I do wonder...

It had been a good time of working out with my friend. I had just gotten off the train at Jurong and was currently rushing for one of the last few buses to Seven Star Aquarium. After all, I would've liked to avoid paying for a cab home on midnight charge if I could.

There, as I waited in line, planning the loaches I would buy to feast upon my snaily denizens, I heard a plaintive voice call out to me in Mandarin. She had a distinctive Malaysian accent. I turned around to see a disheveled middle-aged woman, encumbered by a large bag of what I could only assume were her belongings. It would appear that she was fresh from some village or rural part of Malaysia on her way to work.

Two expressions dominated her worn features: Fear and Panic.

Fumbling over words and on the verge of tears, she asked if I could contact her friend to pick her up from the interchange. The bus from Johor Bahru to Jurong had been severely delayed and she had now missed the final train to her lodging. She had just discovered that all her local currency had been stolen as well.

Momentarily, xenophobia and a cautiousness borne from one too many con-artists kicked in. I contemplated ignoring her and continuing my way - only three people were left in line boarding the bus. After all, I really had much better and more important things to do (like buying those loaches) than to babysit someone who couldn't even take care of her own personal belongings. Who knew if she was even telling the truth?

Perhaps it was the Divine pricking my conscience, or perhaps it was something in her demeanor, but I relented. There was no harm in dialing a simple number. So, I did.

The nervous energy she radiated was strong. She uttered a quick "Thank you" and took my phone to banter with her to-be saviour. Her expression of relief quickly fell to one of despair and resignation.

He was not coming.

Her only alternative, now, was to remain at the interchange by her lonesome till 6AM.

That wouldn't do. It wasn't safe for a woman to be alone for hours past midnight. I offered to call her a cab to fetch her home. She immediately refused, apologising profusely and stating that she had imposed far too much on me already.

But it was not safe. A group of men, reeking of alchohol, had gathered in a distance to watch our exchange. Grabbing her bag, I marched her over to the station's taxi stand. She wrung her hands and confessed that this was her first time in Singapore. In the corner of my eye, I saw the group of men following us. Was that a glint of metal?

Change of plans.

"Why don't we go to JEM's taxi stand? There'll be more cabs there." I offered in faltering Mandarin.

We swiftly made our way to where a group of cabbies were dozing in their vehicles. There, a security guard was making his rounds. The group of men paused before they turned around and ambled away. I ushered her into the cab and paid the driver. With  the instructions to deliver her to her place safely given, he drove off.

I do wonder though...

...what could have happened if I had just ignored her and gotten onto the bus? Or, perhaps, an alternate reality where my mother, or my sister, or a woman dear to me had been in this situation.

What could have happened then?

Alas, who has time to consider such trivial matters? I have loaches to buy.

Creative Writing Tips: Usage of Sound

One of the most common questions I've been asked, when my students are faced with an essay, is how to write a descriptive piece. From personal experience and collective questioning, it seems that one of the trickiest bits in describing is the translation from what's in the mind to actual words on paper.

It's kind of like artwork but wordier. Like, how a picture speaks a thousand words but you actually write a thousand words.

...

... ...

...okay. I'll stop now. I'm sorry. Back to the topic at hand.

One of the thing's that I've found to be particularly helpful in writing is having a core topic in mind. So, let's say it's an essay question, a question I always ask myself and my student is, "What's the main point of this question?" If it's simply creative writing, it gets easier: What's the plot or running theme behind this?

Something else I've always found helpful is to always keep in mind that description is experiential. While there're many tools and skills available to enable us to describe, the ultimate goal is to help the reader envision what we have in mind - to encounter, dwell in and experience our created/fictional world; to have an immersive multi-sensory experience.

We've all heard the "Show, not tell" advice when it comes to writing. How do we go about with that? What does it even mean?

The suspense and horror genres tend to make full use of this advice. For example, to state would be something like, "The scary monsters in Jimmy's room sneaked out from under his bed and closet, and killed him."

That's making a statement with a few adjectives thrown in. To show would be to tell how exactly this whole thing happened. What was Jimmy's experience like? Was there rising terror? What were the details he paid attention to?

