My employer informed us that there will be a reduction in headcount due to the no performance of the company in recent months. Since I presume the boss will not axe himself, one of 3 employees will have to go. In my friend's words, that is "serious massacre! Like when Cain killed Abel when the world population stood at 4 people."

I am putting my money that it will be me since I stand as the biggest opposition and the loudest critic of the management style and decisions. The decision will be out soon and till then, keep checking for updates.

 
I think I overworked.

I am presently running a low fever and every inch of my body hurts. I meant every inch when I said so. Even my soles hurt as I place them on the floor as I walk. My friend suspects that it is due to exhaustion. I suppose gym on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday and my games on Saturday and Sunday contributed slightly to my present predicament. What made things worse was that, I went out directly after my ball game and did not reach home till midnight.

I realized that something was amiss when I reached home, but I thought I would recover with a night's sleep.

And the result? My body felt like it weigh a ton when I woke up. I had to drag myself to work, despite feeling extremely tired and I was highly sensitive to the cold, which is unusual for me. My body began aching all over and it aggravated to the present state.

It has been quite some time since I ached this way. My body was totally alive and absolutely sensitive to every physical stimulus. My head was throbbing, my muscles and joints are aching, I am tired but I cannot sleep, my soles are sensitive and even clenching my hands hurt. It has been quite some time since I can feel the entire mattress under my body with every inch of my body.

I suddenly feel so alive.

And it sucks.

I think I overworked...

 
A friend asked me advice on relationships. And that is after the umpteenth time which I said that my path is not meant for others. This guy is either harbouring a death wish or has gotten bored of the relationship. But I figured that he is volunteering to be a sacrificial lamb in my weekly rites.

 
Give and Take

I mentioned to a friend the other night that I do not often practise give and take in relationships. There is after all, not much that I can give and there is little that I want to take. A relationship with me is always that of an invitation; an invitation to see what I see; an invitation to do what I do.

So everything should be natural and be as uncontrived as possible.

As I extend my invitations, I receive invitations as well. And it can be a cumbersome, tiring affair, but I want to see what they see, I want to know how they do what they do and why they feel how they feel. If you do not see what I see, and do not know what I do, sometimes, communications end. And when communications end, relationships will end.

Play on my curiosity to want to see what you see, lead me by your passion to do what you do. And at the end of the day, even if I might not be as passionate as you are, you will have gained my respect.

And that, is more important than love.

 
I was told that a friend got attached on Christmas eve and images of Love Hina smacked me right across my face like a brick, bouncing my brain within my skull. In my near concussion state, so many other love stories flashes across my mind...

I suppose a lot of people are looking for a day to happen. And Christmas eve is a good day to make things happen. It is surprisingly that non-christians look to Christmas eve to set things off. It is amazing how that number on the calendar can hold so much meaning for people who hardly notices any other dates at all.

I suppose not many occasions hold a meaning for me anymore. Do not be mistaken though, I am relieved that we have holidays; I am glad that there are traditions, rituals and rites to mark the passing of our years and I am terribly grateful for the rest that we can get during those days.

But that is about it.

They hold no meaning aside from being rest days for me. I am not sure if this is what people call being jaded. I do not need a reason to party, I do not need an excuse to celebrate. I require no permission to be happy. And I make things happen when I feel like it.

It is just that my social calendar may not be in sync with others.

 
I was looking at today's paper, deciding whether if there is anything in it that is worth my further messing up my room with accumulated papers when I heard a someone in the background said, "Don't need to buy, you can have mine."

Still looking for valuable articles, I continued to peep into the papers.

"Don't need to buy, you can have my copy, I have finished with it."

It was only then did I realized that the voice was directed to me. I turned around to see a clean shaven, bespectacled man, dressed very casually, in his early thirties holding today's papers in his arms.

He looked at me, and continued," Don't need to buy. I have finished my papers, you can have them if you want." In rather much of a loss, I mumbled something and took the papers. This, being the first time in my life being offered newspaper by a stranger, my inexperience is apparent in my lack of graciousness in accepting his goodwill.

All the while, I looking at him. He reminded me of someone I met on IRC, someone whom I discussed philosophy and Zen extensively with, someone who impressed me with both his worldly wisdom and knowledge in the spiritual. By the time, I collected my thoughts, he was already a distance away, slowly putting more between us.

It is time to catch up with old friends.

 
The Return To The Gym

My flu is almost gone. And tomorrow, I will return to the gym. A week of inactivity since coming down with flu last Tuesday has me looking forward to pumping iron. With the rest, I think my body is now ready to go even further...

 
Once in a while, you can find people seated in their machines staring blankly into the air or just staring at their weights, and you might wonder what they are thinking about. When that happens to me, I am probably not thinking about anything...

Nothing at all...

It is hardly surprising, since there is not much you can associate with weights except maybe effort and pain. The mental struggle between the conscious will to move the weights and the innate inertia of the mind can have a hypnotizing effect on an individual. There will be a period of disorientation as the mind searches for a reason to stretch the arms, to wrap the fingers round the cold steel and force the tired muscles to exert...

If you doubt the integrity of these words, that is because you have yet to meet the people who hang weights by a metal chain around their waist as they performs their chin-ups; or the people who lifts loads above their body weight; and people who exhaust the stack of weights on the machines.

