tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-228131352024-03-07T19:34:30.168+08:00Oxymoron In The TropicsRoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.comBlogger278125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-53259900395441395112022-11-20T21:53:00.005+08:002022-11-20T22:01:29.862+08:00What Can I Say? <p>I can't say much. So I'll just share lyrics from a song.</p><p>'Life Will Pass'</p><p>Moments full of happiness <br />Of sweet youth days,</p><p>Nothing to do, <br />you cannot bring them back, <br />Fate is not to be controlled, it is not. <br />Those days will be a thing of the past, <br />Where dreams and fantasies are intertwined, <br />Everything will remain an echo, <br />When the time comes to think.</p><p>The life passes, passes, <br />Fleeting like a river, <br />May your star never go out, <br />Until the cherished dream is achieved.</p><p>The life passes, passes, <br />Everything in this life is in vain, <br />May your star never go out, <br />Until the cherished dream is achieved.</p><p>When the fog will cover the soul, <br />When happiness will leave you, <br />When you're alone in the world, <br />Will there be someone who will understand you? <br />And your blooming youth, It will turn into a mirage someday. <br />No matter how you deceive yourself, <br />but in the end Your fate is in the hands of the Almighty.</p><p>The life passes, passes, <br />Fleeting like a river, <br />May your star never go out, <br />Until the cherished dream is achieved.<br /><br />These words are translated from a song 'Omir Oter'<br />by Dimash Qudaibergen<br /><a href="https://youtu.be/8VrEFpu4S8A">https://youtu.be/8VrEFpu4S8A</a> <br />It is about the transience of life, its meaning<br />and how to walk your path with dignity and leave a trace.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dPQrQ5cOAgP04esUbFvwUVgeeIdt3a1lq9DkhqwBhOezqF9ep7ZeULr5VsnQJBy3GGQFV5RkHtGnfF7FfX_V9wofINye4BzaTYfUPWxsreMi8SVayf_7vAC9KYvIM99zDh8WZjJ8i202kSIYcoDfbFcoAPWAq_TpLZre-abWSRgJu0RYRg/s922/3d588e32432307.60392b954f838.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="700" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dPQrQ5cOAgP04esUbFvwUVgeeIdt3a1lq9DkhqwBhOezqF9ep7ZeULr5VsnQJBy3GGQFV5RkHtGnfF7FfX_V9wofINye4BzaTYfUPWxsreMi8SVayf_7vAC9KYvIM99zDh8WZjJ8i202kSIYcoDfbFcoAPWAq_TpLZre-abWSRgJu0RYRg/w432-h568/3d588e32432307.60392b954f838.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-75247189623217945592022-09-02T12:41:00.002+08:002022-09-02T12:41:18.146+08:00I Blog Less When...<p> I blog less when ...</p><p>- I'm busy with interesting things.</p><p>- I'm overloaded with work.</p><p>- I haven't got things to complain about.</p><p>I'm all of the above right now but I decided to try and make a few blog posts. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="312" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/32W3J7XaNH8" width="375" youtube-src-id="32W3J7XaNH8"></iframe></div>RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-2581647407912948022021-10-19T16:38:00.006+08:002021-10-19T16:38:37.323+08:00Scammers On My Phone<p> Be very careful when you get calls informing you that your IC has been used to open a company or register a phone line or even sent to an address in a box. These calls are usually from scammers because police or LHDN ppl will ask you to go to the office or station. They will not discuss such things on the phone.</p><p>A lot of these calls are done on public holidays or weekends or times outside working hours. They will sound very reasonable and tell you that you need to go to a police station or some where. My personal experience is that I have been required to go to a police station in Seremban or Ipoh. Yes, I am very unfortunate to have received two of these calls. The first one was during lockdown in 2020 and it was from Pos Malaysia (so they said). They claimed I sent my bank card and IC to an address in Ipoh via Poslaju. They asked me if I knew it was a crime to send such items via post. I said it is a moot point because I would never do such a thing. How would I get money out of my bank if I'm busy sending my bank cards to God-knows-who. As for my IC... well, I told them only idiots do that. However they said I am still in trouble because the package was in my name. So they insisted I go over to Ipoh. During lockdown time, are they nuts? So I said okay I'll talk to the local police about it. They said I can't do that because the crime happened in Ipoh so I had to go to Ipoh. And they could help me by passing my call to their police contact. Wow, they had a direct line with a police officer. It seems crimes happen a lot in Poslaju. (I'm being sarcastic.) So I said it's okay, I have buddies in the local police station and I would talk to them about taking the next flight to Ipoh. Then they ended the call by saying I seemed to be unaware of how much trouble I was in. Well, I would be in really serious trouble if I didn't start thinking of where to get some hand sanitiser. I was running out. Needless to say, I never bothered to go to any police station. So far no SWAT Team has rushed over to my house to take me into custody.</p><p>The second call was two weeks ago. On a weekend. Just when I was about to have a nice piece of cake with hot tea. This time I was informed that I had been implicated in some criminal money laundering thing because a phone number I registered in Seremban had been used. I said I had no phone line in Seremban. Plus it would have been impossible for me to register a phone line in August as it was MCO time (or whatever version of MCO, I have lost track). But apparently my IC had been used to register this company, so now I was in trouble. And of course, I HAD to go to Seremban police station that day itself. This time I told them okay I'll go after I arrange for swabs and after I go to the local police station because I can't just fly over to Seremban without some sort of official documentation to show my boss. (I was just talking while waiting for them to offer to pass my call to some police officer on direct line with them.) Then they got around to the 'I can transfer the call to bla bla bla who will be able to help you... bla bla bla...' So finally I told them that I don't know about such things and I usually let my husband handle all my criminal cases, as he was a police inspector. They ended the call with a 'You are in serious trouble... you don't seem to realise it.' I did realise my tea was getting cold. And when I told my husband, he only said hrm.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY10MwhmhWbQHCqAeuvK-UB8epQmZTgyEIms7XKZwnCFMVTOYs3NEI2St_fqekc4fhogY7WmuFRKE4BKbRr5K-_0ogEMKmFbkNmyuMB-rZ4sdy-EYxpy1dCXu8gcGjKLmNtGUK/s275/scammerrrr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY10MwhmhWbQHCqAeuvK-UB8epQmZTgyEIms7XKZwnCFMVTOYs3NEI2St_fqekc4fhogY7WmuFRKE4BKbRr5K-_0ogEMKmFbkNmyuMB-rZ4sdy-EYxpy1dCXu8gcGjKLmNtGUK/w614-h409/scammerrrr.jpg" width="614" /></a></div><br />RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-30287958680377975532021-10-07T11:46:00.002+08:002021-10-07T11:47:18.488+08:00I Am Back... In A Very Different World<p> I've been 'away'... although not very far. And I've decided to return... even though it's a very very different world now from the world in my last post.