The Interviewer

There she was again, sitting in front of her desk, waiting for another hopeful to appear. Twirling her pen, she looked down upon the applicant’s impressive CV. Turns out the applicant had exceptional grades, participated in lots of extra-curriculur activities, won awards she has never heard of and even volunteered at a local hospital. It was so well written that she could almost feel the pride that student felt when he finished typing his resume.

But weren’t all of these resumes impressive? The whole bunch of prospective students dress themselves up with godly Curriculum Vitae (CV) and glowing teacher’s reviews. If you never knew the applicant in person, you would think every one of them was a talented young invidual, the new star of tomorrow. From presidents to athletes, from debators to musicians, she has seen them all. Never was there one who said humbly that he was just a normal student. It was as if everyone were under layers and layers of makeup, and you need to slowly remove them to see who he or she truly was.

That’s where the interview comes into play.

Throughout the years, she has broken down those so-called presidents, athletes, debators and musicians. That was her skill. She had an exceptional ability to pick up certain weak spots in what someone was saying and magnify the error, rendering all the talented newcomers speechless or even stuttering. The cynical side of her quite enjoyed looking at the shocked expression on their faces when they run out of things to say, while her compassionate side felt a slight tinge of pity for them. At this point, the applicant will be stripped naked of everything; no more good grades to help, no more leadership positions to his rescue. And this is when she leans back into her chair, puts down her pen and crosses her arms.

But once in a while, there will be this highly proficient conversationalist who comes along. Working as an interviewer for so many years, she can almost always sense one. They all possess a certain charismatic quality about them. The conversation feels genuine; all the pretence and haughtiness will be thrown out the window. This kind of interviewees are not afraid to be stripped naked of their appraisal letters. Rather, they welcome the challenge and respond with such an amazing touch of grace and elegance that blows her away. With every sentence made, her head will be nodding subconciously. The minutes will fly by and before she knew it, she has been throughly charmed by the applicant. That it should happen more often has always been a wish of hers.

There was someone knocking on her office door. It was time again. She put on a smile and said, “Come in.”

To All Chonghwa-rians Who Just Graduated:

Hey guys, you have just finished slogging through 6 years of hard work. I congratulate you! So sorry I couldn’t attend the graduation party, I had some tests I needed to sit for. That’s why I’m writing about it now, just to make up for it. =)

I see the pictures my friend Joel posted on his blog, and it seems like graduation went well. There’s a problem with photos though, as you can only see the surface. You can’t truly LIVE the experience. You don’t know the emotion roller coaster the people in the photos are going through; you can only try to decipher the feelings behind every smile, behind every laugh.

All that being said, brace yourselves for life outside of high school. It is where all the FUN starts! Under every square mortar board (the graduation hat) lies an individual who thirsts for freedom and wants to experience the world. There is no better time to start than now.

Nigel

The Allergy

A few weeks ago, I woke and found some reddishness around my upper lip. Not only that, but my lips were also dry. For the pessimistic, it may be cancer munching away at my healthy body cells. For the optmist, it’s just a little allergy.

Just a little allergy.

This phrase has been used too much in life. You see your friend having a pimple breakout, and she says “Oh it’s just my little allergy to peanuts”. Or you could see an old man gasping for his last breath saying “Help, I forgot I’m allergic to alcohol!” The effects of allergies vary so greatly that sometimes you never really know what’s going to happen to you.

And like all other allergy sufferers, I knew that I had to do something about it. 5 minutes later, I was at the local pharmacy, looking to buy some cream. The pharmacist was an attractive young lady. Upon giving me a quick glance, “Oh, it’s eczema! Use this,” she said, handing me a steroid cream.

I looked at the little box which says “Dermapro Ointment – For Eczema”. Not convinced, I mentioned that it could just be an allergy.

“Just use it, and tell me if it doesn’t work. Have a good day!” Such was the attention-span of the modern day pharmacist.

In many ways, I see using cream to cure your allergy similar to using mints to cure your bad breath; it’s only a temporary palliative that soothes, but doesn’t cure. You can take the whole box of mints in one go, but the person kissing you will still know you had cheese and lasagna for lunch.

The Mannequin

I’m not really that different from the walking creatures you call humans. It’s just that I’m white, and my eyes lack irises. Before I was sent out to shops, my siblings told me that life as a mannequin isn’t tough at all. All you got to do is stand there for a couple of years, then your owners will replace you with newer, whiter mannequins, and that will be the end of you.

                Very soon I found out who my owner was. Not only that, she also gave me a name. I stood under a big sign which says “Dorothy Perkins”.

                I guess you can call me Dorothy. Everyone calls me that. Especially those little teenage girls that walk past the shop and shriek, “Oh Em Gee it’s Dorothy Perkins!” And who can blame them? For I’m attractive and pretty,  fairer than the fairest of damsels, more proportionate than the most svelte of models! In fact, all I have to do is strike a cool pose, and everyone will come running.

                And then there was this other thing. When I was first placed in this spot, my owner dressed me up with great thought. She spent a long time thinking what to put on me: A blouse or a shirt? No, no, that doesn’t look good. How about a cardigan? My naked body was soon filled with raiment of all kinds, not to mention some very exotic jewelry. I felt very proud indeed.