The greatest obstacle to lifting the weights is often not gravity, but the thousand whys that accompanies every action. Often in such situations, my mind will be a sea of doubts and incoherent thoughts, of which a few might be picked up. One becomes keenly aware of every ache, every pain and every strain of fatigue that runs through the body. Arms become heavy, breaths turn short… if it is truly is such a pain, why then this?

Because all doubts fall behind when you fly...

 
what-is-wrong-with-these-people episode

My friend told me that I have lost weight. And that is good. What is wrong with these people? I spent months at the gym trying to gain a few pounds and it is good to lose all that within a few days due to flu?

Losing weight sucks and it is not good. Can these people even fail to see this point?

Sunday was not as enjoyable as it was supposed to be. The rain and my flu prevented me from playing ball. And in the middle of the afternoon, I emerged from my room to find my brother's room half submerged in water. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the water was not due to the rain, but rather the water pump for the fish tank in the living room. The fish, had apparently in one of their often sudden jerks, dislodged one of the tubes attached to the pump.

The pump instead of pumping the water back into the tank began to pump water out of the tank. And the water had flowed from the living room into my brother's room. His papers and electronic equipment on the floor are now soaked in water. The Apple Wireless Airport is now a seaport and his computer almost had liquid cooling above and beyond his cooling fan.

Looking at the situation, I knew that a storm is brewing, a time bomb is ticking. If it was my room, I would have flipped. I would come home, survey the scene, feeling totally pissed. I would slowly pack, and as I plod on, anger will come sipping in, as with every passing minute, additional damages will be uncovered. Alarms were ringing, and I plan to evacuate before my brother returns. I grab some cloth and did basic damage control. But the damage was too extensive for a lone individual and I dialled for back up.

My mum, after having the situation described to her, simply asked, "How's the fish?"

For a second, I was stunned. I mean... what the fuck, what is wrong with these people? They are just fish. What we are talking about here are high tech equipment worth thousands. A potential nuclear meltdown upon my brother's return is staring in our face, do they not understand?

Just what is wrong with these people? Their priorities are warped and their concerns totally misdirected... have their survival instincts died? Or what?

 
How fickle fortune is! Just recently a downtrodden, broken man, a friend of mine is now flying high on the clouds... having being a regular victim of fate's temperamental disposition, I wonder when will turbulence bring this joyride to a sudden halt, plunging our SQ into the Petronas Towers.

Never being an object of desire for the fairer sex, and having being repeatedly rejected by a girl he has pursued for years, he was the epitome for perseverance, if not masochism.

perseverance: n. a lowly virtue whereby mediocrity achieves an inglorious success.

But now, things are different, his luck has suddenly changed for the better. The predator has become the prey. At the lowest point of his romantic life, where everything seems bleak and grey, he received an unexpected invitation from a female colleague for a date on the eve of Christmas. Either Santa found that he has been a good boy for the past year or all the flirting, joking and teasing of that colleague finally paid off.

Technical issue 1: Though at this point, it must occur to one to ask if that colleague does as well have a masochistic streak, since she seemed to like being teased and insulted. That being said, it brings to mind another question.

Philosophical inquiry 1: It has been said that the worst way to torture a sadist is to pair he/she up with a masochist. But in this case, one cannot help but explore the mechanics of a masochist-masochist pairing.

He: "You whip me first. "
She: "No, you whip me first."
He: "I hit first last week."
She: "Do you think I care? You whip me first. "
He: "I am not going to whip you. Why am I always the one to give in?"
She: "Because I am a woman and I am entitled to be a bitch. "
He: "Look, bitch, I am the man around here and I will be the one who gives the f**king orders. "
She: "Oh yea? Look who is the one cuffed to the bedpost wearing nothing but a leash and my panties. "
He: "..."
*silence then the sound of whip cracking*

Philosophical inquiry 2: Can one inflict pain by withholding pain?

Technical and philosophical difficulties aside, how this story unfolds has shown that it remains true to the cultural and literary influences in the manga tradition where the male protagonist starting out often as unloved, ostracized and often ridiculed, later turned out to be a babe magnet as the plot develops...

He was a skater boy
She said see you later boy
He wasn't good enough for her
Now he's a super star
Slamming on his guitar
Does your pretty face see what he's worth?

~ Avril Lavigne
Sk8er Boi
Let Go

He could have finally found someone who laughs at his jokes. And good luck does not end there. Where did I read that most one night stands occur during Christmas eve dates? It will be a dinner date and given the number of interpretations about dinners, I suggest holding back the oysters.

What do men consider foreplay? Buying dinner.
~ Cindy Garner

He has been looking for love in all the Wrong places. And now Love has found him in the Wrong place. Everything seems so perfect and right but I can never shake off Murphy's Law which resides always at the back of my mind.

There are so many questions to be asked. What if she is a psycho? What if she is just treating him like a rebound? What if she just needs a guy to go out with and carry her shopping bag? What if she just needs someone to pay for that expensive dinner? What if she has not been a "she" all her life? What if all she wanted was his body? What if she is not truly interested in him but derives a sick and perverse satisfaction from adding notches to her bedposts? What if the light at the end of the tunnel was really a red light to warn unsuspecting victims and my friend, who happens to be medically certified colourblind stumbles into a web of deceit and lies? Will this be the story which Sex, Lies and Masking Tape will be based on?