<br /><br />Don't ask me about 2018... but Life started to skew sideways at the end of 2019 when news started to trickle out regarding a strange new virus. Then clips of people walking down streets and suddenly collapsing started appearing in chat groups. At first I thought it was one of those fake clips. Or maybe cut from a film about zombie pandemics or insidious alien attacks. Alas, I was wrong. Then by March 2020, for the first time ever, I experienced a pandemic lockdown. Schools were shut, shops closed. Roadblocks sprouted up like mushrooms to deal with those who still didn't believe the reality of what was happening. The government floated an app that looked like some sort of controlling mechanism. Well, fast forward to October 2021... that app is now required for entry to most public spaces. It holds information about vaccination status. It is no longer an affront for a security guard to ask to see my phone screen so that he can verify my vaccination status. I held out for as long as I could ... delaying the injection of an untested cocktail of drugs and weird things. Well, I consider as 'untested' any vaccine that hasn't gone through at least two decades of trials.<br /><br />My new world also includes double masks, antibacterial hand sanitisers, bottles of essential oils and avoidance of people. Weddings are restricted to small numbers.. visits to elderly parents require health checks (as far as I'm concerned). I haven't had a good coffee chat with buddies since 2020 and I haven't met many (MOST!) since 2020. I actually lived 2020 in a sort-of fugue state... asking myself at intervals 'Is this real?'. 2021 is slightly better but not by much because the virus kept coming back in increasingly-virulent waves.<br /><br />Well, one step at a time, onward I go.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSMJLGrJhdzsQt9Kwhzb0tAJD1hJ47olNMK9tKwvkxGKl3DEQ9j12x5GfqVwuLISoJOzPOcEDbAM_tPzX_PCYtAM8CSC39QzcWuzuOo4U4TK4csnA_MKeFb3gvohg4j8pjG-w/s640/staringatthesky.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSMJLGrJhdzsQt9Kwhzb0tAJD1hJ47olNMK9tKwvkxGKl3DEQ9j12x5GfqVwuLISoJOzPOcEDbAM_tPzX_PCYtAM8CSC39QzcWuzuOo4U4TK4csnA_MKeFb3gvohg4j8pjG-w/w530-h299/staringatthesky.jpg" width="530" /></a></div><br />RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-81330153127567181792017-11-07T01:46:00.001+08:002017-11-07T01:46:20.694+08:00The Power and Beauty of Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I love stories... whether I hear them, read them or see them. They make me feel things, and they also teach me things.<br />
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Yes, I'm going to talk about Dimash Kudaibergen again. He is a story teller par excellence, via his music and his lyrics. So young, you may say, to earn such a title ... Surely he hasn't lived long enough to have gathered all those stories in his heart and to be able to share those stories with others. But watch a video of him singing... and tell me that isn't a superb example of someone telling a story that grabs you by your heartstrings and stays with you for days and days afterward. If I were a Buddhist, I would call him an old soul.<br />
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Stories are powerful because they can paint swathes of colour across your mind and they can change the way you think. But the stories need to be presented in the right way, with the right words. I've always been a 'word' person and I've always believed I needed to know the words to be truly touched. Then I heard Dimash sing 'Late Autumn'. In Mandarin. <i>I don't understand Mandarin</i>. But he made me feel the pain. <br />
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Call me a slow learner, but it seems that music CAN tell a story. And you didn't really need to know the words. <i>Hmm, that suddenly reminded me of Leonardo Constantine, someone who is really good at storytelling through dance.</i><br />
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<i>Still, I hear many people are busy learning Kazakh or Russian. Hmm, it seems that a singing prodigy is also a good way to get people interested in a country.</i></div>
RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-43610228796594209382017-11-07T01:13:00.005+08:002017-11-13T15:52:43.606+08:00Finding Your Magic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Someone once asked me how I learned to write so well. She said it looked like magic the way I could lay down the words without seeming to think hard about it. You know what? I don't know. I just think a bit, and then I put pen to paper and the pen moves as if it is an extension of my mind. Sometimes it even moves ahead of my conscious mind. I suppose my writing has become a subconscious or unconscious part of me. <br />
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I have other theories but in actual fact, I don't really know.<br />
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It could be due to the fact that I learned to read really young. I don't remember ever learning my ABCs. I just knew how to read. I was told my grandpa used to seat me on his lap when he read the newspaper and then he would read aloud while moving his finger under the words. I moved out of his house when I was two years old. So that tells you how young I was.<br />
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It could be due to the fact that I loved reading. My father had to punish me to stop me from reading so much. I'd wait till he went to sleep before taking out my torch light to read under the blankets. Then the next morning I'd be like a zombie and he just KNEW I had been reading, instead of sleeping. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop me reading.<br />
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It could be due to the fact that I loved stories. So I'd read anything and everything I could find. I finished all the kid story books and encyclopedias in the house by the time I was ten years old. Both my parents are teachers and we had books everywhere. At one point I became desperate enough to climb to the highest shelves. AND I found my mother's treasure trove of Mills and Boons. Did I mention I was ten? I guess I learned the pattern of exposition + complication + climax + denouement + resolution pretty young.<br />
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It could also be due to the fact that I liked to analyse stuff. I would break down stories to their basic form. I would keep lists of foreign phrases that looked good in stories. I even kept lists of first names and surnames that could be given to characters. And yes I wrote stories in my school exercise books and when I ran out of pages, I'd toss the book somewhere and continue in other blank books.<br />
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It's been nearly half a century.. and I'm still doing the same things. Reading, writing, analysing...<br />
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So, I guess if you want to be good at something, if you want to be excellent at something, you need to find something you have a certain aptitude for. Something you have a knack for. Something people can't stop you doing and doing and doing. Even when it didn't need to be done.<br />
