Monday 24 September 2007

Times are bad and a touching essay

Times are bad, Competition is so tough now!
(如果您能找到以下可爱的狗,请通知我一声, 我可以提早退休!!)

非常感人的一篇文章,流畅的文笔、表达新潮流的一种意境和趋向。同时,也将上一辈隐含的心情,伦理道德的失败,赤裸裸地表露出来。这是上一辈养育过程中的失败,没有将伦理道德根深蒂固地植入而只以现今社会把学业成绩作为衡量成功或失败的尺度,还是下一辈自我教育的失败?非常赞叹一位15岁的女孩,写出非常具有反省和深奥的文章。(100%推荐:不可不看)

Subject: FW: 15 year-old girl essay ( Commonwealth Essay Competition Winner)

Hi,

It's worthwhile taking 5 mins to read this essay.

Singapore girl wins Commonwealth essay prize!
A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean, competing against 16- to 18-year-olds, has won the top prize in a writing contest that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries.

In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls' School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.

Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflict in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.

Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-versus-West struggles and generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,' said Amanda, who likes drama, history and literature and wants to become a lawyer and a politician.

Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a powerfully moving and ironical critique of modern restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences'. The writing is fluent and assured, with excellent use of dialogue.

Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in 2000, said Britain's Royal Commonwealth Society, which has been organising the competition
since 1883. Singaporeans also came in second in the 14- to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the under-12s. Other winners included students from Australia, Canada and South Africa.

==================================================================

What the Modern Woman Wants
By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.'

Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance' 'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent.

The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval. 'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.

'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat.
The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. 'I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of problems.'

The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.

The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence. 'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The
old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking', Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.' Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.

'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'

The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall.

Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.

'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.

Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook.

Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.

What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.

The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence. she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes.

She bowed once more.
The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.

Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.

Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man.

She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.

She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood. She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.

Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that. The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes.

Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness. The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth everything she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions.

The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there -down.

The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped everyday of her life.

Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar.

The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.

Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness.

They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not as fast as she had done before.

'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay seven million for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road. Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves...'

The old woman nodded knowingly. Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out-but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, the apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang-it's a Christian home, a very nice one.'

The old woman did not raise an eyebrow. 'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be happier there.'

'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.
This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.

'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?' What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.

'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.' Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.

'I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love, Power and now, Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down...

Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!'

Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her... And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.

Thursday 20 September 2007

背景歌曲的歌词














不能说的秘密 (周杰伦)

冷咖啡离开了杯垫
我忍住的情绪在很后面

拼命想挽回的从前
在我脸上依旧清晰可见

最美的不是下雨天
是曾与你躲过雨的屋檐
回忆的画面
在荡着秋千梦开始不甜

你说把爱渐渐 放下会走更远
又何必去改变已错过的时间
你用你的指尖 阻止我说再见
想象你在身边 在完全失去之前

你说把爱渐渐 放下会走更远
或许命运的签只让我们遇见
只让我们相恋 这一季的秋天
飘落后才发现这幸福的碎片
要我怎么捡

冷咖啡离开了杯垫
我忍住的情绪在很后面

拼命想挽回的从前
在我脸上依旧清晰可见

最美的不是下雨天
是曾与你躲过雨的屋檐 Woo~
回忆的画面
在荡着秋千梦开始不甜

你说把爱渐渐 放下会走更远
又何必去改变已错过的时间
你用你的指尖 阻止我说再见
想象你在身边 在完全失去之前

你说把爱渐渐 放下会走更远
或许命运的签只让我们会遇见
只让我们相恋 这一季的秋天
飘落后才发现这幸福的碎片
要我怎么捡


















听说爱情回来过 (蔡依林)

(白)爱是一种需要一种缺乏
所以我们都喜欢情歌
不管爱在进行中
还是仍未萌芽
不管你爱他比较多
还是他爱你比较多
爱或被爱
其实都是一种喜悦

在朋友那儿听说
知心的你曾回来过
想请他替我向你问候
只为了怕见了面说不出口
你对以往的感触还多不多
曾让我心碎的你
我依然深爱着
在朋友那儿听说
知心的你曾找过我
我要他帮我对你隐瞒
只是怕见了面会更难过
我对以往的感触还那么多
曾给我幸福的你
我依然深深爱着
有一种想见不敢见的伤痛
有一种爱还埋藏在我心中
我只能把你放在我的心中
这一种想见不能见的伤痛
让我对你的思念越来越浓
我却只能把你
把你放在我心中

