Hi everyone, it's been quite siong these few weeks given the intense preparation for the exams. For those whose exams have ended, enjoy! For those who still have papers to go...give your last burst! It's gonna be over.
I've been thinking on the bus this morning on my way to school for my last paper: Why are we studying so hard?For those who are still in school now, what are we studying for? For those who are not studying/working, what do u think you have studied for? Is it for a cushy middle-class job in the future? A comfortable life? Making lots of $$$?
I remembered the scenario of the revision week in school: students camping in tutorial rooms to mug, rubbish bins with overflowing trash of food and drink cans and possibly any type of food you can think of (consumed in the midst of mugging) and the general feeling of anxiety and fear. It seems as though we have become machines churning out stuff and everyone seems to aim for that "A" grade. Are grades a true assessment of who we are? Why the obsession with doing well? Competition has its benefits but doing well at all costs is no good.
Sometimes I think this drive to do well, to be competitive etc is so compulsive and excessive that we need to take a step back to reflect. Personally I enjoy learning in the earlier part of the semester, with lectures and tutorials, having interesting discussions with tutors and lecturers and really gaining new perspectives about many issues and events that I never had before. But I dread the stressful periods of exams where so much of what you had learned is cramped, judged and determined by a measly 2hr paper...
Yup here are some of my post-exam thoughts...maybe you all could share yours too?
Dean
Saturday, 28 April 2007
Monday, 16 April 2007
an sms from a friend
something interesting i'd like to share with you all
when we sigh about our problems,
they grow double;
but when we laugh about them and lift them up to God,
they become BUBBLES!!
yeah!! :)
IHL,
juls
when we sigh about our problems,
they grow double;
but when we laugh about them and lift them up to God,
they become BUBBLES!!
yeah!! :)
IHL,
juls
Monday, 9 April 2007
a beautiful life story of love, hope and strength
Excerpts from a film written based on the autobiography of a woman of faith and much strength...
I painstakingly typed the subtitles out as i watched... pause, type, play... pause,type, play... pause, type, play...
Love does not die although bodies may perish from all sorts of hurt. Love disappears only when you do not understand what it means.
I was born on July 9, 1943 on Sago Lane. I was a cute and happy baby. But had my parents known what was in store for me, they would probably have given me away for adoption. Dad lost a thriving restaurant business. I had to learn how to cook, wash and clean by the time I was 10. My parents were happy and proud of me but their happiness and pride did not last long. There was little knowledge as to what really happened to cause my deafness.
At 14, I went deaf. Why, I don’t know. One night, blood and pus trickled down my cheek. Both my mother and father didn’t think much of it. My mother thought it was only a small boil which had burst open. The next morning, my hearing went. Mom was shocked. She shouted into my ears, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
How much pain and suffering can a person take? I wrestled with that question many times. I’ve lost my hearing and now, I’m about to lose my sight as well. It all started with the right eye. I saw changing colours and black dots and I kept blinking. My parents did not take me immediately to the hospital for treatment, they just gave me eye drops and Chinese herbs. They only sought help when I was no longer able to see with my right eye and when my left one started to give me trouble. I remember long stays in the hospital and daily vision tests, painful injections and bandages on my eyes. My hands were tied at night because they did not want me to touch my bandages.
Every morning when the doctors came to check on me, I’d ask them if I would ever see again. One patted my hand without replying my question. I kept praying, “Oh, I do not want to be blind and deaf. I do not deserve this eternal punishment.” I became blind. I felt as if I was living in a very silent and dark prison. There were days when I didn’t want to live. But there were good days when I would tell myself that it did not matter as long as I was alive and well guarded by heaven’s love. I doubt if most people can understand what it’s like to be deaf and blind. It’s as if someone had built a wall between me and the living, a wall which nobody can tear or break down. I could not discern beautiful sights or sounds. But, I never saw or heard anything ugly either. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes people appear and just change the course of your life. Mrs. Elizabeth Choy came into my life and it suddenly veered into the most wondrous of dimensions.
It was probably baffling to a lot of people how someone like me who is both blind and deaf can learn a totally new and different tongue. I guess it’s true what they say, “If there’s a will, there’s a way.” Determination can conquer the most difficult and discouraging things in the world.