In this case, I would employ sensory details relating to sound. We rely primarily on our sight for details. When that it impaired or removed, the rest of our senses become so much keener. That bump that we hear sounds so much more sudden and louder.

Here would be an example of how I'd do it.

---------------

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The hands of the clock tick steadily, breaking the dead silence of his room. Jimmy's heart thumps in his chest, matching the unyielding ticking of the clock. How much time has passed since he has felt their eyes on him - those glowing orbs peeking out from his closet?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Jimmy pulls the covers further up and shrinks into them. What is that steady dripping behind the door?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

All he can see are those intensely glowing orbs. He sniffs silently, stifling his sobs. There is a permeating scent of iron and sulphur. It reminds him of how his grandfather used to sprinkle sulphur to ward off serpents on camping trips. However, he is sure sulphur will do no warding tonight.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

A scream for Mother threatens to rip its way out of his throat but he must stay silent. What the hell is that scratching under his bed?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

His bedroom door swings open and relief fills him momentarily before crashing terror descends.

Tick.

---------------

Note that this writing style follows closer to creative writing - where the rules of grammar are significantly more lenient - than what is allowed in academic essay writing.

Now, what are the little things I've worked in?

1. Note that throughout, I do not mention fear specifically till the end.
2. The pattern and rhythm of ticking is matched to the rhythm of his heart in the first paragraph. Note how it keeps a steady rhythm till the final line, where it ends abruptly. What do you think happened here?
3. The nouns, verbs and adjectives I use consistently apply to death, fear and the supernatural - commonly used tropes in conventional horror.
4. Rather than state it directly, I use metaphors to express an idea. It helps to get the reader to think and visualise the scene. For example, steady dripping and the smell of iron would be references to blood, glowing orbs to eyes, serpents and sulphur to the devil and hell, and Mother refers to the safety children seek when they are terrified in the night. The closet and bed, of course, refer to the common hiding places for monsters and night terrors.
5. The entire piece is a step-by-step process of Jimmy's fears and observations. Note how I write it mainly in present tense to express the story unfolding for the reader and Jimmy, neither part knowing what will happen specifically till it actually happens.

Hopefully this little tip helps you in writing descriptive pieces!

Do you wanna see a cute skink?

Ever seen a skink before? Nope? Come check it out in the No Limits Facebook page! Click on the image to get there!

Of Rantings and Kindness

I guess now's a time as good as any to bury those who dare oppose me and spoil me day with nastiness.

Goodness is about character - integrity, honesty, kindness, generosity, moral courage, and the like. More than anything else, it is about how we treat other people.

Dennis Prager

They say that kindness comes from the unlikeliest of places. This was perhaps made more clear to me today, on a day when I was sick and struggling around with getting through the day. To be honest, I was quite overwhelmed by the unusual kindness presented to me within a short evening, from three unlikely individuals on two separate occasions.

For those who know me, I'm a very independent person who's not likely to ask for help. Perhaps some part of it lies in me keeping mostly to myself but that's a story for another time.

For the first part, I was pushing an entire bag of plumerias on my trolley when some person bumped extremely hard into me and caused the plumerias to fall onto the ground, bruise and break. The (TOXIC!) sap also got splattered onto my arm and some nearly went into my eye. Definitely a huge no-no since the sap can cause severe skin irritations and blindness.

The person had the cheek to glare and me as if I was the one who'd bumped into me. And I would have smacked the person with a plumeria branch if he'd decided to pick on me further, considering my arm was hurting from the contact with the plumeria sap and a rash was coming out.

Thankfully, he stormed off.

Then this old man decided he ought to be "helpful" by shouting out instructions on how to transport my plumeria branches - by putting them into a container I'd be passing to Starbucks.

Needless to say that was not an option. Toxic sap and coffee don't go together. Thanks for the embarrassment too. Everyone was simply sitting there, on the bus, and staring at me or gesticulating and me and laughing about the whole thing.

I would've been overwhelmed by the whole situation if not for a kind soul who came by to help me hold my trolley and help me hold the bag open for me to toss in the mangled pieces.