So many questions asked and so little answers given. Sometimes, for the important questions, one should direct them to the person who brought one into the world. And I do not mean God.

Mother, you who conceived without sinning, teach me how to sin without conceiving.
~ Katia Yaksic

It has been a rough year and we look to ending this one with a bang and start the next afresh. Maybe once in a while, we can throw caution to the winds, and leave these questions and doubts behind as we embark on a new journey... it is, after all, a brand new year.

Even though, it is the same old people...

 
"To know you is to love you"
Madonna
Beautiful Stranger

I often wondered what it meant by to know god. What if I know god and is convinced of his existence yet I do not love him? What if I believe in his existence, yet through a lack of understanding of his rationale and logic feel an utter disgust towards him? What if I believe that he is omnibenovelent yet believes that he is wrong? What if he is whatever the bible claims him to be, yet he still leaves a bad taste in my mouth?

Knowing a person, trusting a person and understanding a person do not equate to loving a person. I cannot control my own heart as I can control my hands. That applies my ability to love some human beings and that applies to, god. And if I do not love a god is omniscient and is always right, does that make me wrong?

I do not think so.

 
The freedom that comes from true friendship is one that springs from the fact that they are always at arm's length and yet always within reach. I have the freedom to dance and when I fall (and I will fall), I will always have someone to hold on to.

This, should be the foundation of any deeper relationships.

 
True friends are like shit. They do not have to be pretty, but they allow me to grow and blossom.

 
I am down.

I am so freaking down with a fucking throat infection. I have got work to do, I have got stuff to clear, I have got people to meet, I have got friends to torture and I have got a strict training schedule to adhere to...

And of all the things that could happen, this? I suppose there are worse things that could happen....

But still, this?

 
I suppose since everyone is putting this up, I should do the same, in case I incur the wrath of the masses.

Just 3 more days to Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

Sometimes, I have a feeling that people who are obsessed with the Lord of the Rings trilogy have no idea what we do in our AD&D sessions. Compared with what we used to do every week, what is on the big screen will put you to sleep.

 
A particular girl whom I spoke to at a wedding dinner obviously held strong views against the guys from the other top secondary schools. But when it came to Catholic High, she holds the belief that together with Maris Stella, we housed half the potential nutcases of Singapore.

The impression that we gave her was that we can be the most creative, imprudent and unpredictable mad men. And she may not be wrong, after all, our secondary school days were marked by chaos, anarchy, elaborate pranks and relentless attempts to find the cure to the most delibilitating disease of all: boredom.

I was always proud of the fact that Catholic High is always a melting pot of cultures, languages and ideas. The product, however, after the synthesis of the good, the bad and the confused, is often a bunch of crazy guys with endless supply of mindboggling, ludicrous ideas.

Where will the world be without them?

 
"Anger is too strong an emotion for my frail constitution."

I think I have uttered those words somewhere in the past. As time mellows us all, we consider anger a thing of a distant past. But strong emotions still plague us, only under the guise of reasons and excuses through justification and rationalization.

Raw emotions and desires like jealousy, grief and vengefulness are still very much present in many of our lives. And on a relative level, their destructive powers make anger seems like the domain of the children and the impotent. Their hold can come close to absolute and their reach all encompassing.

Vengefulness often take the form of self righteousness. Jealousy often take the form of egoistical, paternalistic actions. And people who are most susceptible to them are the ones with the most "reasons" to do the things they do, to hurt the people they hurt and to destroy the things they destroy.

We grow out of anger, but not always out of jealousy.

We often have the desire to act, then find reasons to do so before we do, but fail to understand that we often do not have morally justifiable reasons that can stand up to scrutiny for feeling the way we do.

Find not the reasons to act.

Find the reasons why we feel how we feel.

Honesty to oneself, first and foremost.

 
"Men will lie to you. Your eyes will deceive you. Steel never lies, nor deceives, nor hides bitter reality. In the sword, you find the truth."

Kakita Toshimoko
The Sword
Legend of the Five Rings

 
Horoscope for Aquarius

There's no such thing as a simple disagreement. The longer people know each other, the more tangled their historical roots get. Even if you resolved a big fight with a friend or family member years ago, both of you can still hear the echoes in each small discord of your maturing relationship. This is why you like to solve strangers' problems for them. If you can follow a polluted stream far enough back, you'll eventually find what's fouling the waters. The big question is how badly the person who sent you on this mission really wants the answer.

It effectively means that if I solve my own problems, I will not, due to my personal inadequacies, be bothered to be so helpful to strangers anymore. I suppose it is time to swim upstream to see which American MNC is dumping toxic wastes into my river of dreams.

Onward to apathy land...

 
Roleplaying Games

When feelings change, roles will change and duties will change. When roles and duties change and feelings remain; there will be pain.

Roles are rules of engagement and descriptions of acceptable behaviour. Roles define how two particular persons should relate to each other. They are about duties, obligations and claims between one another.

It is independent of your feelings.

And when your feelings cannot be contained by the rules and description, there will be a mild discomfort. Often, feelings cannot accept the role that you are assigned. And more common, is that there is little you can do to change it.

But it is strange, is it not, to say that feelings can be boxed in by regulations? After all, roles define actions, not feelings. There should be little reason, if at all, why anyone should feel emotionally strangulated by their role and place. Feelings, after all, are used to unregulated freedom.

