instead. Yuck.
Apparently at the last IQA the Armour Medical Centre was in the bottom 5. Aww.
Apparently some other units only got 1/2 a day off-in-lieus for burning their Saturdays, while we got 1 day. Yeh.
I am told I got off easy for my carelessness - one guy in 46SAR got 3 extras for the sin of transferring data from the computer to paper wrongly. Erk.
NDP Day
I was posted at the Indoor Stadium again, as with the last time I was there.
This time, I got the wonderful job of tending to the rubbish point. There were 3 big trash compactor containers and I was supposed to direct people to put rubbish in one and flattened cartons in the other. Whether because the person on the next shift didn't do the job properly, or because there was simply too much trash, by evening the containers had overflowed and all the extra trash had to be placed at the side. Coming by after the parade and seeing this, the CSM was not happy and having no extra trash compactors, he did what the SAF always does when a problem can't be solved - throw more men in. So 2 people stood on top of each compactor and arranged the rubbish, all the while stamping on it, while the rest of us braved throwing up torn trash bags leaking mysterious brown putrid liquids down our arm. In the end, all the rubbish did manage to fit on the compactors, but to no end - when the tow trucks come to lift the compactors 45 degrees to tow them off, the top layer of rubbish will topple into the bushes behind (or did topple, as it's probably been cleared by now). So the next time you past by the area look for a bare area of soil where the plants have all died thanks to loads of garbage falling on top of them. At the end of it all, I smelled of trash, but I wonder how much worse those *in* the compactor smelled.
Inhaling the aroma of rubbish, I got the chance to ponder and meditate on the questions of life, like why rubbish, no matter what its composition, smells the same.
When I was taking a break from dealing with trash, I was checking bags. Someone was mulling "division of labour", and I was to get to check those 14 years old and under. I sense a conspiracy.
Instead of looping "We Will Get There" for 45 minutes, they decided to spare our senses and added variety to the piped in music with "Shine" and "Moments of Music" as well.
One CHIJ girl was using the hem of her skirt to wipe her glasses. Now, I may be lacking in social mores but at least I know better than that. Not that I have a skirt to use, but that's besides the point. She has 5 years more anyhow. Oh and thanks to that incident, I am now confirmed in my fervent hope that they had something under their disgusting nightgowns. Also on the subject of CHIJ, the disparities in size are rather shocking - the tallest performer was at least 1 1/2 heads above the shortest. See what chemicals in our environment do to the development of children?
Having had all their food confiscated the last time, the Soka Association came prepared Friday. They had people taking care of the food, instead of the individual performers bringing in their own. On a cursory and perfunctory walk around the stadium (actually looking for the stairs, but observing the Soka people at the same time), I saw a station where they were serving savoury rice kuehs, a water point with many coloured plastic cups, and many performers with Bee Hoon in their KFC packets, eating it with chopsticks. Wonderful logistics.
Compulsive photo-taking disorder, not surprisingly, is not confined to JC girls. One of the motivators (whether Poly or ITE I couldn't tell), went to take a picture with one of the Marshallers. Though of course she went for Sergeant Frank, one of the better looking ones, and with spiked hair too.
Stefanie Sun looked terrible in her wedding gown. I wonder who she was going to marry.
We were played out - we'd been told that we would return to camp that night and book out late Saturday morning. However, at the last minute, we were played out and were switched to picking up props at the National Stadium. Having left some stuff in camp, I needed to retrieve it, so I was going to go back to camp and book out Saturday morning. However, my most kind brother in law offered to drive me home after I'd gotten my (and 3 other people's) stuff, and so I booked out at around 11:55pm (I'm not sure how strict they are about not letting people book out after 11:59pm. The guard commander said I wasn't too late - "no lah, just scared you guys don't have transport". I think few people care anyhow). Even more kind of him was his intention to give 2 people we'd seen at the bus stop a lift - but by the time we'd turned back, they'd both taken a cab. The stench was rather unbearable, but I don't think the car will smell permanently.
On Saturday morning we went back to steal props from the Stadium for the Chief of Armour Change of Command. I wonder why they didn't take the balloon ;)
We fell out very early - about 9:30am, and as a bonus, we found 2 unopened bottles of Newater too! It tastes. Rather normal. It's hard to describe the difference. Since I'm at a loss for words, I'll let our esteemed PM describe Newater for me: "Goh said local tap water, which is totally potable off the faucet, was a bit sweeter but drinking chilled Newater, he could not detect the difference."
NDP is over! No more KFC and Pizza Hut! Yesh. But on the downside it means we go back from being Slave Labour to being Slave Soldiers. Ugh.
Quotes:
"[On Kit Chan and Tanya Chua] I tell you, singers don't have long careers after singing National songs"
"[Me on CHIJ kiddies chattering: Doesn't it sound like a flock of birds?] No, sounds like a flock of bitches"
"[Me on adventures with rubbish at NDP 2002] I feel soiled. I'll never be clean again."
Whoever's in charge of the NDP website is fast! At about 1am, the NDP 2002 photos were already up.
I realise that Mr Kiasu looks uncannily like Weston Smithers from the Simpsons. Plagiarism?