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<i>Of course then you need to see if you can make money out of it. I haven't tried to make money out of my writing because it is something I do for pleasure and something I do when I want to do it and not when someone forces me to do it.</i><br />
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RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-77486627703168251892017-11-07T00:54:00.001+08:002017-11-07T00:54:08.552+08:00Finding A MUET Band FiverEvery day I walk the corridors of my school, smiling at my young students, exchanging greetings or even jokes. I absolutely love it if they can pick up on something I mentioned, put a twist on it and sling it back at me. In English, of course. That practically guarantees my undivided attention because I'd be thinking,"Could this be a potential Band 5??" Notice that I don't say Band 6. Band Sixers belong to a totally different category. So let's stick to talking about Band Fivers.<br /><br />It takes time and effort to get Band 5 in the MUET test and 2.5 semesters in Form 6 isn't enough time for me to bring an average English student to that level. So what do I need to find? Someone who has maturity when it comes to arguments, someone who has a good command of English and someone who is widely-read. <br /><br />If I get someone like that, all he or she needs is a nudge, a push, some General Paper materials to read and exposure to the test formats. And of course practices. Lots of practices. <br /><br />All the others will have to be content with Band 4 and lower.RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-57701861775655933922017-11-07T00:30:00.000+08:002017-11-06T23:59:16.703+08:00How To Excel The Simple WayI learned early how to excel at something. I just needed to do it over and over and over again until others have given up and until I know it better than anybody else in the vicinity. The only thing I had to overcome was my tendency to get bored fast. <br />
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So I also learned to short-circuit this tendency by switching focus to other things but things that are still related to that something I wanted to excel at. For example, in university, I had to master Lewis structures. After a few dots and dashes, it got a bit boring. So I diverged into finding out who Gilbert Lewis was and where he lived and why he came up with these structures (and who came up with dot diagrams)... well, you get the picture. I went to the library (no Internet in my day) and borrowed books that had nothing to do with my upcoming exams. None of my friends wanted to study with me. But I understood Lewis structures a shade better than my other course-mates. <i>Although I'm not sure my lecturers appreciated my putting the extra info in my exam answers.</i><br />
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When I started working, I applied the same approach to the many challenges thrown at me. Such as helming a debate team. <i>Incidentally, doesn't it just irritate you when a debate maestro can't explain to you (a raw recruit) how to teach others to debate?</i> So I took copious notes during competitions. I ran from one room to another, trying to gather as much info as I could. I assumed that rebuttals or POVs used by a team in one debate would be reused by them in the next debate (and most times, I was right!... the lazy bums..)<br />
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I drove my debaters nuts by second and triple and quadruple-guessing them. By playing devil's advocate triple times over. By asking them to prepare 20 rebuttals for imagined points. Most of which didn't get used. BUT.. BUT it made them think and think and think. <br />
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Did I get bored? Yes, I did. So I switched focus to finding out what voice modulations worked best for a debater, what approach worked (sharp & witty, warm & friendly, bright & sassy or focused & grim), how to stand at the table and in front of the microphone, how to walk from offstage to onstage... and even the colour of the papers used. Even the angle of the head when delivering a punchline. Then when I got bored (AGAIN) and felt there was no challenge coming from the immediate environment, I started teaching other school teachers how to helm their debate teams. I suspect some teachers thought I was mad. Then debate competitions became interesting again. I don't know what I would have done next if I hadn't had to move on. <br />
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Now I use this to tell my students how to pick their life's career. I said CHOOSE something you feel passion for and do anything & everything to do with it over and over and over again. Until one day when you look around, nobody else is still doing it (maybe because they have lost interest or have given up) and voila! you have become the resident expert. Then you can cash in on that. But it's got to be something you have passion for, something you do 24/7 and yet still complain that you need more time for it... otherwise you'd never last the distance.<br />
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RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-74465618860128489272017-11-06T20:57:00.001+08:002017-11-07T01:58:15.809+08:00Why I'm Still Not Bored After All These Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When I first became a teacher, it surprised many of my friends. I suppose there were different reasons... I wasn't obvious teacher material when I was in school. I was too much of a class clown at times, too bookish to front a classroom at other times... but the one person who was most surprised was myself. The only reason that mattered to me was how I viewed the teaching profession as a boring one. And I was more easily bored than I should be. <br />
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I wanted to be a journalist with different assignments every time and never the same view to look at (so I supposed). Unfortunately for me, the year I applied for a course in university was also the year major riots took place in my hometown and my mother was traumatised to see the reporters (and specifically one who was brother to my aunt) getting the best views in between the Federal Reserve Units and the rioters. 1986.. what a year. Just a year earlier and I could have been a reporter now. Ah well. So I said okay, let's just get into a university with minimum trauma to the parental units. <i>My dad would've been 'traumatised' by my mum's drama if I had just steamrollered over her objections. </i><br />
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I gave myself two years to work in a school before abdicating. But before I realised it, it's been 24 years. Have I been bored? No. Stressed? Traumatised? Amused? Shocked? Exasperated? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. And more.<br />
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Shockingly there was much for me to find fascinating in school. Besides the students and the multifarious ways their minds could twist and warp, school offered unlimited options for fun and discovery. Of course I had to find these fun 'projects' myself. One year, it was scuba diving lessons (teachers and students get discounts!). Another year, it was weeks spent in various environmentally-amazing and refreshing spots like Batu Niah, Langkawi and Port Dickson. Another time it was debate sessions in various towns and cities (for both students and teachers). And that was just when I was a teacher in school. Not counting the nine years I was in the administrative departments.<br />
