opening 2

1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3.Bb5
Spanish Opening, more commonly known as Ruy Lopez Opening. One of the favourites of masters, one of the soundest openings. Commonly used in tournaments and matches. Black has many defence choices for his third move.

opening 1

1.e4 e5 2.d4 d6 3.exd4 dxd4 4.Qxd8+ Kxd8
My favourite version of King's Gambit Variation declined. By eliminating both queens, I can carry out my plans without that offensive piece messing them up. I also disable my opponent's castling ability as White

1st week at school

Yeah, my first week back at NUS High has been rather good...The best part is that I have 2 three hr breaks each week. My CCA just started and seriously it was just as slack as it ever was...which is good! Any ways I was lucky to be selected for the Maths Olympiad Training class... maybe because my Olympiad scores were not bad...

Chinese Contest...

Yesterday, I just saw this Chinese Competition... Virtually all the finalists were IP schools except Xinmin and over half the the finalist competitors were Chinese nationals...Anyway RI was leading all the way until the part where they had to complete Chinese poems and in the end Nanyang Girl's caught up with them( they were second the whole while) and then became the winner by 1 point. I was kind of surprised that Hwachong Institution actually ended up becoming only winning the third prize, them being a SAP school and all...still, good job for Nanyang, though they lost to RI in the latest Arena( see of my previous posts) they won them this time round. 1-1 to both of them, then.

end of halcyon

Just one more day...
and then there were none

last few days of fun...

As the June holidays reach its last throes, I look forward to seeing my busy life again...Fortunately my piano lessons culminate too as I take the Grade 8 exam a month later. Hopefully my like will be much better after that...

Phew...

Well, finally finished my tuition homework. Here it is...

The Scottish Sun was once glaring, but now it barely got past the surface of the murky body of water I lived my whole life in. As such, I woke up everyday never knowing whether it was sunrise or sunset. Still, what did I care? Time mattered no more in my now idyllic lifestyle.

It was a chore, as often to lift my body out of the seabed. I flapped my four appendages up and down, hard, sending huge waves across the water, scaring away potential breakfast. Some burrowed deep in to the black muddy bed while other swam as fast as they could to the other end of the pond. It was futile to escape my jaws though. Spotting a rather succulent fish at the corner furthest from me, I simply stretched over my neck and swallowed it in one gulp.

I stretched my neck out of the water’s surface, and the bright afternoon light struck me full on the face, dazzling me. Afraid that I would leave traces of my existence, I dropped down without hesitation, my tail only leaving small ripples in its wake.

Ever since we had strayed into this dark, murky body of water and taken abode many million years ago, my family had lived peacefully here, or so I was told. However, at some point in time, there was a great catastrophe, wiping out all others of our kind except us. By remaining hidden under a thick layer of ice that had encased the upper half of the lake, most of the life forms in the loch managed to survive the cataclysmic event. However, slowly but surely, many of my group started dying off. Strange creatures, standing on two of their limbs, would hunt us down as food. I was the only one left now.

Now I could only lead a monotonous lifestyle day after day, and try to avoid being spotted by the beings on the surface. I am sure that they would capture me if they spotted me. Though indeed, a few decades back, I was careless and let slip evidence of my existence. A few of the surface beings spotted me, who had been sunbathing on the road, tired of my boring life and wanting a taste of the bright sun. Seeing me, they were, for a moment, awestruck to have laid eyes on me. However, I knew that their inactiveness would not last for long and so I attempted to return to the loch as quickly as possible, though I was, indeed, extremely clumsy on land. Fortunately no one believed the two and thus no one came after me.

For now, I still live, rather peacefully in the loch, although I hear from other inhabitants that many ridiculous legends have been cooked up around me. For example there is the one about my name, Nessie. I’m male! Such a feminine name...

Basically it's a story you would write if you were Nessie. I don't believe in her though...

Xian...

Goddamn holidays gt more week left...just got more exciting but really not the way i want it cuz my mom got me a new EL tutor and she started work by giving me 2 essays...Now still slogging over the second one...haizz...

Chess endings

Checkmate the Black King in 50 moves
Black: Kh8
White: Kh1, Nh2, Bg2
Damn difficult for me actually...

Literary...

This piece was written by me in my first English writing competition ever. Not exactly my favorite genre, but still...

The trishaw, as its name implies, is a three-wheeled vehicle. The trishaw was a common means of transport back in the olden days in Singapore. The three-wheeled vehicle existed in its earlier form as the rickshaw in Shanghai in 1880 and was manually pulled by a rider in front of a seat attached to two big wheels. The trishaw made its debut in Singapore in the 1940s, and although we do not see many trishaws on the roads now, it remains a strong icon of our rich cultural history.

The trishaw evolved from the Japanese invention, rickshaws. The three-wheeler varied in design with the seat for the passenger sometimes in front, and in other parts of Asia, behind the trishaw rider. But in Singapore, the seat is located at the side of the trishaw rider, which is a bicycle attached to a sidecar. A hood, like those found on the rickshaw, also provides shade for the trishaw passenger. It is much easier to drive and was twice as speedy as rickshaws, and thus soon rendered the rickshaw obsolete. Though a motorised, even faster version soon appeared in Asia, it never really caught on in Singapore, thus the pedalled trishaw survives till today.

