I cant really put a finger on what genre it is, but i guess its pop? Its not really the harmonious type of song i like, and certain parts just jar at me. In all though the song is quite unique and is a fresh listen worthy of our time =D
Nice song, sexy solo. Conventional music-listeners may find the starting boring and pointless, but it isn't. Listen to the whole song, feel what it wants to say to you.
Next two papers are Chem paper 2 and paper 1 in the morning, goddamnit Edmund no morning papers on those days so i gotta go myself. The trip there and back takes up more time than the paper itself. =/
I am not one for memory work. I remember by events, by big pictures and i elaborate with logic. I cannot cope with the nitty-bitty rote learning of Chemistry. Looking at organic chem, i can read, i can understand, i know why this plus this is that but when i try to recall i cannot. I cannot bring up conditions, or reactants at will. I cannot pull properties right out of my mind to compare them.
Chemistry gives me stress like no other subject can, bio couldnt, maths can't, even econs with its technicalities is simpler for me.
I wonder why i actually agreed to take chem. I regretted soon after making the decision to take science, yet as always filial piety and asian values and whatever shits been pumped into my head tells me to just grit and endure it.
But really, whats the point of a science course where i get Bs and Cs and Ds and worse, than an arts course where i can get straight As? Silly me.
Finally finished the book. The last chapters were an exhilarating ride through the mind of Hannibal and Clarice, playing up on all the little details spread out in the book. The characters made real beyond compare, it invites the reader to believe, to sympathise, to agonise whether they should turn the page, for fear something horrid may happen.
Unlike many books now where everything is plain good vs evil, Hannibal invites you to make that decision for yourself. Every reader would have their own perception, their own idea of who they're supporting, who disgusts them and who they admire. In reality, it is because of the simple stories that keep classifying the world into the good and the evil, that we constantly forget that good and evil are merely matters of perspective. The author has made the characters of his book so real you might forget it was fiction, you might turn your television on and be startled that Hannibals going to the Emmys, before realising its just Anthony Hopkins.
The end of the book invites us to delve into the mind of the characters, for us to realise how they're mind works. It stimulates you to finalise your very own pictures of Hannibal, to make it and to keep it till the end of time or until he arises again in the form of another novel. A wonderful end that leaves you curious and yearning, yet not empty, as you know the characters so well you do not need to read to guess what they'd be doing. The extreme intellect, control and rationality of Dr Lecter, kept from absolute genius by a slight madness. The little love of Ms Starling, with her faith and her strength and her passionate independence. The various characters played out in a setting of madness and revenge, sadism and greed, all so believable, so alive that you know them as you would a friend. Goodbye.
I like Hanibbal, it was a good book.
And heres a song that all of us can take a lesson from. We Are Stars, played by a multitude of great people.
Reading Hannibal now, though i know i should be studying. Its a really well written book, and its subtle hints and little notations make it an enjoyably excrutiating mental journey through calculated, genius sadism. The characters are richly drawn, their emotions expressed through little words and statements. Not blatantly, as books often do now, as if the reader needed to be told straight in the face to understand.
Reading the book gives me chills at times, slight feelings of disgust and yet i am enraptured by it, by the smartness by which the writer lays out the story. I like his distinctive style of writing, not similar to Dean Koontz, but yet it thrills me the same way Koontz does. A pity i do not seem to have access to many of his books, and there doesn't seem to be a bookfair approaching.
Either way, here's Bleeding Heart by Angra, i believe i had posted the lyrics before. Enjoy it, its nice, its meaningful, its a love ballad done by a power metal band, but it plays out just like a classic.
This morning Edmund's dad was talking about creativity (i think they were talking about some book or soemthing) while i semi-slept, about how the way to unleash your creativity is making yourself like a hollow bamboo. He went on to say that getting in touch with nature is a way of lettting that creativity be unleashed since when you're alone in the forest, you can lose the human persona that you'd built over your life and be like you really are, an unwritten script upon which the words of life and duty are scrawled upon.
Humans need borders and classification to make the world simpler for us to understand, such that we can partake in activities more efficiently. Our roads are straight, our houses have walls, our blocks have numbers, it is all one concerted effect by the human race to bring the world under control. By doing so we put borders around our mind, we remember norms and obligations and these act as confining walls to "creativity". The forest idea is much like liberation, lost deep in a forest, you feel free from laws and signs and order. You do what seems right, not whats been agreed to be right. So your mind can wander and move to places we usually contain ourselves from, where paths are not set we need not walk paths but instead we can walk in the vastness of space. In the presense of pure nature the standards of humanity vanish in the lack of humankind's work and we can start anew to think of solutions for our problems, expression for our feelings, food for our hearts.
Thought about lit too, my lit teacher said before that lit is not a useful subject in "conventional" senses, our asian sense, but yet its use was far nobler and far greater (of course, in practical terms, noble = pointless). We have use for physics and chemistry and math because we had to pull to pull from post-war crisis to present-time success and that needed manufacturers, workers, chemists. We needed doctors to clean up the mess of disease and lawyers to clean up the mess of crime, to set new and relevant laws and enforce them. We don't have great need for that now, doctors and scientists are a dime a dozen and studying to be one doesn't mean you'd get the job. Our stigma remains because our parents lived through that as their parents in turn lived through war and hardship.
Then what of lit? Lit is the study of life, it is the honing of your ability to experience life, to understand it. Everyone can browse the book of life, everyone can read its cover and flip its pages, we all do it at their own pace. Literature and arts in general is the development of that inbuilt ability so that instead of merely browsing through life, we can read it beyond its words, to see the details in its entirety and the entirety in the details. Lit is opening your mind to the actions of others, the actions of ourselves, it is the ability to understand it according to how you have experienced it.
Lit is not a sure-shot subject that works wonders for everyone. Everybody learns something different in lit, the words and texts and quotes may generally be the same, but the real lesson is how to view life. It is not a subject, it is the development of your personality, of your beliefs and your perception. Pursued properly, it can fulfill the true purpose of "education", to teach one to learn.
Lit is good. Chem sucks. Maths sucks. Econs a bitch.