My momma always told me to clean up after myself after all, even if the mess and pain and injury was caused by a**holes.

So this kind soul was not someone you'd consider popular guy material. Tall, lanky, geeky with the weirdest teeth. Definitely the kind you'd find picked on in school. But you know what? I'll probably remember this guy for his kindness far more than every other "good-looking" or "socially acceptable" person I come across. Or the loud old man.

Later that night, I was struggling with an electric kettle (bless the kind soul who donated it for the tuition centre and kids!), my trolley, my body bag and a huge tub of used coffee grounds.

And I'm on the bus.

And everyone was glaring at me as if I have offended their entire line of ancestors for bringing a full trolley onto the bus.

Then this woman snapped at me to go back to the Philippines.

First of all, I'm a Singaporean Chinese with Singaporean parents. Secondly, what's up with the xenophobia? An elitist mindset doesn't make you more of an honourable Singaporean citizen or human being.

Anyways, I ignored her but I was immensely annoyed. Then, this kind man (he looked like a Bangladeshi national) gave up his seat for me to sit and arrange my stuff. And another old man helped me to hold my trolley while I settled down.

So, an overall crappy day with people rearing their ugly sides while I was sick from all the ashes and haze but those moments of kindness definitely made it a whole lot better.

Missed the SG50 Garden Party Updates? Check out the highlights here!

Missed out of the SG50 Garden Party? Fret not! Here's a throwback to the highlights of the event! Click on the image below to get there!

What do you want to be?

I never did understand why it was a world only I could see though. The 1990s was a time when everyone was pretty big on rigorous studying, memorising and exams. It was all about numbers. A genuine career in art, writing and games in Singapore was unheard of. It was the thing left to hippies, hobbies and irresponsible people with no career-mindedness.

My art and writing were things done in secrecy. I had no role model and no one to talk to about it. Any mentions of it were brushed aside as childish and stupid. After all, what did a child know about dreams and aspirations?

Interested in reading more? Check it out by clicking on the image below!

Overly Dramatic Reading: A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

So I promised my student to take a video of myself reading her essay dramatically in a onesie.

"A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed" is the stuff of gloriously bad fanfiction.

Say Something (A Great Big World) Cover

Not Alone (Red) Cover

Want to learn about how to create healthy soil without blowing your budget? Click on the picture to find out more!

Ever wondered how you can maintain a beautiful garden without bursting your water bill? Click on the tasty picture to find out!

It's all shits and giggles till someone giggles and shits.

XiaoMao is back! For real!

I am very pleased and excited to reveal this latest development. In all honesty, I'm a little nervous about this - given my erratic schedule and all - but I'm determined to make this work!

To check out more of XiaoMao and follow XiaoMao, go to the Facebook Page!

Of Onesies, Headbanging Men and Confused Inverse Centaurs

Wanna see the video in higher definition? Click on the link!

Absolutely Important Tuition Assignment

BLK 666

Bodoh Lane, #06-66

Singapore 666666

Mr. Richard Ovawurticus Tutor

Language Tutor

Reputable Centre Pte Ltd

Education Cove Street 25

Singapore 123456

Dear Mr. Richard Ovawurticus Tutor,

Absolutely Important Tuition Assignment

My name is Chao Giam Siap. I am an extremely concerned parent. I have a very bright child. However, I am extremely worried for my offspring’s grades. My offspring is only able to attend classes in the wee hours of the morning or late into the night. Most of the people in your industry have flexible work hours I don’t see why none of you can make time for my offspring.

I have done extensive searching online and spoken with many of my high-flying colleagues and have come to the conclusion that you have many years of teaching experience, understand what you’re teaching about, have a positive track record and provide an excellent and professional service. However, it is SG50 and the Great Singapore Sale is commencing in a few months. It is to my understanding that many service providers offer greatly discounted rates to celebrate this. I would like to ask if you can give me a special discounted rate. Not too much of a discount. I have manners, mind you. Maybe just a 50% discount. I promise that it will be kept a secret between us. This arrangement will remain a secret and be taken with me to my grave. You can trust me.