                There was this one time, where I saw a teenage girl who dressed exactly like I did. Same top, same bottom, same everything. I nicknamed her Little Dorothy. Undoubtedly, she was my fan. The first time she saw me, I saw a faint look of intrigue on her face. That intrigue soon turned to surprise and wonder. Inside my plastic exterior, I smiled. I could have sworn that she saw a little twinkle in my eyes for when I did so, she smiled back. However, deep down inside, I knew she would never grow to be as pretty as I. She was just a stupid human being, while I’m a model of perfection.

                Girls love to gossip, and I was no exception. Tired after work, I would gather around my fellow mannequins  and listen to the latest gossip, for it always contains some interesting bits. Once, they mentioned that there will be a new clothing store moving in opposite to us. I was elated! (Right now, the store opposite sells undergarments, which makes me feel really uncomfortable).

                “I heard he’s from America!”

                “I heard he’s a designer!”

                “I heard his name is Calvin!”

                True enough, his name was Calvin. Calvin Klein, to be exact. He was good looking, possessing a strong jawline, a muscular body and firm abs to boot. It was also all because of him that all the mannequins in my store looked more attractive: they wanted to get Calvin’s attention.

                People never talked about Dorothy Perkins soon after that. Now, everyone looks at Calvin, nods his (or her) head, and goes into that shop. A few minutes later, they would emerge with shopping bags labeled “CK” in front of them. I’ve always wondered what is that supposed to mean. Chinese Kung-fu?

                Nobody looks at poor Dorothy now. Nobody. Not even my fan, Little Dorothy. This feeling is like seeing your best friends getting date after date while you stand aside, making way for them. But what’s so great about Calvin Klein anyway? All he wears  are suits, suits and suits again. I also know his little secret: he never wears his underwear!

The Night before the SAT

Tomorrow, I’ll have to wake up at 5 am, something I have never done for a wile. I remember the last time I woke up at 5 (or was it 4?). It was something that led to all of this, something equally nail-biting and nervous. It was the day I went for the scholarship interview.

But let’s not talk about this, shall we? The SAT shall hog the spotlight in this post, and not some other random event.

It’s 8.39 pm. When I wake up tomorrow, the sky will still be as dark as the sky is now. And under the chill of dawn, I’ll be packing my bags, not for a trip, but for a test. Food? check. Water? check. Jacket? check. Extra number 2 pencils? Oops, I totally forgot about them. Ok, check.

Bubbles will be the main entree tomorrow, and there will be lots and lots of little bubbles. They will all be waiting in line, waiting for the sharp point of carbon to give them a new coating of black paint. As unlikely as it may seem, all the bubbles are brothers, named A, B, C, D and E. Standing in line, they seem equally enticing, and you can see each of them begging you to give him a new coat of paint. The foolish, as always, will conform to their needs instanly, but the wise will think twice before fulfilling their desires.

But alas, paint is limited, and only the best among them gets it. The others will still stand there, naked and defenseless, as bubbly as ever.

I’ve always liked to imagine things before I attempt them; it’s fascinating to see how far from the truth your imagination turns out to be. Right now I’m seeing little wooden tables with plastic chairs paired with them. I will be sitting somewhere in the middle of the class, eyes transfixed at a point on the paper, reading a passage fastidiously. Other pupils will be doing the same. All the anxiety felt in the class will be contrasted by the boredom which is felt by the invigilator, “When can I go home and watch How I Met Your Mother?”

One can imagine how everything looks like, even to the most minutiae of details. What one cannot imagine are the emotions one will be going through. Will I be pleased? Sad? Abject? Triumphant? Will I be smiling? Smirking? Or frowning?

It all depends on the little bubbles.

Another Perspective

Hello readers, just a quick update.

So our English teacher had us make another blog to talk about our English progress in the TOEFL and the SAT. Two were assigned to each group; Joshua and I ended up being team members.

I must warn you, Joshua’s writing ability is second to none. He writes with such force and vigor that leaves you wondering why this dude isn’t sitting behind a desk writing for newspaper columns! I really admire the way he uses words, not to mention the way in which he conveys something rhethorically.

As for me, I shall sprinkle the blog with more light-heartedly written topics, topics with a more “casual” feel (think of jeans with polo-tees). If you’re a frequent reader of my blog, you may be able to distinguish between the two who writes there. I really think we make a fine team.

Alright then, here’s the blog: http://theforcedblog.wordpress.com/
Feel free to give it a visit.

Oh yeah, by the way, university life is picking up the pace. I’m starting to feel the ludicrous amounts of pressure piling up. But fear not, for I shall leave this place unscathed (or at least that’s what I hope!) =P

Till next time.

Nigel

Jump Jump Jump Jump Jump!

Hello readers,

It’s been almost 2 months in my new college, and instead of feeling the heat of SATs and TOEFL coming, my friends and I never fail to find crazy stuff to do in class. We took some pictures a few days ago. And they’re not normal pictures, mind you, they’re jump poses!

These poses are absolutely fun to take. That said,they can be really enervating too, as some of the pictures require a gazillion takes to get right (and using a crappy handphone camera doesn’t help either!).

Here are more which feature my friends:

That’s all for this post then. Go jump. Now!

Nigel