My mother "cleaned up" my room again and as usual everything was hidden. I was looking for Blue Bear and found him... at the bottom of a bag, with a pile of books and papers on top of him. !@#$%^&*()
End of week post:
As expected, when I went into the bunk Wednesday night, the pictures of Asian Prince had been torn down :(
On Thursday morning, we had a National Day Observance Ceremony. They wanted us to sing the anthem and say the pledge, but I was muttering curses. There was supposed to be a talk, but the CO was very kind and let us gather and sit down before commencing his "Why NS is necessary and we must stay vigilant" National Day talk.
The CSM singled me out for having a "faded" uniform, so I went to get a new set of uniform for my "parade 4". Finally getting the chance to enquire about nametags, I found to my horror that they were $5 apiece, so I've scrapped the idea of getting new ones, or even one saying "Agagooga" for fun.
The things people get up to in camp. One driver came to the Medical Centre to have his ear flushed - the night before his friends had put Kiwi Shoe Polish outside his ear. Attempting to remove it, he shoved much of it in instead. Yuck.
Apparently at the last IQA the Armour Medical Centre was in the bottom 5. Aww.
Apparently some other units only got 1/2 a day off-in-lieus for burning their Saturdays, while we got 1 day. Yeh.
I am told I got off easy for my carelessness - one guy in 46SAR got 3 extras for the sin of transferring data from the computer to paper wrongly. Erk.
NDP Day
I was posted at the Indoor Stadium again, as with the last time I was there.
This time, I got the wonderful job of tending to the rubbish point. There were 3 big trash compactor containers and I was supposed to direct people to put rubbish in one and flattened cartons in the other. Whether because the person on the next shift didn't do the job properly, or because there was simply too much trash, by evening the containers had overflowed and all the extra trash had to be placed at the side. Coming by after the parade and seeing this, the CSM was not happy and having no extra trash compactors, he did what the SAF always does when a problem can't be solved - throw more men in. So 2 people stood on top of each compactor and arranged the rubbish, all the while stamping on it, while the rest of us braved throwing up torn trash bags leaking mysterious brown putrid liquids down our arm. In the end, all the rubbish did manage to fit on the compactors, but to no end - when the tow trucks come to lift the compactors 45 degrees to tow them off, the top layer of rubbish will topple into the bushes behind (or did topple, as it's probably been cleared by now). So the next time you past by the area look for a bare area of soil where the plants have all died thanks to loads of garbage falling on top of them. At the end of it all, I smelled of trash, but I wonder how much worse those *in* the compactor smelled.
Inhaling the aroma of rubbish, I got the chance to ponder and meditate on the questions of life, like why rubbish, no matter what its composition, smells the same.
When I was taking a break from dealing with trash, I was checking bags. Someone was mulling "division of labour", and I was to get to check those 14 years old and under. I sense a conspiracy.
Instead of looping "We Will Get There" for 45 minutes, they decided to spare our senses and added variety to the piped in music with "Shine" and "Moments of Music" as well.
One CHIJ girl was using the hem of her skirt to wipe her glasses. Now, I may be lacking in social mores but at least I know better than that. Not that I have a skirt to use, but that's besides the point. She has 5 years more anyhow. Oh and thanks to that incident, I am now confirmed in my fervent hope that they had something under their disgusting nightgowns. Also on the subject of CHIJ, the disparities in size are rather shocking - the tallest performer was at least 1 1/2 heads above the shortest. See what chemicals in our environment do to the development of children?
Having had all their food confiscated the last time, the Soka Association came prepared Friday. They had people taking care of the food, instead of the individual performers bringing in their own. On a cursory and perfunctory walk around the stadium (actually looking for the stairs, but observing the Soka people at the same time), I saw a station where they were serving savoury rice kuehs, a water point with many coloured plastic cups, and many performers with Bee Hoon in their KFC packets, eating it with chopsticks. Wonderful logistics.
Compulsive photo-taking disorder, not surprisingly, is not confined to JC girls. One of the motivators (whether Poly or ITE I couldn't tell), went to take a picture with one of the Marshallers. Though of course she went for Sergeant Frank, one of the better looking ones, and with spiked hair too.
Stefanie Sun looked terrible in her wedding gown. I wonder who she was going to marry.
We were played out - we'd been told that we would return to camp that night and book out late Saturday morning. However, at the last minute, we were played out and were switched to picking up props at the National Stadium. Having left some stuff in camp, I needed to retrieve it, so I was going to go back to camp and book out Saturday morning. However, my most kind brother in law offered to drive me home after I'd gotten my (and 3 other people's) stuff, and so I booked out at around 11:55pm (I'm not sure how strict they are about not letting people book out after 11:59pm. The guard commander said I wasn't too late - "no lah, just scared you guys don't have transport". I think few people care anyhow). Even more kind of him was his intention to give 2 people we'd seen at the bus stop a lift - but by the time we'd turned back, they'd both taken a cab. The stench was rather unbearable, but I don't think the car will smell permanently.
On Saturday morning we went back to steal props from the Stadium for the Chief of Armour Change of Command. I wonder why they didn't take the balloon ;)
We fell out very early - about 9:30am, and as a bonus, we found 2 unopened bottles of Newater too! It tastes. Rather normal. It's hard to describe the difference. Since I'm at a loss for words, I'll let our esteemed PM describe Newater for me: "Goh said local tap water, which is totally potable off the faucet, was a bit sweeter but drinking chilled Newater, he could not detect the difference."