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And still I meet colleagues who think it is boring. Well, it wouldn't be boring if you looked for projects to do. Even if just to put a fresh spin on the day.<br />
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So what am I doing now? Last week, I came across a really fascinating singer on YouTube called Dimash Kudaibergen. Besides his unique vocals, unusual ways of interpreting songs and an incredible ability to touch people's hearts via songs they don't understand, he also chose wonderful songstories to breathe life into. Okay, that sounded snarky but I'm serious about the way his singing could pull you in and make you laugh or cry. <br />
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Part of my arsenal as an English language teacher is the bringing of stories into my classes. My young students (fresh escapees from Form Five) usually need lots of input about the 'world out there'. And also the world within their souls. The easiest way to expose them to such things is to bring new stories into their classroom, preferably presented in an appealing package. Happily for me, Dimash is a very appealing package. Only 23 years of age, he looks like one of those Korean stars who are so important to my students. From the Chinese program 'The Singer 2017' alone, I have already identified five different stories to bring into my classes.<br />
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1. Culture Conflict (Song : Late Autumn)</div>
2. Broken Promises (Song : Daididau) - <i>although it turned out his wife hadn't really left him</i><br />
3. <span class="gmail-inline_editor_value"><span class="gmail-rendered_qtext">Despair (Song : SOS d'un terrien en detresse)<br />4. How A Child Feels About Loss of Parents (Song : Daybreak)</span></span></div>
<span class="gmail-inline_editor_value"><span class="gmail-rendered_qtext">5. Our Weeping Earth (Earth Song)</span></span></div>
<span class="gmail-inline_editor_value"><span class="gmail-rendered_qtext">At the very least, I will have opened my students' eyes to opera (in small doses), songs in Mandarin, Kazakh, French, English... and of course, gorgeous and crazily-talented Dimash.</span></span><br />
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RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-2133687062143449132016-09-18T19:21:00.000+08:002017-11-06T23:57:18.462+08:00Email Address Conundrum<div dir="ltr">
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When I first started teaching Form Six students many eons ago, the only things on my mind were finishing the syllabus (I was teaching Literature, besides English Language) and polishing their abilities to retain information, organise information into the form required by the question and present the info in an academic fashion. However now, things have changed. Not only do I have to scrabble my way along the minefield of today's schools (mines that begin with e- or online-), I also find myself having to deal with social pitfalls. Not MY social pitfalls, THEIRS.<br />
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And one of the most interesting is their chosen email addresses. <i>Yeah well, let's deal with one social pitfall at one time.</i> One of the ways I make sure my MUET students at the very least know how to attach a document to their email is by asking them to send me their homework via email. I do this because I want to ensure that they arrive at university campuses with rudimentary knowledge of online communication systems. While focusing on this, I came across some very interesting (and sometimes breathtaking - in a choking manner) discoveries. Most students I knew used very creative email addresses. Some of the most <i>creative </i>I have come across in my last ten years of teaching were <a href="mailto:gurlsexy@hotmail.com">gurlsexy@hotmail.com</a>, <a href="mailto:wanitaidaman@mail.com">wanitaidaman@mail.com</a>, <a href="mailto:ladykillerXXX@gmail.com">ladykillerXXX@gmail.com</a>. Sometimes I even force them to change their email addresses when they ask me to check their resumes. Imagine sending an application letter and resume to a top bank and there your contact email is <a href="mailto:hackertothemax@email.com">hackertothemax@email.com</a> or <a href="mailto:bombanarchy@hotmail.com">bombanarchy@hotmail.com</a>. I even got into a long argument via WhatsApp with an ex student because she had a tripleXrated email address (a body part was mentioned in slang) and she insisted it was who she was, and she wasn't about to compromise her integrity for money or fame. Eventually she grumpily created one email address just for formal use. I told her those people in the HR dept knew she chose that email tag because that was foremost in her thinking at that time. What would her chances of success be???<br />
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Needless to say, it has become my mission to ensure that none of my Form 6 students will be allowed to leave school without changing their email tag for a better one. Or at least create a secondary one.</div>
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It seems this is a worldwide problem. <br />
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49 People Who Really Regret Their Teenage Email Address <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/lukebailey/puddin-pants?utm_term=.pwPYz1EEj#.umLJb977x">https://www.buzzfeed.com/lukebailey/puddin-pants?utm_term=.pwPYz1EEj#.umLJb977x</a><br />
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RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-7120758716819071642016-08-16T21:56:00.001+08:002017-11-06T21:32:57.680+08:00Dulce Et Decorum Est<div dir="ltr">
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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, <br /> Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, <br /> Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs <br /> And towards our distant rest began to trudge. <br /> Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots <br /> But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; <br /> Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots <br /> Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.<br /> Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, <br /> Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; <br /> But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, <br /> And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . . <br /> Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, <br /> As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. <br /> In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, <br /> He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. <br /> If in some smothering dreams you too could pace <br /> Behind the wagon that we flung him in, <br /> And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, <br /> His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; <br /> If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood <br /> Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, <br /> Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud<br /> Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, <br /> My friend, you would not tell with such high zest<br /> To children ardent for some desperate glory, <br /> The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est <br /> Pro patria mori. <br /></div>
