what would jesus do?

Bowling

2005-06-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

Geez.

Now that wasn't a very good word to use for the opening line of a weblog entry, but it's what struck me - I haven't updated in nearly a month. Astounding.

Anyhow, I've been keeping busy this hols, been to the UK, caught a throat infection, did holiday homework, reflected and evaluated my life, gone out for movies and more recently, a secondary school class reunion. That about sums up my holiday. Oh well. What seemed like it'd never end when it started is about to turn its tails on us and storm away, leaving us in the dust, wondering.

It's been another one of those days I've been plagued by the undying spirit of nostalgia. In any case, it was probably evoked by the class reunion I attended yesterday. But it wasn't the casual chats over a barbecued dinner by the poolside that so stirred the emotion within me, but rather,

a bowling game.

It was like any other bowling alley, if you ignore the touch of elegiac reminiscence, given that the last time I took to the lanes was a lengthy six months ago, at the last class chalet, at the very alley. That aside, everything was per normal. Just like any other bowling alley.

I haven't been bowling in eons. I didn't bowl yesterday, but rather, I sat back and observed my ex-classmates and members of the public enjoying the beautiful game I used to participate so actively in, even competing at the national level, entering various competitions, not winning much, really, but competing for the sake of improving myself, measuring myself up against the national standard, not for glory's sake.

And it was then that it hit me. As I watched the bowling balls ease down the lane, skidding their ways to the gutters and pockets of the lane, those memories came flooding back so abruptly I had to look away, for tears threatened to sting my eyes and mar my view. I remember the scene at my last training session with my secondary school's bowling team last november. It was an equally emotional one for me, just like it was yesterday. Like history repeating itself, I felt myself drawn into the spiral of memories - memories so vivid they hurt.

I miss bowling. I never really thought I'd say this, bowling of all things in my secondary school, but amidst the constant gripes about the coaches and teachers-in-charge of bowling and their irascible outbursts, I loved bowling with all my heart. Not just the friends and teammates I had in bowling, but everything else about bowling. The squeak of bowling shoes' soles against the polished approach to the lanes. The air-conditioning vent which cools our clammy palms. The automated score-machine. The unmistakable sound of pins being replaced. The slight nervous twitches as one goes to take one's turn. The gentle fitting of one's fingers into the ball holes, the

tightening of the grip, the preparation for a shot at a strike.

Then, a second or two later, the sound of a ball thudding against the oiled lane, skidding and careening its way to the pins. And the pins falling, the sound of slaughter. It's a strike, they say. Oh, a spare. What do you have, a 7-10 split? A sleeper? Aw, tough luck. The hand-slapping by way of encouragement and motivation, reminding one to keep the focus.

Bowling lingo. Bowling terms. Bowling etiquette. Try as the ordinary non-bowler might with leisure games, he or she will never understand the language of bowlers. Sure, you can research bowling terms and lingo, but you have to play the game - and cry for the game - to truly understand the heartache involved in a 7-10 split, or the challenge in executing a throw at the sleeper. It's so much more than just taking a weighty ball and lobbing it down the lane carelessly, hoping for a decent score, hoping that pins will fall by sheer brute force. It's about skill, passion... and love for the game.

I remember my days with the Chung Cheng High Main bowling team. We were a decent team, not the best in terms of skill, but definitely in terms of support and camaraderie. I played in my first, and what may be my last (for now) national competition with them, and I have to say I truly enjoyed myself and benefited from the experience. With so many top bowlers around, it forced to me to move up a gear, to expect more from myself. I remember the time we bowled against the Singapore Sports School. Sure we were intimidated, to say the least, but I'll remember how our coach (Peter, I think) looked us in the eye and told us not to be afraid, for we could beat them any day. Bowling isn't a game of certainty. It's unpredictable. Lane oiling patterns change, finger alignments change, nothing's ever the same with every throw. Nothing.

And that's why I still love bowling. The unpredictability of every throw. The anticipation of watching a bowling ball travel down the lanes, hoping for that elusive strike. The joy - and pain, of perfecting a technique through months, even years of patient training. The rewards that come with it. Practice makes perfect with bowling. There are no 'made' bowlers. No bowling prodigies. Some may be more inclined towards it, but everyone's on par when they train. It depends on how hard you train, and how committed you are to the sport.