The beauty of role playing is that we all take turns in each other's shoes. And it is simply a matter of time till we are each tried by fire.

"Mother, daughter, sister, lover,
One day soon you'll be one or the other,
You'll offer forgiveness, my savior, my sinner,
And then you will see that the circle begins here with...
Mother, daughter, sister, lover,
Father, and son, brother, lover

One day soon you'll be one or the other.
And you'll see that the circle begins here with...me

We can grow together
We can walk together
We can laugh, we can
Cry together
Mother, daughter,
Sister, lover
Father, and son,
Brother, lover
One day soon
I'll discover
What will be...
One or the other"

Billie Myers
Growing, Pains
Mother, Daughter, Sister, Lover

 
Nothing is as painful as watching an attempt to be creative.

It is an understatement to say that Singaporeans are not the most creative of people. During a course on effective presentation and impactful opening, we are split into groups to come up with an effective opening in 30 minutes. Limited time and limited minds do little to help.

Perhaps the only pragmatic aspect about me is my deep belief in substance over presentation, function over form. Perhaps it is logical to say that you cannot be creative about substance if you do not have it at all.

When people want to be creative about something when they are hardly even capable of synthesis of ideas, and when they want to package something they know precious little about, the process of creation gets really "innovative".

How do you react when the physical incarnation of superficiality is breathing in front of you and staring at you in your face? You turn away before you are charged with murder.

 
I have attended 2 wedding dinners in 2 weeks, and I found out from the other guests around the table, that I should be consider myself lucky to just have 2 invitations. Apparently the table was full of casualties of the year-end death rain of wedding invitations.

For the more reticent, sitting through a dinner at a table full of strangers might prove to be a harrowing experience. The stress of being at a table of nine fresh faces will be enough to affect their delicate stomach.

But my personal experiences in the past fortnight have been testimonials to the contrary. Far from being stressful or tense, the dinner experiences were in fact quite enjoyable.

To help fellow readers make the most of their monetary contribution to the dinner, I sifted through the details of the experience and the thought processes which I underwent during the dinner and consolidated what would be the finer points to note during wedding banquets, in hope of saving their appetite.

And here I present to you, the result of days of deep meditation:

The Survival Guide to Wedding Banquets

Apparently we are all present because of a few common factors listed below. And it will only be to our advantage should we use them to relate to our fellow diners.

One, either the bride or groom thinks that we are his/her good friends.
Two, we all have nothing better to do on a Sunday night.
Three, we are all hungry people waiting for food.
Four, we are all veterans at wedding dinners.

As such, below are a few topics for conversation:

One, suggest constructive things that we can do on Sunday nights without wedding dinners.
Two, exchange stories of bankruptcies caused by wide social circles.
Three, amuse everyone with the simple game of dropping names of 90% of the hotels in Singapore and compare the quality of food, of service, of ambience and number of cute waiters at the banquet. Feel free to extent the list to hotels in Shanghai, Beijing, Kuala Lumpur or other exotic locations.
Four, brainstorm for creative metaphors and images for hunger, starvation and disgruntled customers.
Five(for the grandmasters only) do a longitudinal comparison of the quality of food in the banquet they had in the same hotel last week and the quality of food in the present banquet.
Six, gossip about the idiosyncrasies and the quirks of the bride, groom or both.
Seven, (optional) talk about the positive characteristics of the bride, groom or both.

To conclude, often it is perceived differences that exist between individuals. Deep down, we are all the same... hungry and bored people without a life. So think not of them as strangers, but as fellow sentient beings capable of feeling the way you are.

 
My mum threw my brother's new red shirt into the washing machine together with gym load and I am now holding onto a sleeveless pink Nike and pink underwear. The Nike is still acceptable, but the sexy, pastel underwear is not.

At least, not in gym...

 
Flat abdominals and six-packs have gained more publicity in the past one year than in decades. Women are now obsessed with acquiring and maintaining a flat stomach and men, are now socially compelled to lose weight.

Women tend to be fighting an uphill battle. Their genetic make up with the propensity to accumulate fats and retain water in unsightly areas are odds stacked heavily against their them.

Men, usually endowed with a higher metabolic rate, on the other hand, might be considered luckier. But due to lack of exercise, unhealthy eating habits and the slowing down of metabolic rate as age increases, men tend to put on bulk after they start working.

Most fashion trends are unfair towards the heavier end of our population. But this obsession with tanned complexion and flat abdominals might be the healthiest trend yet.

 
Besides the halls housing the Singapore IT EXhibition 2003 was a fair featuring products targetted at households and families.

Health products, vacuum cleaners, food products, seasonings, spices were just some of the products featured. The design of most booths were spartan and functional, but a few were particularly extravagant.

Prudential had the most outstanding booth. It was of a moderate size located in the middle of the hall, with a pretty conservative design and simple decorations. It was pretty much devoid of eye catching colours, the only thing that drew attention would probably be the female agents, for the adults, that is.

But for the kids, the booth is a dream come true. Located in the middle of the booth, between the tables and the simple, earthy shades was a sand bar. It would have been easy to miss if there were no dirty, noisy, irritating, obnoxious, hysterical, slimy little kids throwing sand around since it is blocked from sight by the human traffic and the furnitures. A few feet away was a small section sealed off by low fences. Within the enclosure were chicks (young chickens), which surprisingly did not attract as much attention as the sand.