NDP is over! No more KFC and Pizza Hut! Yesh. But on the downside it means we go back from being Slave Labour to being Slave Soldiers. Ugh.
Quotes:
"[On Kit Chan and Tanya Chua] I tell you, singers don't have long careers after singing National songs"
"[Me on CHIJ kiddies chattering: Doesn't it sound like a flock of birds?] No, sounds like a flock of bitches"
"[Me on adventures with rubbish at NDP 2002] I feel soiled. I'll never be clean again."
Whoever's in charge of the NDP website is fast! At about 1am, the NDP 2002 photos were already up.
I realise that Mr Kiasu looks uncannily like Weston Smithers from the Simpsons. Plagiarism?
My mother "cleaned up" my room again and as usual everything was hidden. I was looking for Blue Bear and found him... at the bottom of a bag, with a pile of books and papers on top of him. !@#$%^&*()
Post ID: 80066095
More tales from the log:
"chee soon juan's sister" - Has she been sued too?
"jaime teo" - Miss Singapore 2001 is popular
"malays in bikinis" - There seems to be some guy who has a fetish for Malays
"lightspeed+rescue+music+videos" - I want to find these myself.
"chao keng in singapore army" - I'm very guai. No tips forthcoming from me.
"Anakin's sexual life with Padme" - Erm. Perhaps this site, higher in the search hits listing, would be more relevant.
All concerti follow the Italian convention of three movements (fast, slow, fast) and No 3 is scored in ten parts, three each of violins, violas, and celli, and basso continuo. Bach did not write a slow movement for the work, notating only a final cadence of two chords in the movement. He would probably have expected the continuo player to improvise here, or may have himself inserted a movement from a solo keyboard work.
Now I know why my 2 versions of movement 2 sound rather different, and why 2 versions of the full concerto had just 2 chords punctuating the sprightly first and last movements.
I never knew the Six degrees of separation could have so many implications.
"This had been known for years by movie buffs who play the so-called Kevin Bacon Game. The aim of the game is to link the eponymous American actor to any other via the fewest number of intermediaries"
"chee soon juan's sister" - Has she been sued too?
"jaime teo" - Miss Singapore 2001 is popular
"malays in bikinis" - There seems to be some guy who has a fetish for Malays
"lightspeed+rescue+music+videos" - I want to find these myself.
"chao keng in singapore army" - I'm very guai. No tips forthcoming from me.
"Anakin's sexual life with Padme" - Erm. Perhaps this site, higher in the search hits listing, would be more relevant.
All concerti follow the Italian convention of three movements (fast, slow, fast) and No 3 is scored in ten parts, three each of violins, violas, and celli, and basso continuo. Bach did not write a slow movement for the work, notating only a final cadence of two chords in the movement. He would probably have expected the continuo player to improvise here, or may have himself inserted a movement from a solo keyboard work.
Now I know why my 2 versions of movement 2 sound rather different, and why 2 versions of the full concerto had just 2 chords punctuating the sprightly first and last movements.
I never knew the Six degrees of separation could have so many implications.
"This had been known for years by movie buffs who play the so-called Kevin Bacon Game. The aim of the game is to link the eponymous American actor to any other via the fewest number of intermediaries"
Post ID: 80061942
Sleazy chinese songs:
(These are approximately the lyrics of the song sung by Jamie Teo yesterday)
歌词名称：我要你的爱
歌手：周蕙
专辑：我要你的爱
歌词： # 我 我 我要你 我要你的 我要你的爱 你为什么不走过来 我 我要 我要你 我要你的 我要你的爱 你为什么不说出来
Listen to your mama and you never will regret it
And if anybody wonders you can tell them that I said it
The only thing I know is that I never can forget you
I've been longing for you baby ever since the day I met you
I got you where I want you and I'm never gonna let you get away from me
Do what I tell you
* I'm the girl for you and so you better start to face it
If you ever lose my love you know you never can replace it
I think it's time for you to start to give me some loving Carrying a touch for you that's hotter than an oven
It's time for you and me to do a little turtle loving
Baby hold me tight and do what I tell you
Repeat # * 我爱你我爱你
我 我要 我要你 我要你说 只要说声爱 你为什么不 为什么不 为什么不敢说爱
Apparently it's a Chinese version of a 1961 song:
I WANT YOU TO BE MY BABY
(A. Silver - Alfred)
LILLIAN BRIGGS
Or is it the other way around?
(These are approximately the lyrics of the song sung by Jamie Teo yesterday)
歌词名称：我要你的爱
歌手：周蕙
专辑：我要你的爱
歌词： # 我 我 我要你 我要你的 我要你的爱 你为什么不走过来 我 我要 我要你 我要你的 我要你的爱 你为什么不说出来
Listen to your mama and you never will regret it
And if anybody wonders you can tell them that I said it
The only thing I know is that I never can forget you
I've been longing for you baby ever since the day I met you
I got you where I want you and I'm never gonna let you get away from me
Do what I tell you
* I'm the girl for you and so you better start to face it
If you ever lose my love you know you never can replace it
I think it's time for you to start to give me some loving Carrying a touch for you that's hotter than an oven
It's time for you and me to do a little turtle loving
Baby hold me tight and do what I tell you
Repeat # * 我爱你我爱你
我 我要 我要你 我要你说 只要说声爱 你为什么不 为什么不 为什么不敢说爱
Apparently it's a Chinese version of a 1961 song:
I WANT YOU TO BE MY BABY
(A. Silver - Alfred)
LILLIAN BRIGGS
Or is it the other way around?