In return for this, I will tell everyone about how great you are. It’s great exposure! I know that you’ll earn a lot less and have to starve a little because you’ve taken my offspring on and will be unable to teach others who are willing to pay normal rates. But think about it! Think of all the people who will want to enlist your services after I spread word around.

Education is the future of our youths and you, as an educator, are at the forefront of this. Your name will echo in the hallways of history as one of the change-makers of society! It is an honour. And because it’s an honour, I would like you to consider the honour of maybe, just maybe, doing it all for free. I will, of course, be kind and keep ensure you have a steady supply of tap water and oxygen in the room. You will have to make your own arrangements for food and transport.

I look forward to your quick and favourable reply,

Chao Giam Siap

Dear Heian, reporting defective plants from your garden

From:		Quan Bu Shi <everythingdie@hotmail.com>
To:		Heian Edenwood <heianedenwood@gmail.com>
Date:		23 April 2014 at 00:52
Subject:		Reporting Defective Plants from Your Garden

Rageface from drawception.com

Dear Heian,

I am a very displeased resident of your estate. I am writing to you this letter in response to the fiftieth plant that you have given me from the garden, that has died in my toilet. It is to my understanding that you said that this plant is remarkably hardy.

Attached is the following plant you gave to me 10 weeks ago.

I understand that you said that this plant grows incredibly well and is considered a weed. A nice fragrant weed with medicinal qualities but still essentially a weed. I also understand that you said that this plant is grown in full sun and splashed with water from the hose daily. Not much care apart from that.

However, I have taken to heed about you saying that it is a hardy plant. So, in order to beautify my toilet and hopefully eliminate the smell of urine and faeces like one of those minty air fresheners, I have put it in. The pot that the mint plant was in was really ugly as well, so I pulled the whole plant out and stuffed it into a black pot. You said you're an artist and designer. Don't you have any sense of aesthetics?

Attached is a photo of my toilet.

I know that you have said many times that you have no wish to see what my toilet looks like but I insist. I'm very sure that you can figure out a way to ensure that I have a steady supply of peppermint to perfume my toilet.

There is no sunlight that really enters the toilet so it's really dark. But the plant gets light whenever I go in for a shower, about two times a day, when I'm in town. But I also travel a lot so I can be away for days.

So the plant gets around 2 hours of fluorescent lighting a day, if I'm around. If I'm overseas, it gets no light for days till I get back. I also water it once every few days, assuming I remember.

I don't get why it can't grow. You said that it was low maintenance. A weed. A fucking weed, you said. This is what it looks like now. This is what I came home to. A pathetic pile of detritus. I have brought it out the the kitchen where it has some sunlight so you can see what a terrible state it's in.

Photo from runningwithspoons.com

This is the fiftieth plant you have given me that is defective. I am extremely displeased with your service. I demand a full refund. I know the mint plants were given to me for free but I think you ought to be obliged to help me set up a proper growing garden in my house since all your plants are defective.

I don't think you were being honest with me when you said they were low maintenance. This is why I pluck plants from your garden instead. At least I know it's my fault when they die. I hope you have a proper time of self-reflection on how shitty your service is as a volunteer in the garden and providing quality service to us residents.

In the meantime, I will go buy a mint plant from a reputable company like How Does Your Garden Grow.

You suck,

Quan Bu Shi

Totally necessary disclaimer because some people just don't get it: This is satire. According to Google, this means the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize a person's or people's lack of... thought or vices, in the context of topical issues. But do support local companies like 'How Does Your Garden Grow'! Plants sold by local companies who deal with locally grown plants (rather than imported) are much more likely to be acclimatized to Singapore's weather and last longer to bring you more joy!

Some Garden DIY

For those of you who know me, I do quite a fair bit of gardening. For those of you who know me better, I'm pretty huge on homesteading (or feeble attempts at it) and recycling junk into something useful for the garden.

All these little DIY projects have helped me saved some serious moolah. Let's take this nice little garden apron, for example:

This was originally from an old pair of jeans that no longer fit me. Mind you, it's a 7-year old pair of jeans so I don't think I actually put on weight.