The theme of the day was: life insurance and the study saving plan.

The kids were happily playing with sand while all around them, their parents were being slaughtered and hacked to bits by the insurance agents. I had the mental image of the beach landing scene in Saving Private Ryan with the kids playing with the sand, building castles and throwing plastic spades, oblivious to their parents getting shot down, having limbs blown off and getting blown up by evil capitalist and mercenary agents.

When they grow up, they might not even remember what happened that day. When they grow up, they might not even be grateful. And from the way things are going, when they grow up, they might not know anything.

So of what price is the next generation worth?

Of what price is hope worth?

 
Sometimes watching young couples cuddling or holding hands can get me rather self conscious. The saccharine scene is not offensive, but it brings to my mind, my personal need for space.

I am a person who really requires a wide berth. I cannot really think clearly when I am hugging someone or holding someone's hands. Clear thoughts, like the weaving of magical spells, requires articulation and gesticulation.

The freedom of thought requires the freedom of the body. I cannot wave my hands in the air with someone holding it, I cannot shift myself when my legs have been put to sleep by someone who has chosen to use it as a pillow.

The feeling is that of suffocation and claustrophobia. Under these conditions, no one can be comfortable. It stifles me too much for any incubation of thoughts. How then can these youngsters think when they spend hours cuddling?

On second thoughts, maybe they do not...

 
"From the 18th century onwards, it is no longer from the practice of community but from being a wanderer that the instinct of fellow-feeling is derived. Thus an essential isolation and silence and loneliness become the carriers of nature and community against the rigours, the cold abstinence, the selfish ease of ordinary society."

Raymond Williams
The Country and the City

The world without strangers, would be a sad place.

It can be liberating as one sail through a sea of unfamiliar faces with nothing to remind one of anything joyous or sad, no one to invoke haunting floods of images which seek to overwhelm one . There is nothing here but people, who like leaves being ripped away in the wind, hurtle away from me as one walk.

A leisurely walk with no one to follow, and no one trailing, is a joy on its own. Surroundings seemed alive and vibrant with the new found freedom, and the sights and sounds seemed so much richer and more palatable.

I have always found it amusing to watch people walk past me as if I have never existed. So absorbed in their own activities and lives, the rest of the world fades away. The best way to stay unnoticed by people is surprisingly, among people. No one bothers and no one cares. The only person who notices me, is me.

And during that momentary invisibility, I can be me.

 
"When you are young, you do not realize, but as you get older, you find it harder and harder to keep your promises."

I have been warned.

Human beings may be the only creatures on this earth that can be truly of time, therefore may be the only animals capable of understanding the abstract concepts of past, present and the future.

Thus, it follows that only human beings finds meaning in making promises, keeping promises and breaking them. It is not a habit that I hold people to their promises, it is natural for me to remember them, but unnatural to expect them to live up to their words.

Maybe I have learnt to view others as events.

You may find it dehumanizing. But death is an event, living is a process, the past is history, the future has yet to happen, and your stumbling into my life is an accident.

Life, yours or mine, is a series of events. And...

My promise to you is... an event in the Will Be.

My promise to you is... a bookmark placed in the later pages of your tome.

My promise to you is... a hurled pebble to create a ripple upstream in the river of time.

My promise to you is... an attempt to give you an insignificant sense of predictability in Change.

My promise to you is... a post dated cheque for all that you have done for me.

My promise to you is... a credit note from a stranger to a stranger.

My promise to you is... my futile attempt at clinging on to the past.

My promise to you is... a reminder for me to look back.

My promise to you is... a hope that the fulfilment can invoke memories to bring a shred of warmth to my tired eyes.

My promise to you is... never about you.

My promise to you is... always about me.

My promise to you is... simply a promise to myself about you.

 
It was at Singapore IT EXhibition 2003 when I finally made contact with the Panasonic X70.

Bluetooth
65K colours
Camera with Flash
Featherweight
Infra Red
GPRS enabled
Tri band

Holding tomorrow in your hands is indescribable.

 
Hits and Misses

My friend messaged me: Hey... what is so good about basketball?

I replied: Everything. It is better than sex.

She did not replied to that message.... I suppose I lost the chance to shag her.

Oh well... I still got my ball.

 
The Celebration of Bastardhood

With reference to a recent post by a friend on his blog, it said that a friend of ours has finally taken a step towards bastardhood. From a person without character, without attitude, without assertiveness, he has turned into...

Well...

I am not sure what he turned into, if he can turned into anything at all. If there is no attitude, no position, no assertion, no character, no aggression, no drive... whatever is left is...

Let us just say that is not much to work on.

I mean, you have to have raw materials to turn into something, right? There are few flaws, but few strengths as well. It is hard to pin any descriptions or names on him so hard that sometimes, even gender stereotypes fail to apply. So for the purpose of this discussion, we will call him nameless.

On the blog post, it is said that nameless has taken a step towards bastardhood. A step cannot be said to be an improvement, he is getting somewhere; but where, I do not know. And probably neither does he.

If bastardhood is a step towards assertiveness and building an identity or character, perhaps it would be an interesting phenomenon. But as with all moulding of gello and playdoh into any semblance of objects, it will be messy.

