Automated Description of Life

This is basically a post on the autobiography assignment I was supposed to do as part of an interesting module I’m doing, called Intro to Media Writing. NM2220. I, (an engineering student), am taking it as a Breadth module, meaning it’s outside my faculty.

No shit, Sherlock.

I’m the only Engineering student in a class filled with Arts majors, a single Computing major (Greetings, fellow geek!) and (I think) a single Year 4 Law student. Bell curve god? There is no God here.

Oh well, here goes. I’m supposed to have written an autobiography in 300 words or less. Not easy, 300 words, I’ll tell you that. Gimme 1000, I can do it, no problem. But 300? Wow. Still, I tried. And this was the end result. Do not judge me too harshly. Please?

**********************************

I was born with pneumonia after swallowing water in the womb. If this story of my birth is to be believed, it was to be but a foreshadowing of the trials I would face early in my life.

Bullying took its toll on me, yet it remains one of the most significant periods of my life. Ostracised and alone during my teenage years, I had no choice but to turn inwards and develop an inner voice. This voice is the same one you hear now, allowed to run free, though whether that is a good thing is the subject of much debate.

I found solace, not in the descriptions of motion scripted by Newton that I studied and that were used regularly to torment adolescents everywhere, but in the acoustic and visual poetry of words. Exposed to it at a young age, the literary world was my Narnia, an escape from the mocking I experienced in my daily life. Ironically, given my experiences, Holocaust and murder mysteries are far from my favourite genres of fiction. I prefer conspiracy theories.

My National Service experience was enjoyable. Able to push myself to my physical and mental limits, I fondly remember my time as an Infantry section commander. However, it was not until I was in university as an engineering student that I found my other great love.

If music is the canvas, dance is both paint and painter. Being rejected by NUS Dance Blast! awakened in me a determination and refusal to accept defeat that I did not know I had, resulting in my subsequent acceptance into said club. Moving to beautiful music offers a type of harmony and order which would silence even the most fervent perpetrator of chaos.

*************************************************************

Again, do not judge. I am a slave to the horrible inadequacies of being surrounded by people who’ve spent their entire lives thinking about this kind of stuff and excelling at it.

There may be a more detailed post on this sometime in the future, I’m not too sure.

Ah well.

Happy Chinese New Year everyone!

Gong xi fa cai. Hong bao na lai. Wo mei you hong bao, wo kei ni black eye.

A primary school joke, yet it still manages to squeeze laughter out of me.

Mature, no?

Indeed.

Shut up.

 

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Memoirs and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s