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<i><span class="">by Wilfred Owen<br /> Thought to have been written between 8 October 1917 and March, 1918</span></i></div>
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RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-49233172760578769222016-08-16T21:47:00.000+08:002017-11-06T21:33:25.742+08:00The Walking Wounded<div dir="ltr"><div><div>When people talk about 'the walking wounded', they normally think of soldiers returning from a battlefield. I usually think of a war poem I studied in university... Wilfred Owen's 'Dulce Et Decorum Est'. Oh man, that was such a gory poem. I could actually hear the sounds of the wounds... viscera spilling out into the open where it was never meant to be... <br><br></div>But today I am thinking of different 'walking wounded'. In my many years of navigating the morass of relationships, I have been continually astonished by the level of woundedness I have encountered in people I meet. They walk upright and smile when they would and sleep when they should... but they carry such deep injuries within. I almost wish they had physical injuries instead... at least these injuries would be exposed to the air and dried sooner or later. But emotional and mental injuries can live forever within psyches. Like an abscess, they sit inert but causing pain. And these wounds continue poisoning the people... causing new friendships to be ruined and new hopes to be dashed.<br><br></div><div>Sometimes I feel drawn to these people... and it is almost as if I can hear them crying out for help. The problem is when I reach out to help (even though I have no idea what to do), their automatic reaction is to snarl back and flash their claws. And what makes things sadder is that they may even hurt their loved ones, causing fresh wounds themselves. <br><br></div><div>:`(<br></div></div> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-53778900389779137572016-02-10T16:47:00.000+08:002016-02-10T17:20:44.074+08:00The 'Fun' of Pre University Exam Registrations<div dir="ltr">
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Twice a year, the pre university exam results come out and excite ecstasy, happiness, horror and even nonchalant unconcern among the students. The lecturers are usually just tied up in knots. The ecstasy or despair comes later, after the analyses are done. But I don't want to talk about that. <br />
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Today is the second last day before the deadline of repeat exam registrations and already the kids have made my colleagues and I feel like strangling them. <br />
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First, some of them buy the PIN at Bank Simpanan Nasional at the very last minute (which would be tomorrow). Then they happily whatsapp the PIN to the poor teacher in charge of Exams, thinking everything will be fine. They will have had two weeks to ponder their options... two weeks to decide which paper to repeat and therefore two weeks to buy this PIN. But most will wait till the last minute. Poor teacher will be struggling to access the website together with countless other Exams teachers all over Malaysia.<br />
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Second, despite countless briefings (at least two briefings every semester), the same questions get asked:</div>
- Do I register myself or do I ask the Exams lecturer? (Ans. : The lecturer.)</div>
- Do I buy one PIN per subject or one PIN for all? (Ans. : one PIN for all)</div>
- Why do I need to whatsapp the picture of the PIN to Mdm J? (Ans. : Because you may copy the PIN wrongly if you retype it)<br />
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Third, almost every semester, some bright kid will msg the PIN image to my colleague, thinking that she is psychic and is able to know who the sender is and which subject the sender wishes to repeat. Luckily my colleague is rather patient and just breathes fire & brimstone back at the hapless kid. Sounds like a small matter, right? But once repeated msgs and calls were left unanswered. Later we found out the student was at work. I don't know how my colleague managed it but the registration was successful. <br />
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I wish I could tattoo the instructions into the kids. If only they didn't look so sweet and innocent...<br />
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RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-77924038584020058702015-10-16T16:12:00.001+08:002017-11-06T21:33:25.749+08:00Heartbroken Yet Fighting<p dir="ltr">It seems to me that I am meeting more and more young people from broken lives or families. I'm wondering if all this while, there have always been broken families and lives everywhere or has the world gotten worse?</p> <p dir="ltr">Yet these young people still fight on to find meaning and stability in their lives. They still laugh and smile with their friends and classmates, never showing how much they are bleeding inside.</p> <p dir="ltr">I suppose there is no point in railing against a cruel or unjust world... because they cannot change the outside elements or factors. They can only change how they respond to their experiences. </p> <p dir="ltr">So far, the majority I meet have shown admirable resilience... although a few have the tendency to snarl and snap when people accidentally touch on sensitive topics.</p> <p dir="ltr">What I do notice is how all of them find their anchor in God. <br> </p> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-11279445319432890532015-10-04T20:42:00.000+08:002015-10-04T20:43:16.615+08:00The Little Things You Do<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div>I was on FB checking on some stuff (yes, my FB account is still dead but I have a shell account for school groups) when I came across my ex-student's fb. Let's call him Max.<br><br></div>Way back when, Max was a brooding young man with too much pain for someone so young. There was so much loss, rejection and anger filling up his heart and mind. When my eyes rested upon him, my heart hurt for I saw wounds I couldn't put a bandage over. Sometimes I wished I could just take him home and get him to smile. But of course, I couldn't do that. My house would be overflowing if I gave in to every urge to take a kid home. But that was a long time ago. Max was fortunate because an angel smiled on him and he was given an opportunity to join a training program which took him away from painful home and prepared him for a well-paying job with an MNC. There was a time when his FB account showed statuses that spoke of wanting to give up and go home. I prayed that he wouldn't.