In steady and skillful hands, playdoh can be a figurine or an animal, or anything you want. In the hands of the inept, a crescent moon will look like.... something obscene.

In any case, nameless was encouraged to drop his gentlemanliness and decency to be a bastard, both of which I feel, are not mutually exclusive with bastardhood.

After all, we can be gentlemanly, decent and be still a bastard.

As they unleash nameless on the world, let us remember the lesson learnt when Stone Cold Steve Austin released Kane back into the world.

This time, there may be no Undertaker to save their asses.

 
To you, I am:
- destiny
- a coincidence
- luck
- an accident
- a misfortune
- retribution
- a quirk
- a force of nature
- an illusion
- a stranger
- karma
- a shadow
- fate
- a probability
- an anormaly
- change

To you, I am an event.

To you, I am the wind.

To me, I am neither:
- a smile
- a grimace
- a grin
- a frown

To me, I am simply the expression between expressions.

 
My friend asked, "Do you want to be Jesus Christ?"

And I shook my head and thought to myself, "He had the easy way out, all He was required to do was to die. I am required to stay alive and live the consequences."

 
I cannot bring myself to blame anyone who seeks their own happiness. I cannot bring myself to blame someone who wants a better life. I cannot bring myself to blame people for making mistakes in a moment of folly. I cannot bring myself to blame someone who made the same mistake twice in moments of folly. I cannot bring myself to blame someone for believing that they deserve to get back what they have lost.

I cannot bring myself to blame people for a lot of things. I sincerely believe that people have the right to pursue their own happiness. And there is little in terms of right and wrong in wanting a better life. And one cannot be faulted if one wants to improve his lot.

But in doing so, please leave me alone. I am in no position to give or promise anyone a better life. Happiness comes only with courage and prudence. But it can only be captured by contentment.

And none of that, I can give you.

 
Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas is... a pair of boots re-defines luxury and indulgence. It should set new standards for the word overkill. The boots should have the following features:

Waterproof
Insulated
Slip Resistant
Electrical Hazard Resistant
Puncture Resistant
Steel Toe
Metatarsal Guard
Static Dissipative


Such perfect equipment does exist and Santa, you should get a pair too.

 
I have a strong hunch that few of us are made for the life that we are given. Everytime we are settled into a state of comfort, we found ourselves thrown into alien and often difficult circumstances which none of our prior presumptions hold. Despite the popular beliefs that human suffering is due to the infinite human desires, much of it is due to the infinite challenges and expectations that present themselves ever so often.

Just when we are getting used to being a child, just when we thought that we are getting so good at being one, we are no longer. We are suddenly teenagers, expected to be one without being told how. Our past behaviours are deemed shameful by new standards imposed set when the clocked struck twelve last night. The apple of the eye, the fairytale princess and the prince charming all suffered an unfortunate fall from grace. Alas, how fickle the human heart... the only thing worth capturing and living for continues to evade us.

How so many would love to remain a child, to remained loved, pampered and nurtured!

Years ago, I had the power to make the very life of the person who betrayed me a living hell. I did not. Half a year ago, it fell on my shoulders to save the job of a guy whom I met but once. I spent two sleepless nights trying to balance his livelihood against the jobs of many others which might be jeopardized should I help. And just when I am learning how to be a son, after spending years learning to be a friend, I have been called to save a friend from bankruptcy.

So I am often caught in the position to save people, so what? I did not ask for this power; I do not want to be anybody's saviour; and I do not want to make these difficult decisions.

Give this fate to someone who crave for it. I do not want it.

What I really want, is a little peace, a little space, a little time and a little extra cash to read my books, write my prose and paint my canvas. All I ask for, is to be left alone. I tire of being responsible, for the things I did and I did not; for myself; for others.

Just leave me alone, please...

"C*** P****, if we pull through this time, you will have to control me, because I cannot control myself."

As it is, my life is out of my own control, what would I want to control anyone else for? What good is a life that cannot control itself be to me? What would I want someone else's life for?

I cannot see past the next hour. And I am asked to bear a $60,000 debt that is not mine for at least half a year (in favourable circumstances) and what seems to be a lifetime, if things do not turn out as expected.

Should I seek the counsel of the fortune teller? Some versions of history had it that Sun Ce had a prominent msytic put to death because he was unable to summon the rain as promised. I hate fate and I plan to slay my very own...

I do not want to start with her.

 
Something troubling happened last night.

I cut short my dinner with Ling and my parents last night and rushed to meet a friend of mine after receiving 2 SMSes. He told me that he is in deep shit and asked me to meet him in Takashimaya.

I came to a dejected looking him, with a file at his side and a calculator on his table. There was a weak smile and a confession that he lost the money that was meant to buy products for the customers in stocks. He asked me if I had guessed it.

I did.

Half of the total amount was lost, which is close to $60,000. I expected a loss, but not the extent of damage. And I asked if my share of profit, about $17,000, could help.

"There is nothing left, C*** P****, there is nothing left, I used up all of it."

I was calm. Money, was never that important to me, and I hope will never be. And if I lost much, he lost more. I did not blame him, raise my voice or scold him. All that seemed so futile.

Anger was too strong an emotion for me. Disappointment sets in later.

All I felt then was a need to solve this problem of ours. I just felt that I am in it with him, even though the mistake was his. From a business perspective, I am confident that I can come out on my own and do a better job. But I am not sure if my conscience will allow that.