Post ID: 80061404
Having come back not long ago smelling of rubbish thanks to some adventures in the National Stadium, I wasn't going to post, but I noticed that my dissing on sparky: v 1.0 magnetic has been extended from:
"Balderdash
Balderdash - a monumental waste of some pretty sharp intellect."
to
"[blog - the scourge of the 21st century]
Balderdash
Balderdash - a monumental waste of some pretty sharp intellect. One year old, and still kicking and screaming (and griping, and whingeing). Blog on, baby!
"A generation of cyber-whiners," was the term applied to something else, but I think it's fairly accurate about lots of these personal webpages, blogs and group blogs. Is this the best our generation can come up with? Cyberwhining about the minute details of their days? Who really cares, anyway? And by the way, the poetry still sucks.
I hope the irony that I am writing this on a blog isn't lost on people...or do I have to point it out?
For relief from the inanity of it all, try this for size. The Dartmouth Observer contributors actually have things to say."
Being the owner of this humble abode, I suppose the onerous duty of fumbling some manner of response rests squarely on my weary shoulders.
Well, I'm glad to say that all manner of services are offered, from meaningless and trivial details noted down because the writer had nothing to do either when noting the details down or when typing them out, to trivia on what manner of strange objects can fit in anal cavities, to adolescent angst (relatively tastefully done, and not the sole content of the page). There is also nerdy and geeky material, and pompous social commentary if you're lucky. Indeed, we offer something for the whole family, for people of all genders (males, females, hermaphrodites and neuters), races (human, elf, dwarf, half-ogre, halfling [Ed: Just what are they half of anyway?] and even the odd lizardman) and ages!
Loath as I am to do so, I have to use, in some measure, the most commonly used defence used by those who publish not under commission, but for recreation - "if you don't like it, don't read it". I can just imagine the hordes of rabid, frothing anti-fans collapsing in apoplexy whenever they read each new entry, yet who come again and again for more. And more.
If I don't whine here, where can I whine? :) Not that I whine all the time, or even most of the time.
Someone was intimating that I should post a vehement, vituperative response, or at least a return salvo, but that wouldn't really be in character, nor would it really accomplish anything, so I offer this half-parry.
Oh and I don't recall writing any poetry :)
And now, to bed.
"Balderdash
Balderdash - a monumental waste of some pretty sharp intellect."
to
"[blog - the scourge of the 21st century]
Balderdash
Balderdash - a monumental waste of some pretty sharp intellect. One year old, and still kicking and screaming (and griping, and whingeing). Blog on, baby!
"A generation of cyber-whiners," was the term applied to something else, but I think it's fairly accurate about lots of these personal webpages, blogs and group blogs. Is this the best our generation can come up with? Cyberwhining about the minute details of their days? Who really cares, anyway? And by the way, the poetry still sucks.
I hope the irony that I am writing this on a blog isn't lost on people...or do I have to point it out?
For relief from the inanity of it all, try this for size. The Dartmouth Observer contributors actually have things to say."
Being the owner of this humble abode, I suppose the onerous duty of fumbling some manner of response rests squarely on my weary shoulders.
Well, I'm glad to say that all manner of services are offered, from meaningless and trivial details noted down because the writer had nothing to do either when noting the details down or when typing them out, to trivia on what manner of strange objects can fit in anal cavities, to adolescent angst (relatively tastefully done, and not the sole content of the page). There is also nerdy and geeky material, and pompous social commentary if you're lucky. Indeed, we offer something for the whole family, for people of all genders (males, females, hermaphrodites and neuters), races (human, elf, dwarf, half-ogre, halfling [Ed: Just what are they half of anyway?] and even the odd lizardman) and ages!
Loath as I am to do so, I have to use, in some measure, the most commonly used defence used by those who publish not under commission, but for recreation - "if you don't like it, don't read it". I can just imagine the hordes of rabid, frothing anti-fans collapsing in apoplexy whenever they read each new entry, yet who come again and again for more. And more.
If I don't whine here, where can I whine? :) Not that I whine all the time, or even most of the time.
Someone was intimating that I should post a vehement, vituperative response, or at least a return salvo, but that wouldn't really be in character, nor would it really accomplish anything, so I offer this half-parry.
Oh and I don't recall writing any poetry :)
And now, to bed.
Post ID: 80034253
Thursday, August 08, 2002
All Things Bright and Beautiful
Words based on Genesis 1:31 by Cecil Frances Alexander (1818-1895)
This version of the tune is from a 17th Century English melody.
Refrain:
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
God made their glowing colors,
And made their tiny wings.
(Refrain)
The purple-headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky.
(Refrain) The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden:
God made them every one.
(Refrain)
God gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
(Refrain)
Some Australian Waiters:
Words based on Genesis 1:31 by Cecil Frances Alexander (1818-1895)
This version of the tune is from a 17th Century English melody.
Refrain:
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
God made their glowing colors,
And made their tiny wings.
(Refrain)
The purple-headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky.
(Refrain) The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden:
God made them every one.