Yeah. The jeans must have shrunk. That can be the only reason.

Anyways, I took a nice pair a scissors and snipped up the back portion of my jeans, and voila! A nice, durable garden apron. This apron even has 2 nice little pockets to store my tools, sans balls stabbing.

I tried it on and found that it was still slightly too tight so I added a few rubber bands as an elastic extension.

Nifty, eh?

My knack of storing junk for repurposing at a later time has met much chagrin from the mother, though. But can you blame me when even an exhausted Thirsty Hippo container can be turned into a wicking container?!

The best part is that the container was essentially free (it would've been thrown away anyway) and I now have a plant that I know I won't have to worry about if I want to go on an extended holiday.

So what else did I repurpose and upcycle?

One of the largest offenders of plastic waste entering the oceans, of course! Plastic bottles!

I was reading up on vertical gardens and how they can maximise air space and reduce water wastage when it came to watering the plants inside. I mean, considering global warming, the recent scorching weather, global water shortage and Singapore's lack of real natural resources, I figured this was worth looking into.

One can never be too sure when a zombie apocalypse will occur.

That one tower became two towers.

As you can see, a single tower looks pretty ugly by itself but it looks better when done as a group. The entire railing will probably be filled up with more vertical planters as time goes by.

Here's how it works. Water is fed into the green bottles (holes have been poked into the base) and it all flows down the bottles, ensuring water reaches all the plants. The end result? Everything gets watered with less than 500ml flowing down the drain per vertical setup. This is significantly less compared to if we were to water with a watering can. Imagine all the savings in the water bill!

I'll keep you all updated on the evolution of this plant wall. Keeping my fingers crossed on this being a success!

Have any other ideas? Post them below and we'll chat!

A Day in My Life as a Tutor

Working as a teacher can be an incredibly vibrant occupation, be it part-time or full-time. There are many moments filled with great joy and fulfillment; days where I truly find myself believing that this is truly my calling.

Then there are those days when I want to face palm myself so hard that it smashes right through the second-hand IKEA desk at the centre. I don't mean that I hate my job, mind you. It's just one of those moments where I'm not quite sure on whether I want to laugh or throttle my students.

Here's a look into one of those offending days:

So I was covering a well-prepared lesson on plotting and drafting an essay, and working in description. It was all going pretty well for the first part.

The topic was about an encounter with a giant cockroach while cycling in the park and the theme was comedy. An easy enough topic, right? Who hasn't seen someone else panic from flying cockroaches in the most hilarious ways possible?

So this happened. Well, I suppose that would be response from most of us if a human-sized cockroach were to tap our shoulder and proceed to chase us into the sea.

Then, came student B. Student A was focusing on my class, writing out a proper essay and trying out the tips on description that I'd taught earlier in class. As soon as student A turned his head away, student B nabbed his essay and turned it into quite something else entirely.

I'm not saying that I approve of the contents but I'll admit choking out a laugh of disbelief and/or shock when I read it.

Click on the image for a larger view

Seriously though, what's this kid on?

Tiny little disclaimer: I have received full permission from my students to post up their essays.

“’Cher, secondary school is so stressful. So much homework. Every little thing also fail. Come home from school, spend 10 minutes in the shower, eat a quick meal then I rush down for another class.”

That was the first time I’d heard her genuinely complain about studying in my class. I didn’t think much of it. I gently chided her and taught her some time management skills. That was the first of many complaints to come from her, each getting more serious.

 “’Cher, I’m very tired. Can let me sleep for a while? Can don’t give homework?”

I agreed to not giving her any assignments but I wasn’t able to let her take a nap lest I risk the tuition centre being questioned on its credibility and professionalism. I compromised on a 15 minute video break, chocolates and soda.

“’Cher, what’s the point of all this studying? What’s the point of anything?”

I paused the lesson and shared with the class about my personal history and my previous struggle with chronic depression. A solemn and contemplative silence had filled the classroom. However, she didn’t look convinced. I left it as that but kept it in mind.

“’Cher, I think no need to study anymore. Die also easier. No need to stress over my results and get nagged at by my parents every time.”