I do not think so.

He told me that, if we survive this, to control him, because he cannot control himself. He is always chasing that quick buck and taking a gamble. I suppose he lost big, bigger than the $40,000 loss a few years back. This business venture was to help him repay his debts.

And I thought he would have learnt his lesson.

Over lunch a couple of hours ago, he said that the total in loss is $80,000, but only $60,000 is required to repay the customer. And asked if I can help. I can, but everyone I know asked me to steer clear of him. My parents do not know about this, it is best that they do not.

He posed a rather strange question to me though. He had many times before, asked me to meet his fortune teller who was extremely accurate. The fortune teller was supposed to be rather famous, so much so that that appointments have to be made just to see her. But I have rejected him every time. He asked me why I refused, and whether I am curious.

Frankly, I am not sure why. I am curious, extremely so. But I can remember my late grandmother telling me that my grandfather, whom I have never met, believed that only those down on luck wanted to know their fortunes.

I suppose in this case, it is all the more true.

But I fear knowing my future more. It is easier to live day by day rather than to see so far ahead. As it is, I am already extremely pessimistic regarding the future. I simply told him that I need not know, because I am contented. And he agreed. Temptations cannot shake those who are grateful. Contentment and gratitude are things he had to learn.

Experience is a good teacher, but its lessons are expensive.

It matters little who did wrong, or what he did, but rather what is to be done. In fact, we spent a large amount of time looking at each other in silence. Reality leaves so little for imagination. The corner leaves so little room for thought. He has decided his past, but his future is as open as mine. And my future will be decided by how far I am willing to go for him.

I have my duties, my obligations. Just how far can I go...

 
The government has plans for each and every piece of land in this country. But for its people, they have been less attentive. Unlike the land, most of us have no clue as to where we fit in. Being free means that you have to decide what you want to do, even though you have nothing to do.

The field from which I watched the lunar eclipse is no longer; having replaced by new condominiums separated from the world by walls and gates. This country is always in the state of metamorphosis. Travel across half its breadth and lose count of the number construction projects in progress. Nothing is as we remembered anymore.

It did not seem too long ago when I was there watching the lunar eclipse, lying alone in that expansive field; thinking things that are no longer relevant. She is back on a more permanent basis and it seemed like yesterday when we used to talk every night and every day, of everything that mattered and everything that did not.

But it has been 3 Melbourne winters since we were last so carefree with each other. And it has been 3 Melbourne summers of silence. Nothing is as we remembered anymore.

Yet everything feels still so familiar.

Three years of silence and of absence… the mind should have filled it up with angry words and adjectives; reality should have filled it up with facts and happenings. But nothing… my initial search turned out blank.

But there should be and there were words, phrases, adjectives, facts, acts and happenings. I have graduated, found a job, passed my graduate diploma course, changed my job, and done so much more, so much more… Wars have been fought, innocents died, and the world has been made to swallow a load of propagandistic crap…

Yet none of it was registered in my cursory introspective search.

So through the method of elimination, am I to derive what really matters? And what truly mattered is what happened between us?

Billie Myers still sounds as world weary as three years before when her words sounded so true and appropriate, and Tracy Chapman has not lost that sorrow in her voice. Some things did happen and some things did not; regardless if I remember.

But everything still feels so… indescribable. Memories are indescribable. The heat is no longer searing, and the cold not biting. Yet there is that ever so familiar tingling on the skin to remind us of the warmth of a hug and the cold of early winter.

It just felt like bells ringing drawn by heartstrings extending back through time.

Things did change. I did not have skip through the past three years as I did through the first twenty three. Life is a lot more self-directed now. One cannot be burdened by the weight of the past if one is to fly. In my pursuit to overcome myself, these memories assumed a different purpose.

The past is but a reference point, not the destination. I do not harbour any hopes that things can be back to what they were. Neither do I desire them to be.

Things are not as we remembered. They need not be... but at least they are fine now.

Welcome back, dear friend.

 

you're fuck.


What swear word are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

 
Friday night: Gym.

Saturday morning: Basketball

Saturday afternoon: Badminton

Saturday night: Leg cramp during dinner

Sunday morning: Basketball

Sunday afternoon: Abdominal cramp when I sneezed.

They said exercise is good for the body, but I think I might be pushing things a little too far.

 
Matrix: Revolutions

Hollywood did it again. It has turned a perfectly wonderful story into a total disaster.

Matrix was at its best, barely acceptable.

Matrix: Reloaded was full of pseudo-intellectual statments that made little sense.

Matrix: Revolutions was a patchwork of half-hearted attempts at being philosophical and glaringly obvious stereotypes.

Matrix was doomed to failure from the beginning, having to develop a plot similar to its prodigious precedents: Dark City and The Truman Show. It is true that the Matrix has wonderful graphics on its side, but it does little to cover its inflated, hollowed out core. The presentation of it was hardly palatable, let alone gripping. If it meant to question the nature of reality, phenomenologically or socially, then it failed to tastefully address the most basic of the issues. If it meant to query the nature of human identity or the relationship between the self and the world, then it again failed again to ask the critical questions. With respects to the depth of the movie, it did not even come close to Dark City and The Truman Show.