(Refrain)
God gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
(Refrain)
Some Australian Waiters:
Post ID: 79983928
The romance novel
True love returns
Jul 25th 2002 | DENVER
From The Economist print edition
America rediscovers its heartland
FOR a few days in mid-July, there really was a place where women who �smelled of wildflowers and smoke� and had �a long tumble of flaming curls around a face of rose and cream� could glance hopefully at men with �eyes of clear and calm blue that could harden to steel�. It was Denver, Colorado, where life recaptured something of its old innocence at the annual conference of the Romance Writers of America. This is a body founded in 1980 by three dozen authors who, oppressed by the gritty greyness of the realist school of novel-writing, set out determinedly to recreate the world of P.G. Wodehouse's �Honeysuckle Cottage�.
How well they have succeeded�up to a point. The Romance Writers today have more than 8,000 members. More than 1,500 people turned up at this year's assembly. Sales of romantic books�now a third of all the fiction sold in America�topped $1.5 billion last year, and the figure is rising.
There is, of course, a price. These days the bestseller lists are studded with titles such as �One Night of Passion�, �Fast Women� and �Sins of Summer�. The definition of romance has evolved along with the expectations of the (almost entirely female) readership of these books. So have their covers. A picture of a muscled hunk embracing a knee-buckling waif is embarrassing to hold up to other people's gaze in an airliner or your firm's office. Covers nowadays are more likely to be a swirl of pastel colours around a burst of flowers. The lust advertised by those titles is for the reader's eye only.
Characters have changed too. The typical hero is no longer a brooding English aristocrat with a large estate who, on a chance visit to a sick aunt, meets a lovely, lonely, virginal 17-year-old, says Charis Calhoon of the Romance Writers. �Cops, firemen and blue-collar workers are incredibly hot.� Women have aged a decade or two, even three; not a few of them are curvaceous moguls. There may even be a divorcee with a child.
Some traditions endure. There has to be a relationship. Generally, the heroine and the hero remain monogamous after they meet, regardless of whether it is in Chapter Three or Chapter Ten, however chequered their past, and no matter whether they hate each other at first sight. And there has to be a happy ending. �The conflict,� says Ms Calhoon, �is the struggle to make your love work,� which means, she adds, the struggle to maintain �commitment, monogamy and��well, there has to be some concession��a sense of fashion.�
The reigning queen of this world is Nora Roberts, author of such classics as �Tears of the Moon�, �Jewels of the Sun�, �Born in Fire�, �Born in Ice� and �Born in Shame�. She has written 145 books under her own name, almost all of them following the same pattern: a flawed couple meet, have explicit sex (�hot blood and violent lust he knew he could only chain down for so long�), painfully break up (�Love, she thought, could be such a lie�), and then reunite.
Recently, in her spare time, Ms Roberts has begun writing books under the name of J.D. Robb (�Reunion in Death�, �Betrayal in Death�, �Purity in Death�) in which the chief theme is a mystery, not love (though love is not left out). This year she has published two mysteries, three romances and four reprints. As fast as she produces them, readers inhale them. Every minute another 34 are sold. At the Denver conference the queue waiting for her autograph extended the length of a vast ballroom. When she put her pen down, there was not a copy left to sign. Unsated admirers were left panting for more. And more.
True love returns
Jul 25th 2002 | DENVER
From The Economist print edition
America rediscovers its heartland
FOR a few days in mid-July, there really was a place where women who �smelled of wildflowers and smoke� and had �a long tumble of flaming curls around a face of rose and cream� could glance hopefully at men with �eyes of clear and calm blue that could harden to steel�. It was Denver, Colorado, where life recaptured something of its old innocence at the annual conference of the Romance Writers of America. This is a body founded in 1980 by three dozen authors who, oppressed by the gritty greyness of the realist school of novel-writing, set out determinedly to recreate the world of P.G. Wodehouse's �Honeysuckle Cottage�.
How well they have succeeded�up to a point. The Romance Writers today have more than 8,000 members. More than 1,500 people turned up at this year's assembly. Sales of romantic books�now a third of all the fiction sold in America�topped $1.5 billion last year, and the figure is rising.
There is, of course, a price. These days the bestseller lists are studded with titles such as �One Night of Passion�, �Fast Women� and �Sins of Summer�. The definition of romance has evolved along with the expectations of the (almost entirely female) readership of these books. So have their covers. A picture of a muscled hunk embracing a knee-buckling waif is embarrassing to hold up to other people's gaze in an airliner or your firm's office. Covers nowadays are more likely to be a swirl of pastel colours around a burst of flowers. The lust advertised by those titles is for the reader's eye only.
Characters have changed too. The typical hero is no longer a brooding English aristocrat with a large estate who, on a chance visit to a sick aunt, meets a lovely, lonely, virginal 17-year-old, says Charis Calhoon of the Romance Writers. �Cops, firemen and blue-collar workers are incredibly hot.� Women have aged a decade or two, even three; not a few of them are curvaceous moguls. There may even be a divorcee with a child.