<br><br></div>Fast forward to today... and yes, he finished his program. Yes he is now working at the MNC and doing well. And he JUST got married :D<br><br></div>How I wish for all my students to have happy endings like Max's. I know I know... his life isn't ended yet and he still has a looong way to go. But at least he has a solid platform under his feet. At least when he has children, he can offer them a better life than the one he had. <br><br></div>The little things teachers and parents do can make a difference in a young person's life... even if it is just a sharing of information of opportunities... or an encouraging push towards a program. Not all the young people will respond positively... but at least they know of options.<br></div> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-89781701093300137822015-10-01T00:17:00.001+08:002015-10-01T00:17:10.465+08:00Developing Obsessions and All<p dir="ltr">An old friend commented that I 'know my stuff' and that puzzled me for a bit. By the time anyone reaches my age, he ir she better know their stuff. Or risk winning the 'Slow Learner' award.</p> <p dir="ltr">But then I do tend to know things intensively and exhaustively. That is because I develop a near-obsession about new things. I like new things because well... they are new. So I always want to figure out what they are, where they come from, why they are like that and all things related. If I were to create a mind map about what I want to learn about new stuff, the resulting paper required would be knee deep. Metaphorically speaking. </p> <p dir="ltr">Perhaps I have a psychological condition but I need to know enough about something until I am able to reach a sort of critical mass and I am able to say,"Yes, X is _______ !" And that adjective or noun should be able to describe X to a T.</p> <p dir="ltr">It took me 15 years to reach critical mass about debate. And what a great 15 years they were....</p> <p dir="ltr">And yes, in the process, I have gathered tons of 'useless' facts. Yet I treasure each and every one of them.<br> </p> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-9938810682238860032015-09-30T23:31:00.001+08:002017-11-06T21:33:25.757+08:00Raw Masterpieces<p dir="ltr">It's been 23 years since I first stepped into a school as a teacher and I haven't lost the fascinated feeling I get when I'm at work. The feeling of sometimes being awestruck in silence when I watch my students...</p> <p dir="ltr">To me, each of them are raw works of art... potential masterpieces. They themselves are the artists and they hold their own palettes and brushes. Yes, there are times I feel like screaming in frustration ... or like grabbing one by the shoulders and shaking him or her awake from a dreamfog. A lot of such times... but isn't a masterpiece usually born of frenzied energy and angst? </p> <p dir="ltr">And now I teach pre university students... it seems like ALL of them are brimming with angst. I used to feel like I was the one holding the brush and that I HAD to do this or do that... but I have come to realise that these masterpieces-in-the-making need to make their own decisions of where the brushstrokes need to go and how much paint to use and when to apply the colours...</p> <p dir="ltr">It is so hard to watch my students learn about themselves sometimes ... but there is no other way for them to journey towards the critical point of self knowledge... and then off they go to a wonderful new place.</p> <p dir="ltr">And I can't go with them. I can only watch... and wait for the next batch. But then I know, every new group will have something else for me to observe and learn. </p> <p dir="ltr">This is why I haven't tired of my work yet. </p> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-72050435986933059792014-08-05T22:20:00.000+08:002014-08-05T22:21:27.617+08:00My New Passion : Gardening!<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Old friends would gasp in amazement if they knew that I was now interested in gardening. And if you had told me two years ago that this would happen, I'd have gasped louder.<br> <br></div>But then here I am, wrist deep in black earth, getting all excited at the sight of earthworms... did you know that earthworms improve the soil? Well, I have a lot of clay soil to be improved...<br><br></div>Actually I got into this out of necessity. After getting a headache trying to get pesticide-free veg and looking at the prices rising around me AND reading up about the crazy things going on in and outside Malaysia, I decided to start planting my own vegetables. A) I'd know for sure I'm eating pesticide-free greens. B) I'd defray some of the cost of feeding my family. C) I'd not die straight away if the shops closed for weeks. Don't laugh...I'm deadly serious. The Tanduo Lahad Datu scare was no joke and spending four days in Tawau just before the holidays opened my eyes real big. (Hint : camouflage, wings)<br> <br></div>Anyway this post is about gardening. <br><br>I was never into gardening because my experience with plants have not been very encouraging. My mum took care of a row of daisies for a year plus and they bloomed for her. She turned them over to me and they died within 3 months. I watered her jungle of plants for years and never experienced even a tinge of desire to plant some of my own.<br> <br></div>But things changed after I moved into my own house and acquired lots of reddish clay soil. My dad helped plant some grass. I watered and babied the patches because I preferred green to red. My mum donated rows of her flower pots to me. The ones that survived were the cacti and the bougainvillea. Yay. <br> <br>I planted vegetables. The okra, tomatoes and chillies grew. The pumpkins (yellow and white) never even sprouted. One balsam plant grew... where the heck did it come from?? My long beans produced a lot for a while before they died. My husband planted some fruit trees and they grew...but then stopped growing...<br> </div><div>And I started to do a lot of reading about this puzzle called gardening.<br></div><div><br></div>Then my school was given the task of establishing an organic garden. Thankfully the principal chose another better-qualified lady to head the team. I played observer. But the more I watched, the more I became interested. Especially when they started using a microbial inoculant EM1 on their plants. The effect was amazing... leaves grew like crazy and plants practically burst into bushes. Well...you get the idea.<br> <br>So I got hold of this EM1 and tried it myself. My stunted fruit trees started putting out new leaves by the dozen! My kaffir lime trees revived...my lemon australia tree came back from the half-dead! My chillies grew big and fat! My remayong stalks became remayong plants...!<br> <br></div>I'm bit. By the gardening bug.<br></div><br>The EM1 is not meant to be used diluted straight out of the bottle (RM25 per bottle). It needs to be activated first.<br><br>This is the formula I used :<br><br> Mix in one 1.5L drink bottle (recycled and washed clean)<br>- two capsful of EM1 (I used the EM1 bottle cap)<br>- 2 spoonsful of molasses/brown sugar or white sugar (if that's all you have)<br>- 1 pinch of salt <br>- a few slices of lemon rind/lemongrass/pandan leaf (for scent) -optional-<br> - water that was used to wash rice (just wash 2 cups or so of rice kernels in non-chlorinated water, strain the kernels out...water should be milky in colour)<br><br>Shake the bottle and then pour some of the mix out into two other bottles.