I was blessed and lucky enough to have travelled the world. It was in Bombay that I encountered my first sorrowful experience. One night, God wanted me to know his world. My travelling companion Peggy and I were standing on the balcony of the hotel when she described what she saw to me. On the dirty pavements were hordes of homeless families sleeping. Peggy said they looked hungry and lifeless. It struck me then that while I was disabled, I had everything. These people were just struggling so that they could survive. I quietly made a vow that one day, I would donate something to these poor people of India.
I had an education. I did things I never thought I could do, I even dated.
We all have dreams. I’m no different. I dreamed of being a Chinese opera singer at age 3 but Fate robbed me of this dream. Are there dreams that do not die? God alone knows, and I trust Him.
Isn't her faith and strength just so contagious?
IHL
juls
I painstakingly typed the subtitles out as i watched... pause, type, play... pause,type, play... pause, type, play...
Love does not die although bodies may perish from all sorts of hurt. Love disappears only when you do not understand what it means.
I was born on July 9, 1943 on Sago Lane. I was a cute and happy baby. But had my parents known what was in store for me, they would probably have given me away for adoption. Dad lost a thriving restaurant business. I had to learn how to cook, wash and clean by the time I was 10. My parents were happy and proud of me but their happiness and pride did not last long. There was little knowledge as to what really happened to cause my deafness.
At 14, I went deaf. Why, I don’t know. One night, blood and pus trickled down my cheek. Both my mother and father didn’t think much of it. My mother thought it was only a small boil which had burst open. The next morning, my hearing went. Mom was shocked. She shouted into my ears, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
How much pain and suffering can a person take? I wrestled with that question many times. I’ve lost my hearing and now, I’m about to lose my sight as well. It all started with the right eye. I saw changing colours and black dots and I kept blinking. My parents did not take me immediately to the hospital for treatment, they just gave me eye drops and Chinese herbs. They only sought help when I was no longer able to see with my right eye and when my left one started to give me trouble. I remember long stays in the hospital and daily vision tests, painful injections and bandages on my eyes. My hands were tied at night because they did not want me to touch my bandages.
Every morning when the doctors came to check on me, I’d ask them if I would ever see again. One patted my hand without replying my question. I kept praying, “Oh, I do not want to be blind and deaf. I do not deserve this eternal punishment.” I became blind. I felt as if I was living in a very silent and dark prison. There were days when I didn’t want to live. But there were good days when I would tell myself that it did not matter as long as I was alive and well guarded by heaven’s love. I doubt if most people can understand what it’s like to be deaf and blind. It’s as if someone had built a wall between me and the living, a wall which nobody can tear or break down. I could not discern beautiful sights or sounds. But, I never saw or heard anything ugly either. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes people appear and just change the course of your life. Mrs. Elizabeth Choy came into my life and it suddenly veered into the most wondrous of dimensions.
It was probably baffling to a lot of people how someone like me who is both blind and deaf can learn a totally new and different tongue. I guess it’s true what they say, “If there’s a will, there’s a way.” Determination can conquer the most difficult and discouraging things in the world.
I was blessed and lucky enough to have travelled the world. It was in Bombay that I encountered my first sorrowful experience. One night, God wanted me to know his world. My travelling companion Peggy and I were standing on the balcony of the hotel when she described what she saw to me. On the dirty pavements were hordes of homeless families sleeping. Peggy said they looked hungry and lifeless. It struck me then that while I was disabled, I had everything. These people were just struggling so that they could survive. I quietly made a vow that one day, I would donate something to these poor people of India.
I had an education. I did things I never thought I could do, I even dated.
We all have dreams. I’m no different. I dreamed of being a Chinese opera singer at age 3 but Fate robbed me of this dream. Are there dreams that do not die? God alone knows, and I trust Him.
Isn't her faith and strength just so contagious?
IHL
juls
Friday, 6 April 2007
Something sociological to ponder about
Hi, everyone. I'm taking a sociology module called race and ethnic relations. This module challenged many conventional ideas I had about race and ethnicity, how society is structured according to the state's treatment of race/ethnicity as well as how race can be represented or misrepresented in the media, .e.g. billboards, magazines.
I have a question to pose to everyone, since most, if not all of us claim to be of the Chinese ethnic group:
How 'Chinese' do you think you are? What are some 'markers' of Chinese-ness for you?
Think about it.
Dean
I have a question to pose to everyone, since most, if not all of us claim to be of the Chinese ethnic group:
How 'Chinese' do you think you are? What are some 'markers' of Chinese-ness for you?
Think about it.
Dean
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