Some traditions endure. There has to be a relationship. Generally, the heroine and the hero remain monogamous after they meet, regardless of whether it is in Chapter Three or Chapter Ten, however chequered their past, and no matter whether they hate each other at first sight. And there has to be a happy ending. �The conflict,� says Ms Calhoon, �is the struggle to make your love work,� which means, she adds, the struggle to maintain �commitment, monogamy and��well, there has to be some concession��a sense of fashion.�
The reigning queen of this world is Nora Roberts, author of such classics as �Tears of the Moon�, �Jewels of the Sun�, �Born in Fire�, �Born in Ice� and �Born in Shame�. She has written 145 books under her own name, almost all of them following the same pattern: a flawed couple meet, have explicit sex (�hot blood and violent lust he knew he could only chain down for so long�), painfully break up (�Love, she thought, could be such a lie�), and then reunite.
Recently, in her spare time, Ms Roberts has begun writing books under the name of J.D. Robb (�Reunion in Death�, �Betrayal in Death�, �Purity in Death�) in which the chief theme is a mystery, not love (though love is not left out). This year she has published two mysteries, three romances and four reprints. As fast as she produces them, readers inhale them. Every minute another 34 are sold. At the Denver conference the queue waiting for her autograph extended the length of a vast ballroom. When she put her pen down, there was not a copy left to sign. Unsated admirers were left panting for more. And more.
Post ID: 79980831
Somehow this page has appeared on http://zouk.blogspot.com/ former hangout of many CAPpers around J1 age. They like to move around a lot. They used to be at http://meadows.blogspot.com/ before that. And now they rant on http://jugs.blogspot.com/.
Post ID: 79980659
And in another disturbing trend, my father emailed me an invitation to join a yahoogroup. An interesting thought at first blus;I haven't actively posted anything online in a long time - well, anything relevant; there is this blog.
However, the thought of actually posting stuff online - which for me is the only traditional outlet for expressing my real opinions - in a forum which one's parents actually read chills the soul.
Andrew: Is the thing you were humming the Benedicamus Domino?
However, the thought of actually posting stuff online - which for me is the only traditional outlet for expressing my real opinions - in a forum which one's parents actually read chills the soul.
Andrew: Is the thing you were humming the Benedicamus Domino?
Post ID: 79971251
Word of the day: "grouting."
And here's a page for all you budding people wondering if those Young Astronomer/Biologist/Entomologist/Proctologist badges in primary school were worth it in the end.
(I did Young Astronomer; purely because it required the least points.)
And here's a page for all you budding people wondering if those Young Astronomer/Biologist/Entomologist/Proctologist badges in primary school were worth it in the end.
(I did Young Astronomer; purely because it required the least points.)
Post ID: 79970803
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
Mmm..... just sang a wonderful Domino Canto thing in choir prac (as you might guess it *Is* contemporary classical)... just *chills* your soul.... still humming brent's wonderful T1 solo part... i wish i had his voice. Brent's voice is so good so good so good!!!
When we were practising it there's this 2 pages with syncopated "quie- recivit- something- atu- vi-tas, vi-tas tu-am" that is tricky but nice if done well and crisply. Ross and steve were competing to see who could squeeze in more "shit"s during the onbeat rests.
When we were practising it there's this 2 pages with syncopated "quie- recivit- something- atu- vi-tas, vi-tas tu-am" that is tricky but nice if done well and crisply. Ross and steve were competing to see who could squeeze in more "shit"s during the onbeat rests.
Post ID: 79934977
On Julian's recommendation, I watched F3. So far I've done Episodes 1 and 2, and part of 3.
He claims that it's meant to be funny and yes, many parts of Part 1 and 2 are. However, I agree with much of what the F3 review featured here some time ago said about the ridiculousness of F3 :) Though the author purposely ignored some parts F3 poked fun at itself.
Part 3, however, is another story. It's rather disturbing.
In a futile attempt to console myself, here's some Advantages of signing extra:
You help people by saving their weekends
You can spend time reading
You can work on your GP by practicing essays (Yeah right)
Hmm.
He claims that it's meant to be funny and yes, many parts of Part 1 and 2 are. However, I agree with much of what the F3 review featured here some time ago said about the ridiculousness of F3 :) Though the author purposely ignored some parts F3 poked fun at itself.
Part 3, however, is another story. It's rather disturbing.
In a futile attempt to console myself, here's some Advantages of signing extra:
You help people by saving their weekends
You can spend time reading
You can work on your GP by practicing essays (Yeah right)
Hmm.
Post ID: 79933204
List from the medical journals of the condition known as "insertion of foreign bodies into the rectum."
A bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup, an ax handle, a nine-inch zucchini, countless dildoes and vibrators including one 14-inch model complete with two D-cell batteries, a plastic spatula, a 9-1/2-inch water bottle, a deodorant bottle, a Coke bottle, a large bottle cap, numerous other bottles, a 3-1/2-inch Japanese glass float ball, an 11-inch carrot, an antenna rod, a 150-watt light bulb, a 100-watt frosted bulb, a cucumber, a screwdriver, four rubber balls, 72-1/2 jeweler's saws (all from one patient, but not all at the same time, although 29 were discovered on one occasion), a paperweight, an apple, an onion, a plastic toothbrush package, two bananas, a frozen pig's tail (it got stuck when it thawed), a ten-inch length of broomstick, an 18-inch umbrella handle and central rod, a plantain encased in a condom, two Vaseline jars, a whiskey bottle with a cord attached, a teacup, an oil can, a six-by-five-inch tool box weighing 22 ounces, a six-inch stone weighing two pounds (in the latter two cases the patients died due to intestinal obstruction), a baby powder can, a test tube, a ball-point pen, a peanut butter jar, candles, baseballs, a sand-filled bicycle inner tube, sewing needles, a flashlight, a half-filled tobacco pouch, a turnip, a pair of eyeglasses, a hard-boiled egg, a carborundum grindstone (with handle), a suitcase key, a syringe, a file, tumblers and glasses, a polyethylene waste trap from the U-bend of a sink, and much, much more. ...In 1955 one man who was "feeling depressed" reportedly inserted a six-inch paper tube into his rectum, dropped in a lighted firecracker, and blew a hole in his anterior rectal wall.
A bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup, an ax handle, a nine-inch zucchini, countless dildoes and vibrators including one 14-inch model complete with two D-cell batteries, a plastic spatula, a 9-1/2-inch water bottle, a deodorant bottle, a Coke bottle, a large bottle cap, numerous other bottles, a 3-1/2-inch Japanese glass float ball, an 11-inch carrot, an antenna rod, a 150-watt light bulb, a 100-watt frosted bulb, a cucumber, a screwdriver, four rubber balls, 72-1/2 jeweler's saws (all from one patient, but not all at the same time, although 29 were discovered on one occasion), a paperweight, an apple, an onion, a plastic toothbrush package, two bananas, a frozen pig's tail (it got stuck when it thawed), a ten-inch length of broomstick, an 18-inch umbrella handle and central rod, a plantain encased in a condom, two Vaseline jars, a whiskey bottle with a cord attached, a teacup, an oil can, a six-by-five-inch tool box weighing 22 ounces, a six-inch stone weighing two pounds (in the latter two cases the patients died due to intestinal obstruction), a baby powder can, a test tube, a ball-point pen, a peanut butter jar, candles, baseballs, a sand-filled bicycle inner tube, sewing needles, a flashlight, a half-filled tobacco pouch, a turnip, a pair of eyeglasses, a hard-boiled egg, a carborundum grindstone (with handle), a suitcase key, a syringe, a file, tumblers and glasses, a polyethylene waste trap from the U-bend of a sink, and much, much more. ...In 1955 one man who was "feeling depressed" reportedly inserted a six-inch paper tube into his rectum, dropped in a lighted firecracker, and blew a hole in his anterior rectal wall.
Post ID: 79929683
Restored Post
Whee. On Tuesday I got 2 extras.
The first was because I booked out on Monday when I wasn't supposed to. In layman's terms, AWOL, I supposed. So maybe it wasn't such a good idea to stack Saturday duty and Sunday confinement, since I wouldn't have been entitled to book out on Monday's Off-In-Lieu. Thankfully, I got off rather lightly, with 1 extra.
The other extra was for 2 relatively minor mistakes. The Battalion was having Movie Night, so the Medics went to do work at the Medical Centre. Andrew decided to teach us the Emergency Drill, and we had a simulated casualty. After it all however, I forgot to keep the casualty's docket, and accidentally dumped the blood test register into the bin because it was on the same clipboard as a casualty log sheet that was to be thrown away.
I'm starting to cease being fazed by the extras. 3 in 8 days. Wah. If you count the confinement, 4 days burnt in 13 days. My favourite signaller thinks that I sounded absent minded, as if something was on my mind. Maybe. Maybe I should brood when I'm not on duty. Or find a way to infect myself with sleeping sickness and wake up on the 12th of June 2004, hopefully less incompetent than now. I envy Ooi, who has been on MC since his hand operation 3-4 weeks ago.
I am very confused by the whole system of applying to go overseas. I suspect that this is deliberate, done to discourage servicemen from travelling abroad. As it stands now, I think I could've stayed in Melbourne for 1 day more, but at this point I've accepted the fact that the SAF will try all means to drain the meagre 14 days that we are granted, and there's nothing we can do about it.
The words of one sergeant in BMT come to mind: "You can only take leave when the SAF wants you to".
As long as I get out of this prison called Singapore, even for a short 4 days, I'll be happy.
Now and then, I'm being affected by mood swings again. Oddly enough, the happiest I felt Tuesday was during Unarmed Combat, as I revelled in the sheer mindlessness of it all. Of course it didn't hurt that the stretching wasn't as painful as my first UC lesson - my muscles didn't hurt yesterday and aren't hurting now.
The rest of the day I was rather stressed. I think I'm over reacting, and jumping at shadows. I couldn't really put my finger on why I was so on edge. I wonder if anyone notices, or cares. The only one who notice my tension was James, who commented that I looked very stressed. Maybe I am proceeding towards the last of the three fates - Dead, Broken or Crazy - that I always thought would befall me during this time. Looking at the dogs frolicking outside the Medical Centre was quite uplifting, though.
Interestingly enough, my rash of bad luck and stress seemed to have come just as Folie departed for Lion Company. Hmm.
I am rather happy that I don't seem to be dispersing my stress towards others though, like my mother always does.
I suppose I should be happy for the little things - for one (valid) reason or another, of the 3 or 4 RT sessions I've been scheduled for, I've not gone for a single one yet.
As expected, my pictures of Asian Prince weren't very well received.