<br> <br>Now you have three partly-filled bottles. Squeeze the plastic bottle before tightening the cap. Gas will be released over the next few days and you don't want the bottles to blow up. <br><br>Now keep the three bottles in a cool place, out of sunlight.<br> <br>Let the gas out on the 4th day.<br><br>By the 7th day, the mix should be ready for use. You will know it was a success if the mix doesn't smell bad. Mine smells a bit lemony (I used some lemon slices) and fermented.<br> <br>Before spraying on plants, mix 10ml into a medium sized pail of non-chlorinated water. <br><br>Spray on the leaves and on the earth.<br><br>Do this 2 atau 3x a week. Pick a nice sunny day. Rain will wash off the good stuff. <br> <br><div><div><div><div><div><div>Then just wait for the good things to happen!<br><br></div><div>P/S EM1 is not a fertilizer. Google it up.<br></div><div><br> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-82767198979255056732014-03-19T07:42:00.001+08:002017-11-06T21:33:25.754+08:00The Joy and The Pain of Creating A School Magazine<p dir="ltr">Last year the admin thought it a great idea for me to be put in charge of the school magazine. Wow. Gee. Hooray. </p> <p dir="ltr">So I got to work. I kinda made a mash of the committee meetings... LOL, there were none! With teachers anyway. But plenty of gatherings with my editorial board. Plenty of pizza too. </p> <p dir="ltr">Went through a steep learning curve, learned how to use software (that I won't mention as I can't even afford to breathe on the CD box) and brushed off dust from old skills in design. I may prefer to dress simply and sometimes monochromatic but I know what looks good on a cover. I even dragged in an old friend Sufri into designing the cover (lucky thing he's school alumni). </p> <p dir="ltr">Well, Bornean 2013 is done and I'll hold the finished product in my grubby hands today... yay! I consider it my first draft. Bornean 2014 will be a groundbreaker. </p> <p dir="ltr">Can't wait... :-) </p> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-54775982117889228102014-03-19T07:07:00.001+08:002017-11-06T21:33:25.746+08:00I Love Being In School!<p dir="ltr">I was looking for some info in my blog this morning when I noticed the number of posts I'd been making the last few years. Wow, only two last year and two the year before that. </p> <p dir="ltr">Heh heh. It's a sure sign that I'm in a happy place. Angst is a great trigger for prose... no wonder the most prolific writers tend to be the ones struggling with lots of personal grief. Well, to be fair, I love to write whatever my personal feelings may be at any given time. It's just that I've been writing more on my other blog. </p> <p dir="ltr">I'm very happy with my career at the moment because I'm where I should be.. in school. Any school will do... as long as there are students in it and I get to teach English. <br> </p> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-2094666186365589232013-04-30T20:53:00.001+08:002013-04-30T20:53:44.224+08:00Debate Competitions : Fun Yet Tiring!Debate competitions are so tiring! Yet I enjoy them so much. Thrilling exhaustion...It's an oxymoron, I know.<br><br>This year, my school was assigned the task of hosting the Kota Kinabalu Student English Language Debate District Level for 2013. We spent the last two months in meetings and preparations. Also some bickering and elbowing.. but hey, what's a big event without some conflict? The guy in charge, Eric C had to deal with some putting out of fires but he's good at doing that, so why not?<br> <br>In the end, everything turned out right. <br><br>The speakers and timekeepers were primed and trained to do their work according to the rules and regulations. Although one or two stuck to their scripts like Nazi commandants and refused to deviate from the prepared list of names. One of my friends Audrey J was introduced as Dayang Nurul (something like that) and she found that amusing. We also had a debater who didn't wait to be invited to speak. Luckily I was one of the judges on duty at that time, so when the startled chairperson stared at me with big eyes, I just gestured for her to let things be. And I'm so glad that I shared debate horror stories with them, for in one room, a stopwatch actually stopped (as has happened in past history). The smart girl had her backup timepiece to continue the count.<br> <br>The rooms were set up, although we had to exile two whole forms to the hall for a whole morning and may probably have to lavish some TLC on the counsellors. Cheesecake should do the job. My class (recalcitrant hardheaded but lovable Science geeks!) had to do a thorough cleaning of their room and I found it dismaying that the thought of All Saints or Lok Yuk students staring at their mess (one hour quarantine) could make them budge where my months of haranguing didn't work. <br> <br>The registrations went well... and all it took were a gaggle of ushers (students with labels on lanyards), teachers with forms and foghorn voices. And labels and maps and signs.<br><br>Let's not talk about the admin part.. letters, speeches etc. And of course, the best part were the debates themselves ;)<br> <br><br> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-31559631659949082502013-04-30T20:24:00.000+08:002013-04-30T20:25:02.631+08:00Been Busy Working and LivingDear Blog<br><br>I'm so sorry I let you gather dust and cobwebs... but I've been busy working..and living. Working in Maktab Sabah is great, least of all just 'cause I get to be with students. Students are fun to be with and most of them actually want to learn something. Their only agenda is to score better marks or improve their skills. My legal eagle other half scolds me sometimes for trusting people but you know what, assuming people have ulterior motives is very tiring. Plus it's such a waste of my time. I prefer to opt out of that existence.<br> <br>As for living, I've been tending to my new home... gardening is pretty exhausting work. My best 'witnesses' are my back and my arms. Oh, and I found out that feeding birds with dried rice kernels makes them think all other stuff in the area is meant for them too. Such as my newly-sprouted vegetable seeds. Sigh. But I do like them birds.<br> RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-10899470156459171232012-02-13T19:07:00.000+08:002012-07-11T15:03:53.567+08:00I Deactivated My Facebook... and what a relief it is!<br>A year ago, I reached a point in my life where I felt like deactivating my Facebook.  I'd found myself checking Facebook every few hours, just to see who was posting what.   And at the same time, I was seeing little spats flare up all over.  The reasons were petty (to my way of thinking).  Someone made a comment to a friend, a third person thought it was a dumb comment (even though it wasn't directed to him) and made the mistake of saying so.  You can guess the rest.<br /><br>But friends persuaded me to rethink.  So I did.  <br /><br> They said it was a great way to inform teachers of activities.  <br><br />So I created groups and added teachers.  Later I made some of them admins.  They didn't need me around.<br /><br>They said it was a great way to share photos.<br /><br>Unfortunately I don't really like sharing my photos, unless the photos were of school events.