I still keep in touch with my bowling teammates. One's gone to Shanghai to accompany her parents, the others've moved on with their school lives. We still talk, sometimes, but about matters un-related to bowling, though I do admit I still press them for news with regard to CCH bowling, for updates on the team. I miss them.

Will I return to bowling, having said all that in praise of the game? Well, the answer for now is no. For now, the immediate future. I definitely don't rule out a return to the lanes as a 'serious' bowler, meaning I take the game seriously, not just bowling for fun. In fact, Mrs Lim, the TJC principal, asked me whether I'd like to join bowling at the beginning of this year, just after we'd chosen our PDPs. I declined, stating that I thought my interests lay somewhere else now. Well, it's not that the passion for bowling's died out, it's just that time constraints don't permit me to bowl as much as I'd like - for that matter, not for six months and counting - and that it's costly for me to travel to and fro from bowling centres so frequently. I don't mind the cost, but it takes its toll on my family life and other commitments, and for now, I feel I just can't commit to bowling, as much as I love bowling as a sport. Do I harbour intentions and hopes of eventually making it big as a pro in the sport one day? Sure I do. But it's dawned on me that it isn't really up to me to choose my path. It's in the Father's hands. Whether or not I become a professional bowler is really up to Him. But for now, bowling will have to take a backseat while I concentrate on my other pursuits.

That's why being at the lanes yesterday was moving, for me. It reminded me of so much, and taught me so much. As I ran my fingers over a dull eight-pound bowling ball on the racks, that familiar longing in my eyes, a friend asked, "You miss bowling, don't you?". I thought for a moment, then my eyes wandered to the many images of camaraderie and bonds being built around me, and the exhilaration and frustration of the bowlers, and I knew enough to nod. I had a year of 'serious' bowling. I think I'll be up for more, when the time comes. But for now, I'll just sit back and enjoy the game.

The beautiful game. Bowling.

investiture

2005-05-27T08:57:00.000-07:00

I gave up on the previous post, not because its content was lacking - but rather, it was unfeeling. It didn't accurately portray the image I wanted it to. In any case, however, I'm just resigned to the fact that I will never be able to re-enact the scenes of Wednesday, the day when all our tomorrows began.

What do I do when words aren't enough?

TASC, you know me. Secretaries and words and such. But as I type this, I'm at a loss for words. My previous post, a draft, didn't convey enough emotion. I was but merely going through the formalities of writing. Let me cut myself loose with this post. I'll let the tears fall.

Poignant moments of the TASC investiture - 1. The video. Many of us were close to tears backstage. Not because the video was exemplary, with all due respect to Lester - he did a great job with the resources he had, but because it captured the little moments which just scuttled by in the midst of the frenzy of the past months. We're nearly always really busy with something, so the video was nice. Little moments. I'll learn to treasure and cherish them even more.

2. The pledge. 'Our reward is in what we accomplish'.

There you have it. The TASC investiture was sharp, short and sweet. The 29th SC investiture, in comparison, drew a stark contrast.

Poignant moments of the 29th investiture - about the whole investiture, really. From Royston's change in tone when he made his farewell speech to the tears in some of their eyes - even the most 'hardened' ones, you might say - it was all so moving. And though I'd promised myself I wouldn't cry, I teared. My eyes watered.

Reflecting on them, I'm thinking of one year from now. Whether we'll be standing on that stage with the same tears in our eyes. Whether we'll cry when we whisper words of wisdom and advice to our juniors during the badge-pinning ceremony. Whether we'll have our farewell performance. Whether we'll be crying and hugging each other like there's no tomorrow. Whether the 2nd TASC will actually feel sad for us. Whether, whether...

Whether it'll all be worth it.

I know it will. I've seen the 28th SC persist through all the adversity they've faced. If they can take it, why can't we? I've faith in the TASC to do the same. United we stand, united we fall. We'll take all of life's punches with a pinch of salt - after all, if life was all fair and just, we wouldn't lead such interesting lives, would we?

Bah. I've been thinking about the badge-pinning ceremony a lot. It was symbolic, no doubt about that, but it also tore at a scar. I felt the same grief I did when I left my secondary school. I don't know what led me to feel that way, but it hurt. It still hurts now whenever I think of it.
I couldn't look at their faces. I knew that their eyes would sparkle with the anticipation and hope for a new council, bursting with their own aspirations for the future. I knew their eyes would conceal the indescribable grief that would pulverize every fibre of their beings. I knew they'd be torn - torn between holding on, and letting go.