在朋友那儿听说
知心的你曾找过我
我要他帮我对你隐瞒
只是怕见了面会更难过
我对以往的感触还那么多
曾给我幸福的你
我依然深深爱着
有一种想见不敢见的伤痛
有一种爱还埋藏在我心中
我只能把你放在我的心中
这一种想见不能见的伤痛
让我对你的思念越来越浓
我却只能把你
把你放在我心中
对你的声音你的影你的手
我发誓说我没有忘记过
而关于你选择了现在的他
我只能说我有些难过
我也真心真意的等过




It Might Be You!!

Time, I’ve been passing time watching trains go byAll of my lifeLying on the sand watching seabirds flyWishing there could beSomeone waiting home for meSomething’s telling me it might be you all of my lifeLooking back as lovers go walking past all of my lifeWondering how they met and what makes it lastIf I found the place would I recognize the faceSomething’s telling me it might be youIt’s telling me it might be youSo many quiet walks to takeSo many dreams to wakeAnd there’s so much love to makeI think we’re gonna need some timeMaybe all we need is timeAnd it’s telling me it might be youAll of my lifeI’ve been saving love songs and lullabiesAnd there’s so much moreNo one’s ever heard beforeSomething’s telling me it might be youYeah, it’s telling me it must be youAnd I’m feeling it’ll just be you all of my lifeI’ve been waiting forAll of my lifeMaybe it’s you, maybe it’s youI’ve been waiting for all of my lifeMaybe it’s you, maybe it’s youI’ve been waiting for all of my lifeIt’s you, it’s you I’ve been waiting for all of my life

Wednesday 19 September 2007

醉童年 (My Lovely Daughter)

凝视



您蹦蹦跳跳的样子

最爱把身躯挤进前胸


享受那相贴温暖的片刻


您以天真魅力的笑容,

递上您涂鸦的小纸条,

再献上您那小小的口吻,

最美丽、醉童年!





Friday 14 September 2007

千变万化的月饼VS原滋原味的豆沙蛋黄月饼


随着时代变化和高利润的引诱,现今不只生产月饼的品牌总多,各自纷纷从包装和月饼的“内涵”寻出位,从外表和“内涵”观看,的确是有所进展。但,价格方面,也随着其“高贵”地位而迅速递增。

原始朴素味道的豆沙蛋黄月饼、加上一杯好茶、享着团圆的气氛,这些软环境,是否也能够包装在现代的月饼内呢?

星巴克咖啡屋的成功主要是能把生活的品味溶化其中,希望现今的月饼厂商能把中秋的重要意义能够给予发扬光大,月团圆,人团圆。

在月光的影下,哼着苏东坡所哼过的曲子:“但愿人长久,千里共婵娟”。

预祝:

中秋节快乐!

Thursday 13 September 2007

曾经年少的创作










这是第一次所写的歌,也是唯一能记得的词曲。

之后,在马大佛学会领袖训练营也发表过的另一作品--乞求,但还是忘了。


虽然对乐理和乐器的认识不多,在瞎撞之下,完成这是歌。

这是高中时的作品,真正发表的时候,是在马大华文协会所主办的创作歌曲比赛中。

其他,在隔别一年参赛的两个作品已全忘记。



错误:

词曲:作者







是午夜关不掉的眼帘,

柏油路上我不愿回顾,

曾经遗下的步迹,

曾经换来的失眠,

默默地走过、失过

淡淡的感觉,

孤独与寂寞,

是我心底错误!

淡淡的感觉

孤独与寂寞,

是我心底错误!!










记忆犹新的一首老歌

思念

作曲、作词、编曲:一位老友

因为是朋友、祝福的语言不像花;
只是期盼您的掌心握的不会是孤独寂寞。
纵然它听来像古老的传说;
只愿您能记取,这不是文字和音符,
是远方友人的思念!



老友,还好吧?
这是我们中学时代,你为一位越洋到海外的朋友所写的歌。
转眼间,离母校已接近二十五周年,你我也可以说是已几乎无有联系。
但这首歌却能穿过时空,串起往日的记忆!

祝福你,好友!

Wednesday 12 September 2007