I am@youth.sg

What makes me a normal Singaporean teenager?

• I love music. Now which teenager in the world doesn’t love music?
• I think that failure is not an option. With much thanks to our education system.
• I enjoy 5 days of school plus 2 days of weekend parties.
• I hate writing in point form. Yes, I talk in paradoxes.
• I think the world revolves around me. Yes, I talk in paradoxes.
• I love poetry. Whitman and Poe are some of my favourites.Pretty common poets but don’t all of us love them?
• I love my mommy, daddy and my two siblings.
• I love busting loose. R.I.P James Brown.
• I wear old clothes and I hardly go shopping just like the rest of the teenage population.
• I hate crowds. Teens hate them too. They can’t make out with crowds around.
• I’m rebellious. Isn’t every 17 supposed to be? Geez.
• I hate television. It tells lies to your vision. But I still watch MTV like any other teenager.
• I hope they pimp my ride. Wait, I’m too poor to buy my own ride. Xzibit must not pimp my dad’s ride. IT’S NOT FAIR. Oh, my dad doesn’t own a car.
• I lock myself in my room every night to DO my homework INFRONT of my computer
• I have the newest handphone in town. Oh wait, that makes me different.
• I rant about how much I dislike living in Singapore but I still call this place home when I come back from other countries.
• I live in a HDB flat. It’s ok since ALL of us feel like pigeons.

There you go. I’ve said it all. That is what makes me a normal teen in Singapore. And that’s the truth, Ruth.

http://www.youth.sg/blog/iam

Week 8

Notes

Story is action
Action is any kind of activity.
Talking about feelings is not as powerful as actions.

Actions simply manifest behavior.
Human emotions are understood by watching the actions and reactions of the characters.

Dynamic Action has the potential to enrich the experience of the audience by building an emotional relationship between the characters and the audience.

Reflection 5

I’ll start with my reflection since Les Miston is still stuck fresh in my memory. Something about the last scene that deeply disturbs me. The expression on Bernadette’s face. Something about that and the last narration of pity in the background. It didn’t fit and it shocked me.

The movie made me feel like I was stepping into the memory of the narrator. I felt connected with the scenes of the boys playing. Killing one another. It brought me back to a book I read and studied for Literature in secondary school. It was Susan Hill’s ‘King Of The Castle’. The story struck me and continues to scare me because it displays the abillity in children to kill. Reading that book and watching this movie really challenges me to ask…

” Are we born to kill? Are we born to hate? Are children really pure and innocent as we deem them to be?”

The ending of Les Miston made me realize that children, though they might not know it, sometimes have an inate understanding of things around them. The narrator said that he felt a sense of pity for Bernadette. Why? Love left Bernadette hurt and sucked every inch of life out of her. She never rode her bike. She wore black though she never did in the past. I was a child once, but how come I feel alot wiser now? Wisdom is a seed planted in all men. With the correct conditions, it will blossom.

I’ve also come to reflect upon my own life. I scare myself because there are somethings in my life that I hate with a passion. As more of these thoughts pour into my mind, I start to wonder whether we have must have a reason to hate. The boys in Les Miston said that they hate because they were unable to love. But we don’t love because we are unable to hate. Ah… Where am I going with all of this?

It’s amazing how these two strong feelings are so closely connected even though they are so different. It is no wonder these feelings usually define life because it is only through these feelings that one does really feel alive. As I am like the boys in Les Miston, my understanding of love is only so much. Thus my knowledge of life too, little. Right now, all I feel for myself is pity. Because just like everyone else, we are puppets of love and hate…And I am lost and only involve myself in games of make believe like the boys in Les Miston.

-

Oh i found this on youtube. Enjoy!

Reflection 4

I was a class chairman for 4 years. After reading Ryan’s own reflection about his life and watching Election, I started to realize that the election for class chairman was something of a gauge of popularity for me. It wasn’t about power. It wasn’t about making decisions. To me, yes, it was about being popular. It didn’t matter to me that my classmates took me for the black sheep. Of course sometimes I felt stupid because I’m the only one taking the blame. But there was something about being the class chairman that teachers always seem to favour. They let you off the hook more than you would expect. I felt important when they gave me things to do. I felt even more important when everyone handed me their phones during the spotchecks… And the teachers would ask me who I’d like to rat on. It sure brought back memories when Tracy tore down the posters and never got caught. There were times when I did something really bad in school and got away with it. Something to do with the ‘There’s a reason why he’s still here after 4 years’ aura I guess.

About the film, I would love to watch it again. It’s disturbingly funny. It kind of reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite. Living in the suburbs can actually be quite sad. I would never know how it feels like since most of us locals live in pigeon holes. There is something about the seemingly perfect community that is really dark. Afterall, being perfect is just an idea. It can never be attained. I guess that is what makes it really scary. If everyone was perfect, would things still go wrong? To me, suburbia is close to a perfect society. I guess this movie breaks off this little stereotype. That there can still be trouble in little suburbia.