I pulled her aside, counselled her and discreetly informed the principal. The principal spoke to her and things calmed down for a few weeks. One day, all the classrooms on the ground floor were being used. My class was brought up to be conducted on the second floor. She eyed the glass window and sat at the back of the class.

Class went on as per normal. I gave my class their practice for the day and settled down to mark some essays. Just then, I heard someone fiddling with the lock of the window. Looking up, I saw her standing in front of the window. She looked at me and asked.

“’Cher, jump down from the second floor can die or not?”

I ended the class early that day, told her to go home and rest, and to approach me when she was ready to talk about what was bothering her. She took me up on the offer and she’s been learning to cope with whatever she’s facing ever since.

This is not the first time I’ve encountered this, and unfortunately, will probably not be the last time in a long while. I’ve had so many students approach me, break down and cry, talking about how stressful school life is and how their families are unsupportive. Rather than be offered comfort and encouragement, most of them have parents who either nag incessantly, punish them for not being the top few in class or simply tell them to “suck it up.”

These are not isolated cases.

Fortunately for this particular student, she was enrolled into a centre that was concerned with the welfare of the students rather than simply focusing on getting attendance and earning as much money as possible. I was given a measure of freedom and empowered to conduct lessons the way I wanted or needed to. This enabled me to develop a bond with my student as a mentor and friend, and for her to dare to open up. The only condition was to maintain complete transparency with the centre to ensure a professional relationship was kept.

However, this is not always a luxury my other students or I can afford. I’ve seen a parent quite literally call her son “a useless lazy piece of s**t” every week whenever I came by to give private tuition. When I called her out on it, she said that it was none of my business and that I was only paid to ensure that her son would score an A1 for English. She then proceeded to threaten to fire me if I interfered once more. Another one told me that he didn’t care if his child understood the English language and how it was to be used. All he cared was that I ensured his child memorised the answers to score an A. I’ve had yet another student that was banned from all forms of media or hanging out with friends in order to “mug” for English.

These are, perhaps, extreme and isolated cases. Nonetheless, instances of this have occurred in varying degrees, usually in the form of parents brushing off their child’s behaviour when I provide feedback, or threatening to pull their child from the class.

Have we become so obsessed with the pursuit of being Number One that we have forsaken the needs of our children to be nurtured; to be loved; to be valued?

Have we become so focused on winning that we have forgotten that there is so much more to life and living than just scoring that A?

Have we so lost faith in our children that we would rather force them to memorise a set of formulas, for the sake of getting through the exams, than to encourage them to dare; to dream; to explore; to learn and understand?

Perhaps it is time to re-examine how we have been approaching education and how we have been speaking and acting towards our children. Perhaps it is time to start recognising and acknowledge that it’s okay to make mistakes – which these are all part and parcel of the learning process. Perhaps it’s time to revisit and evaluate our values.

Now my question is this: What will you do?

Thar be Fishies and Crustaceans

Today's the first night off that I've had in a long while. My days are usually packed with work, projects, meetings and work. Taking full advantage of this rare opportunity, I arranged for a dinner date with a friend to catch up.

While waiting for him, I decided to pop by the aquarium at Plaza Singapura. Not for more fish, mind you. I just added four female Siamese fighting fish into my tank. Beauties, they are! Though I think the bunch of them have been fighting. Just among themselves. The rest of the inhabitants didn't seem too bothered by their new tank mates.

Perhaps they had a disagreement over who would have the last scoop of Ben&Jerry's ice cream from Free Scoop Day.

Anyways, I was just to browse around and kill some time. I was delighted to find quite tanks full of shrimps and crayfish (as you can see from my very nifty header image). I've never quite had success with caring for them but one can always admire with great envy from afar.

So... moving round the aquarium, I found this very cute box fish that was struggling to avoid the piercing gaze of my camera phone. No, like seriously. It was just hovering over there till I took out my camera phone and started shooting.

Then there was this tank full of clown loaches. One of my first loves. You have no idea on how happy I was or how long I squatted there, staring at the little colony.

Anyways, my dinner date arrived soon after this video shot and that marked the end of my fish viewing.