"[On my pasting of 3 Asian Prince photos on a cupboard] I am racist... You like men, put a picture of [a] Chinese man, I don't mind. You go and put an Indian... If you want you [should] put it on the ceiling... In the middle of the night, 'There's something looking at me'"
Some of them said I was er3 xin1 :)
Whee. On Tuesday I got 2 extras.
The first was because I booked out on Monday when I wasn't supposed to. In layman's terms, AWOL, I supposed. So maybe it wasn't such a good idea to stack Saturday duty and Sunday confinement, since I wouldn't have been entitled to book out on Monday's Off-In-Lieu. Thankfully, I got off rather lightly, with 1 extra.
The other extra was for 2 relatively minor mistakes. The Battalion was having Movie Night, so the Medics went to do work at the Medical Centre. Andrew decided to teach us the Emergency Drill, and we had a simulated casualty. After it all however, I forgot to keep the casualty's docket, and accidentally dumped the blood test register into the bin because it was on the same clipboard as a casualty log sheet that was to be thrown away.
I'm starting to cease being fazed by the extras. 3 in 8 days. Wah. If you count the confinement, 4 days burnt in 13 days. My favourite signaller thinks that I sounded absent minded, as if something was on my mind. Maybe. Maybe I should brood when I'm not on duty. Or find a way to infect myself with sleeping sickness and wake up on the 12th of June 2004, hopefully less incompetent than now. I envy Ooi, who has been on MC since his hand operation 3-4 weeks ago.
I am very confused by the whole system of applying to go overseas. I suspect that this is deliberate, done to discourage servicemen from travelling abroad. As it stands now, I think I could've stayed in Melbourne for 1 day more, but at this point I've accepted the fact that the SAF will try all means to drain the meagre 14 days that we are granted, and there's nothing we can do about it.
The words of one sergeant in BMT come to mind: "You can only take leave when the SAF wants you to".
As long as I get out of this prison called Singapore, even for a short 4 days, I'll be happy.
Now and then, I'm being affected by mood swings again. Oddly enough, the happiest I felt Tuesday was during Unarmed Combat, as I revelled in the sheer mindlessness of it all. Of course it didn't hurt that the stretching wasn't as painful as my first UC lesson - my muscles didn't hurt yesterday and aren't hurting now.
The rest of the day I was rather stressed. I think I'm over reacting, and jumping at shadows. I couldn't really put my finger on why I was so on edge. I wonder if anyone notices, or cares. The only one who notice my tension was James, who commented that I looked very stressed. Maybe I am proceeding towards the last of the three fates - Dead, Broken or Crazy - that I always thought would befall me during this time. Looking at the dogs frolicking outside the Medical Centre was quite uplifting, though.
Interestingly enough, my rash of bad luck and stress seemed to have come just as Folie departed for Lion Company. Hmm.
I am rather happy that I don't seem to be dispersing my stress towards others though, like my mother always does.
I suppose I should be happy for the little things - for one (valid) reason or another, of the 3 or 4 RT sessions I've been scheduled for, I've not gone for a single one yet.
As expected, my pictures of Asian Prince weren't very well received.
"[On my pasting of 3 Asian Prince photos on a cupboard] I am racist... You like men, put a picture of [a] Chinese man, I don't mind. You go and put an Indian... If you want you [should] put it on the ceiling... In the middle of the night, 'There's something looking at me'"
Some of them said I was er3 xin1 :)
Post ID: 79927988
Lots of people don't like shawn ban. Don't be like him.
I'm so angry!! Got mad with a lot of people so i was already going "bitch bitch Bitch Bitch Bitch" in my mind and when i went to check out the handphone deal i wanted- a free nokia 8210 iwth a 2 year $25 optus plan- the shop didn't know anything about it. And when i called up the helpline they said this offer (that i saw on the website) was only applicable for purchases over the phone using credit card. And since i don't currently have a credit card (and it takes 1 week to process) I can't do it. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate! *Now this blog will be the google hit for peopl looking for hate websites*
I'm going to go for a 2 year optus $33 plan with a free phone- nokia 3310, or ericsson A3618 or nokia 3350 or panasonic GD75 or motorola T191 or ericsson T65. I feel so angry i almost feel like forking out the $100 to upgrade to a nokia 5210!!
Can one of you help me buy handphone accessories from singapore and post to me (i'll pay for the postage! And treat u to lunch the next time i'm back) once i've decided what phone i'm getting?
I'm so angry!! Got mad with a lot of people so i was already going "bitch bitch Bitch Bitch Bitch" in my mind and when i went to check out the handphone deal i wanted- a free nokia 8210 iwth a 2 year $25 optus plan- the shop didn't know anything about it. And when i called up the helpline they said this offer (that i saw on the website) was only applicable for purchases over the phone using credit card. And since i don't currently have a credit card (and it takes 1 week to process) I can't do it. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate! *Now this blog will be the google hit for peopl looking for hate websites*
I'm going to go for a 2 year optus $33 plan with a free phone- nokia 3310, or ericsson A3618 or nokia 3350 or panasonic GD75 or motorola T191 or ericsson T65. I feel so angry i almost feel like forking out the $100 to upgrade to a nokia 5210!!
Can one of you help me buy handphone accessories from singapore and post to me (i'll pay for the postage! And treat u to lunch the next time i'm back) once i've decided what phone i'm getting?
Post ID: 79925858
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