I have, in fact, a rather affectionate feeling for the trishaw, due to the fact that I had a very close relationship with it over almost a decade ago, while I was still attending nursery school. I shall now relate that intriguing story to you.

When I just started nursery school, it was not exactly a stone’s throw away from my house. The nursery school was in Farrer Park while my house (we have moved house since then) was in Kent Ridge. We definitely could not take the taxi as we would be bankrupt in almost no time. There was no bus stop next to the nursery. That proved to be a major problem for me. Why? I had a younger brother who needed to be taken care of. The worst thing was that he would start screaming and crying once he stepped out of the house, for some funny reason. With father at work, mum had to take care of him, so I had to go to school to and fro by myself everyday. I would most probably have gotten lost, as I was still about three years old. I also did not know how to ride the bicycle then (duh!). Therefore, my mom hired this rather old trishaw rider, and from that day on he would ferry me to and fro every day.

Over the year, I learned that in order to supplement his meagre income, he would also work as a rag-and-bone man. He would diligently search for discarded cardboard pieces or aluminium cans, whether in covered HDB apartment void decks or under the blazing afternoon sun.

I can still remember with fondness the time when I was rather sick. However, my mother and I did not know it at all – until I started vomiting in earnest in the trishaw. You would expect the old man to be enraged at seeing his dear rickshaw dirtied in such a manner. Yet, not just did he not have a few sharp words with me; he immediately took me home hastily, all the while saying reassuring words all the way. He even bought two big, red, juicy apples which cost about two dollars each. If he earns about ten cents a day through picking up cardboard pieces, he would have blown away more than a fortnight’s salary on the apples. You can see how caring he is from this example.

Thus ends my relationship with the trishaw rider. I have not seen the man for about seven years; the last time I saw him, he was about eighty years old. I wonder where he is now. I miss him.

And the rickshaws in Chinatown and Little India live on… …

Interesting(not) trip...

Yeah, a trip to the Science Centre yesterday cuz my bro saw the advertisements extolling the fact that they had managed to get quite a few Dinosaurs Alive exhibits, including waht they call a one and only nine (metre or feet? not sure) of a Tyrannosaurus Rex at the front of the Centre. In fact they're not what they're all so praised about, just gigantic robots covered with a layer of leathery skin. In fact their repetitive movements make them even more boring. Trtip was cut even shorter by an IMAX movie my bro wanted to watch. Darn.

Bored...

BOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBOREDBORED
Yeah, I really am getting sorta bored cuz im following the same life pattern every day. LOL

My 1st writing competition...

This piece was written by me for the first online writing competition I ever took part in...

1000 hrs: Finding Target Area

The day was calm, the sky was azure, and a special freshness hung in the air, except for a thin mist. Such wonderful weather was rare in 2164.

1100 hrs: Target located

The field, being a lush spot in the country, was chosen for Independence Day ceremonies that year, the day The United States defeated the German invasion in World War Three.

1200 hrs: Scanning Target Area

It was noon. The field was packed, with everyone waiting with bated breath for President Jodhpurs’ speech. The mist could not spoil their day.

1300 hrs: Results Promising. Prepare Soran Ray for Harvesting

The inspiring talk, during which the mist started thickening, was over; celebrations could begin. As Jodhpurs lit the firecrackers, parties started immediately. No fog could deter that joyous mood.

1400 hrs: Charging up Soran Ray. Send soldiers to guard area

A strange zapping sound came from within the fog. No one paid attention—till many heavily-armored guards armed with cruel looking blades and menacing laser weapons emerged.

1401 hrs: Soran Ray ready for Harvest

No one moved. They knew they were powerless against these people.

1403 hrs: Activate Ray and energy harvesters

Suddenly, a huge cannon appeared above the Americans. All the armed guards disappeared. Almost at the same time, before anyone could do more than scream, the cannon sent out a great flare. Nothing survived.

1405 hrs: Retreat to stratosphere

As the fog dissipated, a barren yellow land remained.

And one lonely, withered tree.

Just hope it's ok...

Sci fi literary

Just wrote this on a whim...

Named after a royal figure and looking like one, Queen Anne 3, when viewed from the sky above the snake-like, winding tributaries of the Amazon, bore herself with regal & grace. The ship’s sleek design was a marvel of modern engineering & economics: more passengers fit, less space wasted on equipment with many spacious viewing decks.

Reagan Groove had spent a fortune on this trip. All for Madeline. He was also making sure he got every farthing he deserved.

He tried to ignore the old spinsters’ shouts while using the binoculars. $50 each! Twice what he could get at home!

He turned slightly & froze. Dark shadows swept down, turning day into night. He had never seen anything like it. An Amazon storm?

Reagan’s heart pounding hard, he called out for a sailor. As if that would help.

Surely the blackness would pass.

Surely.

All at once, the shapes released a mist-like, black cloud that started to descend on everything.

Black particles covered & choked Reagan, covering his entire body.

Then the needle-like pain started.

Then grew.

And grew.

He tried to run but every tendon was in excruciating pain.

Then he abandoned all reserve, and tried to swipe the dust off his body, and screamed as his skin melted off him. Blood pouring from every orifice, Reagan collapsed.

The old ladies—everyone on the ship—died the same way Reagan did.

The “dust” continued dissolving in its path, leaving a film of black matter over the once flourishing jungle.