Reflection for Week 3

I never knew Aristotle was interesting. This lesson taught me about the structure of storytelling. My group did a short presentation about the differences between a complex and a simple plot. It wasn’t that detailed but we managed to learn a little more with Ryan’s additional information. In an industry like ours, knowing to tell a proper story is crucial in scriptwriting. Understanding Aristotle’s teachings is important.

We have to go out and people watch too. This is interesting. I people watch… Most of the male population would agree with me too. Hell… This is going to be fun.

Notes:

Tragedy = imitation of an action that is serious, complete, a certain magnitude

Six Parts = Plot, Character, Diction, Thought, Spectacle, Melody

Plot: arrangement of incidents

Character: used to enhance plot

Thought: able to convey director’s thoughts to audience

Diction: expression of the meaning of words

Melody: contributes to the unity of plot

Spectacle: visual elements

‘Cause and Effect’ Chain= incentive moment – climax – resolution

Good plot is the unity of action, structure is self contained and has no outside intervention. Therefore a plot is the most important feature of tragedy.

Episodic Plot: starts near the beginning
succeeds one another without necessity
stretches plot
serves to invoke fear or pity

Characters should serve the plot. To Aristotle, the protagonist must be morally fine but must have a flaw. The lack of knowledge in him is known as HARMARTIA.

However, when he finally wakes up. It is known as the moment of recognition, ANAGNORISIS.

Vocab:

Katharsis: emotional release
Mimesis: imitation of real world through art and literature
Anagnorisis: moment of recognition
Perepeteia: things in plot which changes from good to bad
Harmartia: doesn’t have self knowledge

The Ink

Notes

Lesson one requires us to understand the basic fundamentals of writing.

There are three things that we must know about writing stories:

1) The grammar used in the story must be in present tense. This makes sure the story is TOLD instead of being SHOWN.

2) The story should be written in 3rd person.

3) The story should be written in an active voice instead of a passive one. Active voice basically means that stronger verbs and immediate actions from the character is used. This is to make the sure the reader doesn’t get bored.

If we were to face a writers block, it is best to just knock the wall down and carry on writing whatever comes to mind. If a problem arises, solve it first. Never leave it hanging.

Reflection

I am never one to write about my life so openly but since this is for school work, I shall… well… Pen my thoughts down.

This class served as a selfish enlightenment more than a class about writing better stories. I, and I’m sure more than half of teenage Singaporeans, have been led to believe that we have acquired crucial storytelling techniques through the countless English compositions that we have been forced to write in our secondary and primary schools. ories. Call me selfish but I’m very happy to know that in time to come, I’ll be writing stories that hopefully will be good enough to bring me some glory. Or just girls will do.

Mister Ryan is a very interesting person. The way he teaches reminds me of Christian cellgroups that I used to attend a long time ago. Maybe it’s the air of superiority with a tinge of certain humility that makes me, and I’m sure all of us, very comfortable. I’m not saying that all Christian cellgroups make you comfortable though.

The name game was interesting. It woke my brain up at 10 in the morning. When we got down to writing, I was picked as an example. The whole class had to write about me. It was interesting. I had to alienate myself for awhile to write something about me. It was a strange feeling. I guess I’ve come to realize that names are just names in that small little exercise. They hold no meaning to who you are or what you are. After all, there are a million Dominics in the world.

Anyway, this is what I wrote. I think it’s a little confusing because I’m not exactly a fabulous writer and I’m a scatterbrain.

Dominic puts on his hula girl outfit and enters the temple. His nose is filled with the scent of incense as he slowly makes his way into the awaiting prayer room. Older people pace about urgently in the temple with seemingly no sense of direction. They must truly be troubled that even in a place of straightforward religious following, no one has no idea what to do. Dominic however, knows his route. He enters the prayer hall and smirks. He came here for one thing. A mate. The prayer hall, as he remembers as old, have miraculously changed into some kind of big tacky looking disco. Dominic adjusts his coconut breasts and sways towards the dance floor, hoping to catch someone’s attention. He is not alone. The hall is filled with growing males in hula girl outfits swaying together like a big tub of jelly. The girls cheer and eye their future mates with so much intensity that they could turn Medusa to milk. Dominic moves his hips the best he can with hopes that the girl he wants calls out to him. His body is sweaty and the coconuts on his chest constantly scrapes the skin. The pain pays off. Dominic hears his name and walks out of the prayer room. His eyes meet with the one who called him. Together hand in hand, they walk past the hallways and into the temple grounds… Where the parents wait in much anxiety.

I guess i’m finished with my reflection. Till next time then.

Peace.