{What Really Is Our Destiny?}


To my dear, dear debaters who've worked so hard, enjoy what you've received. You've reaped what you've sown. However, we're all filled to be emptied again; the seeds that you've received, you must sow!

Sometimes I wonder, just what is our destiny? Are we to just remain where we are, contented with the little patch of sky that we can see from within our deep and mossy well? Even though nobody bothers looking down the circular hole to ask us how we're doing, are we going to sit quietly and wait for the sun to set?

Or will we climb up the grimy stone walls, even the coldness stings your skin and your fingers rub painfully and bloodily against the rough bricks? Which is it for us, the blue sky, or comfort where we are now?

I wonder what things will be like after I evaporate from this adorable little well, and diffuse into the external atmosphere. I'll definitely rain down into the little well, trickling down its walls to see what things are like. And, if I hit the surface with enough impact, I'll stir around a bit, shake up the still waters a bit, before being liberated into the atmosphere again.

It's amazing how water, even when evaporated, is still essentially dihydrogen oxide. Even though it's no longer part of the little well, it is still water in essence. Even though its vapours fly freely, it's still a little, innocent village boy at heart. Always a well dweller at heart, never forgetting the depths from which he'd fought so hard to climb out from.

Oh, the sky. Ah. The sky.

Benson blogged at 4/18/2009 12:00:00 AM.
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{Thomas Pinikles Sud,}




The greatest director of our day.



Sud, and Brendan his personal assistant.



The entire cast of The Pot Boiler.

Benson blogged at 4/11/2009 12:18:00 AM.
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{I'm the greatest director of all!}


When Dyan, JianYang, JunHoe and I joined ELDDS in Sec One, we didn't think very highly of ourselves as a CCA. We felt like outcasts from the rest of the world. We felt insignificant and silly with out disastrous script in hand. But still, Dyan and myself saw hope in our motley, rag-tag crew, knowing that there was light behind the tall, dark mountains.

In Sec 2, we stupidly took our above-mentioned disastrous script to SYF, and predictably got ourselves a COP, which basically means that we did terribly. ELDDS died for the rest of the year after that.

In Sec 3, debate was the only thing stirring life in ELDDS until August, when our fantabulous drama coach Yan took over us. That sparked the beginning of the time when the sun began to rise above the dark mountains, bringing light into our dark corner. From there, we grew from a measly club with 6 members to a dedicated crew of 15 SYF members, and three extremely dedicated encouraging teachers.

In Sec 4, debate went under an extreme makeover (literally) with the addition of Edwin to our team of leaders. Now, ELDDS is fully equipped to scale even greater heights, with the support of these fantastic people and our newfound dedication and spirit.

I am so extremely proud of ELDDS. Today was the day where our past half a year of training would be put to the test. We did make-up and prep work in the AVA Room before leaving. We bonded in the changing room and took a lot of character shots and family portraits while waiting. It was agonizing to wait for our turn outside the auditorium. We just sat there, felt the nervousness well up within us, and prayed, all of us. G was right; the waiting time is the worst time of our life.

And so, when the SM told us to take the stage, we did. I was no longer Benson Pang- I was, for the next half an hour, Thomas Pinikles Sud. And we did it to the best that we could. We entertained, and we enjoyed ourselves. The best reward that an actor can ever receive is the applause, laughter and tears of his audience. And I drank in the judge's laughter, and allowed my physical body to completely be a channel for my emotions to pour out.

And when we walked off the stage, we were running around screaming and hugging each other! OMGYAY!

To my dear, dear Pot Boilers- Dyan, Felicia, Fiona, Azhar, Nadin, Brendan and Ansari, it's been a great past half year with all of you. I'm so grateful for having got to know all of you, and I'm so thankful for having got to work with all of you. I'm sorry for all the times I was sarcastic and mean to you guys. I do hope we'll get to work together with so much energy again.

To the great people behind the curtains of the Pot Boiler- Jeslyn, YiFang, JianYang, ShiYu, Nasuha, Mrs Lim, Ms Lim, Mdm Leong, Yan and Samuel, I love all of you so so much! I don't know how this play could have succeeded without any of you. You guys are the backbone holding the actors up, and the life in the veins of our entire production!

ELDDS Drama has proven itself to be a lot more capable than the people would like to believe. We have, indeed, put up our best production ever!



I'm sorry, Brendan brudder. I just had to do that.

Benson blogged at 4/09/2009 09:19:00 PM.
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{Colours}


In a desperate attempt to update my blog, I have decided to post my weekly English essay up here.

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I am an artist, and I always will be.

I started out as a student in an art studio, practising under the famed Gloria Tang. Under her tutelage, I experimented with bright and vibrant colours like red and yellow. I was like a child released into a world where colours conveyed emotions, where splashes of red and orange showed my eagerness and passion for art. With my bursting zest and love for the canvas on which I painted, Gloria felt that I would have a bright future in the arts industry. Oh, how warm I felt when she affirmed my talent for painting! My heart glowed pink radiantly, as I practised to become a better painter.

As time passed, I began to move away from the juvenile reds and yellows of my artistic infancy. I delved into deeper and more intense colours that captured the essence of my maturity as an artist. My paintings were now composed of bold purple strokes and swirls of rich green. I was becoming a great artist, and people began to take note of my paintings. However, the little bit of attention I was drawing wasn’t enough for me. I turned green with envy when I saw the work of my peers draw more attention than mine. I wanted more!

I left the comfort of my teacher’s studio, and set up my own in another district. Now, the bright, yellow-white spotlight was mine, and mine alone! I hung beautiful portraits and paintings all around my new studio, and waited for awed customers to walk in. To my astonishment, I received so few customers that I could count them with one hand! I felt the burning red passion within my spirit ebb away to leave behind a lifeless, faded maroon. Didn’t my teacher tell me that I was a great artist? What’s happening to me?

I needed to get more people to notice me. I needed attention, money. I needed more! In an attempt to attract customers, I painted frenzied works of clashing colours, intending to shock with my blotches and streaks of electric pink and forest green. I painted fervently, hoping against hope that these works would catch the attention of people who strolled past my studio. I worked till my hands were raw, red and sore. Black eyebags hung from underneath my tired, bloodshot eyes. What I drew on canvas mirrored how I felt within my spirit; confused, disoriented, and yet wanting to excel in a world that didn’t appreciate me.

In the end, I couldn’t earn enough to support my studio. I was thrown out, like apples that were once rosy red, but had turned mouldy green.

However, I wouldn’t leave just like this! I would go out with a big exit, a big bang! A big, shocking, blood red bang!

I spent all my energy on one last painting that would be exhibited at my teacher’s next exhibition. It was a painting of a man who stood enrobed with dark, black shadows, in a room without light. He stood within the bleak darkness of his room, looking plaintively out of the window. Outside his little black room, a verdant green garden awaited him, filled with lush bushes and joyful red flowers strewn across the grass. The orange sun illuminated the entire garden, but somehow, its rays missed the man.

The black depressed man yearned to go outside to enjoy the day, just like I did. All I wanted was to be a great artist, but for some reason, things just weren’t meant to be. I probably never was cut out to be an artist. Similarly, neither was the man ever destined to leave his room, because his room didn’t have a door.

I am an artist, and I always will be!

Am I?

Benson blogged at 4/05/2009 09:34:00 PM.
3 comment(s).







In Your freedom I will live;
All I am is Yours!