<br /><br>They said FB helped keep friends in contact.<br /><br>I gave it a go... and found myself using email and SMS more often than FB, using various apps such as Fring, Meebo and Whatsapp.  And I was only in touch with less than 10% of those in my FB list.  Besides I haven't changed my phone number or email address for years.  If people want to contact me, it's easily done.  And FB friends are of many sorts; the ones you chat with everyday, the ones you see once a year and the ones who you don't really know at all but added after meeting once at a social gathering.<br /><br>I also didn't like the way information got passed on way too easily and way too fast in Facebook.  Regardless of whether or not the story was true.  Strangely corrections aren't passed on so fast.  And can you imagine having a meltdown on FB and then being consoled, sympathised-with and egged-on by FB people.  Even after you'd cooled down, people would tend to remember the meltdown more than anything.  So if you have 1849 'friends', that's 1849 memories.  <br /><br>Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can set limits etcetera etcetera... but I wasn't willing to do that every post every photo and every sneeze.<br /><br>So, two days ago, I pulled the plug on my account.  <br /><br>Guess what?  It felt good.<br /><br>For me, a relationship is best handled, one to one.  Not one-to-one, with both friends' FB friends looking on.  Yes, I know there is private messaging... but that's the same as an email or an sms, isn't it?<br /><br>Well, let's see how I feel in yet another year.  Perhaps I may change my mind and reactivate my account.  Perhaps.<br /><br>Postscript<br /><br>In the ensuing months, I reactivated and deactivated my Facebook account two times over. More often than not, I ended up wasting more hours than I could spare. Well, perhaps that is me. Perhaps other people have found better ways of handling their relationship with their Facebook account. But I think mine is staying down for the count. <br />RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-54310964482232677402012-01-11T18:52:00.003+08:002012-01-11T19:49:33.015+08:00Change of Work Place Again!I am moving workplaces again :)<br />
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Last Friday I received a letter calling me to a briefing for Form Six Academic Teacher placements. My whole day perked up. Would I finally be able to go back to school? The word 'promotion' was also in the title so that made things a bit more shiny and bright and sparkling. <i>At this point, I am tempted to use the synonyms 'dazzling', 'gleaming', 'radiant', 'resplendent' and 'CORUSCATING' but that may be overkill.</i><br />
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Anyway I went for the briefing last Monday and HOORAY I'M POSTED BACK TO SCHOOL!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcgO9YtvF4RXsgbMS8gar2m2DNgD5MQ71M2MS2fF7bOh2BZ16xxZNL-n4DvGYggWljDpMdLOYe-BIexIIYilFOKMY3Lj6N1mImGhL7E5byyn3A0e2qVzfu73CU5ZV6L3kDEC7/s1600/yellowsmiley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcgO9YtvF4RXsgbMS8gar2m2DNgD5MQ71M2MS2fF7bOh2BZ16xxZNL-n4DvGYggWljDpMdLOYe-BIexIIYilFOKMY3Lj6N1mImGhL7E5byyn3A0e2qVzfu73CU5ZV6L3kDEC7/s1600/yellowsmiley.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The strange thing was that after nearly three years at the PPD, I finally accepted my fate. In December, I began planning for 2012. I had BIG plans. BIG programs. All of a sudden, I have to abandon all those plans. It's so ironic that the moment I stop hoping for something, it happens. But perhaps there is a lesson for me to learn here :)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi36bKui9Me-aGOtwJLlXqYUxQLLLv_Ehth8YJvmJhRn3dW0IN7KDWrcp2GRKgAkEGS9g4LGINz93jgh9jcaFy3j99CtERdb3krYQFmKyfs48J3zChFMbDbDE2LD51Q-TOmZEA/s1600/happiness-jpg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi36bKui9Me-aGOtwJLlXqYUxQLLLv_Ehth8YJvmJhRn3dW0IN7KDWrcp2GRKgAkEGS9g4LGINz93jgh9jcaFy3j99CtERdb3krYQFmKyfs48J3zChFMbDbDE2LD51Q-TOmZEA/s320/happiness-jpg1.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22813135.post-13558716639230264532011-10-01T11:40:00.002+08:002011-10-01T11:48:33.008+08:00Weddings and Prudence... Oxymoron?Some people seem to think that weddings and prudence cannot go together. A wedding has to be BIG ... even if there's no money to pay the bills for the froth and flash.<br />
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I've heard tales of young couples maximising their credit cards just to pay for one reception at a hotel because they wanted to impress people. But will their financial troubles later on impress those same people? I've even heard of grooms borrowing money from Ah Longs (moneylenders who charge extortionate rates in exchange for no-questions-asked loans). What on earth happened to the common sense normally found in every human being?<br />
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What is the point in looking impressive for one night and suffering for countless years later?<br />
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What is the point in borrowing money you cannot pay back from moneylenders (and risk broken limbs) or money from relatives (and risk broken relationships) or money from colleagues (and risk losing support at work)?<br />
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For a Christian, the most important part of the wedding should be the MASS. Where the couple promises their troth to each other in front of God. That is where the emphasis should be. Then afterwards, guests can be invited to a small brunch or a big dinner (depending on available budget in your own pocket, not someone else's!). <br />
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If a relative complains, saying that one should throw a big bash to uphold the pride of the clan, then ask that relative to sponsor the big bash that is so important for the pride of the clan. If one is lucky, he may fork out a few thousand.<br />
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Then the couple can focus time, energy and resources to the creation and maintenance of a strong family. <br />
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But I understand, what may seem to be a simple Math problem is actually a complicated emotional issue. It may take a strong personality to withstand the perceived expectations of society. Well, one will need a strong personality to face enraged Ah Longs and upset relatives, won't one? So would it really matter in the end?<br />
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I suppose it's a matter of 'Choose Your Poison'. Die by 'Conservative Wedding Memories' or by 'Exciting Financial Ruin' :P<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0bxrJZ5KToi4iOqMF7iMPtx4nIZpRXhpLW5h1KXsUbduMosldBiCspRi40E-hU5mJwGwEpW1O124WKm6FoTHbeGosEyX7wbG-67ZwaqrTRGW4OIiJwyH6tFWtFNfH4u5nrzFm/s1600/alg_wedding_topper_money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0bxrJZ5KToi4iOqMF7iMPtx4nIZpRXhpLW5h1KXsUbduMosldBiCspRi40E-hU5mJwGwEpW1O124WKm6FoTHbeGosEyX7wbG-67ZwaqrTRGW4OIiJwyH6tFWtFNfH4u5nrzFm/s320/alg_wedding_topper_money.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>RoslynCThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03094526193425436146noreply@blogger.com2