Wanting so much to put on a brave face for their juniors, yet feeling their resolve crumble and their tears wet their eyes.

I don't blame them for crying. I was on the verge on descending into a bawling session when they asked the audience to thank the 28th SC one last time. Seeing all of them standing there, decked smartly in their blazers, ties straight, badges upright - council badges intact, on the collar - those were their last few minutes as councillors. I felt this gratitude - this immense gratitude - and all the pent-up anger and frustration from the TASC nomination period just vanished. All the resentment I'd harboured at certain individuals for tormenting us. In retrospect, they did it all for our own good. I think that's what I'll tell my juniors. As they trooped off the stage, some with a spring in their step, others a heaviness of spirit, I couldn't help but look at the empty seats onstage. Places to be filled. Places freshly vacated. That lingering sense of emptiness.

The sense of losing all you've known, yet finding a strange comfort in a replica of the original.

I wish the 28th SC well. I might not have known them long, or known all of them for that matter, but I still miss them. It just seems weird with the 29th SC in control.

This will take some getting used to.

I thought their final performance was screaming "Look at us now!" in the face. I could tell they were giving their all, and all of us just stood up and gave them rousing rounds of applause and cheers, a standing ovation, just as we'd done throughout the ceremony. The standing ovation - it's reserved as the highest form of respect for a performer. The 28th SC truly did deserve the standing ovation. Not just for their performances at the investiture, but for all the service they've rendered to the school, the time they've slogged without complaining, taking setbacks in their stride.

I can only hope that one day, my tutors and fellow peers will be able to look at me and accord me the respect they accord the 28th SC. I'll make it my personal mission to accomplish that.

29th SC investiture - the aftermath
Lots of hugging, lots of photo-taking, buckets of tears shed, nostalgia, reminiscence, melancholy.

For the TASC, it was oh-so-bittersweet.

Went out for a council dinner after that. Got a cake, celebrated Woonyee and the TASC's birthdays! Happy birthday, TASC! Yeah, had a nice bonding session over *a certain topic*. =)

TASC, we'll have our naysayers. We'll have the people who rain on our new beginnings, who dunk our faces in iced water to distract us from the tasks at hand. We'll have deadlines, oppressive ones, demanding people, everything. We've just got to take everything and roll with them. Don't let them get the better of us.

We can do it, TASC. Let's show the 29th SC that a 12-man team can surpass the standard of that of a 32-man one. Let's show them what we're capable of. After all, the 28th SC's left big boots to fill. We don't have boots to fill, but I think we should be ordering a size off the charts - one that won't fit a giant's feet. We're going to make living up to the pioneer batch's standards real difficult.

In every way, a day to remember, all my life. (quote from Huimin's nick)

College Day

2005-05-21T20:57:00.000-07:00

It's been two weeks since I last posted here. I hope this weblog doesn't fall into a state of disuse again, as is with my other blog. Sigh.

Let's see. I have 5 mins or so to post, then I'm going off to study.

Update on College Day. I think my claims that I would suffocate in the blazer were unfounded, as were those of my getting blisters from the court shoes. As it turned out, the blazers were actually kinda cooling after awhile (maybe it's just me) and the court shoes were ..well. If I can run in them, they're fine. Only thing that was slightly disconcerting was teachers giving me weird looks while I was all being all formal and everything. Never mind. I'll learn.

So yes. Torture = looking at scrumptious buffet while on DUTY and not being able to gorge yourself with the food. Sheer agony as I watched the buffet table cleared time and again for the chefs to whip up more servings of a particular dish.

But other than having to stand around at some remote location in school for 120 mins, college day was fun, I guess. Got to know quite a few council seniors as we rehearsed for the Investiture. And uncovered some scandals! SCANDAL. *winks and points to a certain TASC member*

Aww. The 28th Council's gonna be stepping down after Wednesday. Which means the morning announcements will be read by someone else. Which means we'll have to report to the 29th Council instead. Some of us are actually quite close to our 28th Council seniors so I suppose it's sad? Ah well. But I wish them well for their As and applaud their dedication to the College. Taking TJ to new heights. Betterment through dedication.

A new semester beckons. For them, it's also their final months in the College, a countdown to university life and consequently, their whole future. They have their whole future ahead of them. As they embark on this last phase of their TJ lives, I can only hope they're braver, stronger and wiser now. Facing the realities of the harsh working world out there is going to be tough. But as it is, there's something about human nature that enables us to prevail against the most daunting of challenges. It's that innate sense of determination that we all possess. The key to success is turning the key of Perseverance (pardon the pun) in the keyhole labelled Adversity.

And I think i'll stop here now. Great I just overshot my time limit on blogging. Goodness. Til the Geography test is over,

Kerry.

A sporadic update

2005-05-06T10:41:00.000-07:00

I was just about to retire for the day when I remembered my weblog. And of course, memories came flooding back as I reminisced about the stupid things I used to post on my previous blog.

Stupid things. Like a play about a particular teacher. Like barrages of insults against the PAP. Like all my musings and random philosophical trains of thought.

Then I remember how it was a vehicle for the expression of my pent-up anger. Those days when I'd just bang the keys, so frustrated, so lost, so confused. Those days when it felt like the whole world was against me. Those days when I felt I couldn't confide in anyone else.

And it's no different with this blog. I've grown up a little since then, wisened up a little more. And upon reflection, I realize I sometimes think too much. Now, thinking too much may not necessarily be a bad thing, but I start thinking about the ugly side of humanity and humanity's foibles and then I get all philosophical and you know how philosophy tends to depress people. Well at least temporarily.

On another tangent, I was surfing the Sport School's website out of boredom the other day and I came across a name which struck me. Or rather, two.

Nathaniel Ho, table tennis academy.
Timothy Low, golf academy.

At first glance they seem so ordinary. Then it hits me - old acquaintances from a childcare centre I used to attend back in primary 4. I remember Timothy. I remember the silly tricks we used to play on the teacher supervising us. I remember our sharing answers to assessment papers. I remember the rivalry with the Bishan childcare centre during excursions. I remember us acting as psyducks. And so much more. Funny how something can just jerk your memory like that.

I remember Nathaniel, the shy primary 2 kid whose height misled us into believing he was in primary 4. I remember his passion for the table tennis table and how he'd go, matter-of-factly, " I play table tennis". We used to talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I can't exactly remember what we talked about, but little did I imagine the little kid with big dreams would one day take a step towards realizing his dream of becoming a professional table tennis player.

That's it. You make your dreams happen.

Darn. I'm awfully dead tired. For some reason my posts tend to spiral into some kind of reflective musing. Hmm. And everyone says I look tired, despite my theory that more sleep will cause one to feel lethargy more strongly than if one had had less sleep, which would cause the person to be 'hyper', ostensibly perky. Mr Cheng says I always look tired. Melody says I look tired, and have quadruple eyelids (that was that day. I don't now!). Ms Tiew says I look stressed. All the time.

Oh my gosh. What's happening to me.. argh.

Maybe it has something to do with how many hours of sleep I get a night. Well on average my sleeping hours have been pushed back from 11.30 to 12am to 12.30 to 1 and now it's hovering around 1.30. I hate sleeping so late, used to get hangovers initially but have gotten used to it now. Sigh. Sleep deprivation.

I have a thousand and one things to do. Looks like I won't be going online much this weekend. Gah. Time management. Yes.

Okay I'm seriously going to sleep now. My eyelids are drooping. You don't want to see me now, I assure you. I look worn.

Kerry

testing

2005-05-01T17:07:00.000-07:00

I finally got around to revamping this place. Strange, huh, if you count the number of times I've been saying I'm going to change the template. Sigh.

Change is constant. It's probably the only thing that's constant in this world, apart from God.

It's been a hectic month. Being bombarded with projects everyday has become the norm. And with the Open House project eating away at my time, I'll count myself lucky if I get home before 8pm every day. This is going to take some getting used to.

And then you have the social aspect of life. What with friendships, relationships, crushes and the like. What was once speculation has turned into reality. What was once a flutter of the heart has evolved into something more. You find yourself thinking of a certain someone even after you leave the school premises. And no, by saying that, I don't mean the teachers. Heh.

FYI, I'm not nursing some crush on someone, in case anyone perceives the above paragraph as more than I intended it to. It's just a casual observation.

And through it all, I'm sometimes afraid. Forget the realization that we're growing up and all, you start realizing that innocence is lost.

Darn. This whole teenage-angst thing is getting to me again. I keep telling myself not to whine about how I don't have any time for myself anymore thanks to school, 'coz I should be grateful I even have school to occupy my time with. How many children out there would gladly take my place? I wonder, and I shut myself up.

I'll look to Him always. I know I'll never walk alone. God walks with me.