Matrix: Reloaded has the best graphics of the three but the worse plot presentation and development. The curse of stereotyping was never more apparent than with the appearance of The Architect (aka. Colonel Sanders). It was a sudden end to the what was fast paced action; and also the end of the audience's patience. Momentum stopped short and never went again.

Matrix: Revolutions turned out to be a more entertaining movie experience for my mates and I. We could not helped but laugh at the failed attempt for the show to be serious. More stereotyping followed. The point of asking Indians to talk about Karma (the law of cause and effect) was to get foreigners to introduce foreign concepts to the viewers. It was to create a sense of wonder and play on their obsession with asian exoticism.

The same thing, in plain, simple English is called causality (which is a technical term, philosophically). But to call it so, would allow everyone to understand it, would it not? And then movie would seemed really, really shallow...

There is really no good need for using an Indian, after all if Schopenhauer translated Indian philosophical works over a century ago, an Englishman or French can play the part and still look natural. The only problem is that it would have made the white audience felt really stupid.

In a strict sense, causality has been shown to be problematic by Hume since over a century ago, something which Buddhism did, only thousands of years earlier. Thus, Buddhism does not truly advocate cause and effect, contrary to popular beliefs. For further reference, please refer to Verses From The Centre by Stephen Bachelor.

All the flaws, topped with a record long Trinity death scene was enough to have most of my mates asking for mercy.

I suppose what I really wanted to see was really difficult. I was hoping to see Neo and Smith tumbling around, slugging it out on the grass plains, with the warm morning sun rising and Bambi and Thumper skipping about happily. After all, there really is no need to waste all that water on making the rain....

Stereotypes, cliches and non-original plot marked the trilogy as a failure.

 
I was at the gym when I ran into a guy whom I have always exchanged greetings with, yet never got to speak to at lengths. He is an extremely friendly man, and he had, in the past, gave me a few training tips.

Last night, unlike the usual, I was alone. So we had a chat. It was more like series of quick questions about my training schedule and my diet. We planned to maybe train together, as I figured that I need help on the heavier weights. Conversation took on more of a casual nature, and he asked if I swim or my preferences for beer, red wine or white wine. He told me that I am welcomed to drop by his place if I ever felt like having a swim or wine.

My friend asked me if he is gay.

There are two possibilities: One, he is gay; the other, he is not. And I have quite a knack for attracting all the weird people. Both possibilities being very real, it does not equate that they being gay will bring harm to me, or that they being straight will not. Often, our fears are series of loosely, irrational associations.

Is it right to cast suspicion over the goodwill of others? Should we live in fear? Do we want to?

Weeks ago, my ex-girlfriend and I were waiting for our buses at Bishan bus interchange. After minutes of waiting, I noticed on the signboard that the last bus for me had already left. A young girl about the age of fifteen, oblivious to the fact, was the only other figure behind me in the queue.

I approached her to tell her that the bus had left, she looked a little shocked. Teenagers her age, have limited income and paying for the cab fare home might be a little heavy for her. She lives at Serangoon Central which is technically within walking distance. The journey would be about 5km; roughly the usual distance for my past jogs. A brisk walk will only take her about 40 minutes or so. However, I offered to send her home on cab, the condition being that I have to wait for my ex-girlfriend to board her bus first.

To show that I meant her no harm, I proposed that she take the front seat. After being given the directions, the cab driver asked me why we are not sitting together. I told him that I do not know her.

I still do not know her name, and I do not need to.

I wanted to drop her off near my place and ask her to walk home, which is only 2 stops away, but she complained that it was too far away.

Kids nowadays…

In any case, would it not be sad if none of us trust each other? Some say that trust is earned. But I trust because…

”Because I choose to.”
Keanu Reeves as Neo
Matrix Revolutions

I quote the Matrix Revolutions because it is appropriate for this situation, not because I like it. In fact, I hate it.

 
It came as a surprise when I came across an article on how universities in the states refuse to hire their own graduates; a phenomenon I thought was exclusive to Singapore.

It is well known that there is a class distinction between universities in the states, but it seems that less than 2% of the universities hire their own graduates. In Singapore, the unspoken assumption was that intellectual inbreeding will bring about an entire campus of idiots.

Their belief is totally unfounded.

For as far as many are concerned, the campus are crawling with idiots as it is.

We got to be realistic. The output depends heavily on the input. No one has and probably no one will ever think of NUS, NTU or SMU as a value-added institutions. But I will keep my disparaging remarks on the education system to myself for the time being.

I quote the blog entry:

Schools on the lower end of the prestige scale seem to abhor their own graduates, which says a lot about what they think of their own training programs.

Universities should not be ashamed of their training or their own graduates. If you can't drink the water your own well pumps out, why serve it to your neighbors?

 
Power is nothing without control.

Uncontrolled actions, unbridled power will only bring about unintended destruction or consequences. Even in gym, workouts must be carried out in a controlled manner. There will be no swinging of weights, no jerking motions and no sudden, wild movements.

But, I, in my frivolous moods, often leave this cautionary note behind in the gym, even though it has caused me so much trouble. There are a few incidences which I can remember:

1. Spilling my glass of water over my keyboard, which caused me to remove every key to clean out the spill.

2. Overturning my 1.5L water bottle in my room, and soaking half of the accumulated newspapers on my floor.

3. Knocking into a guy in arts canteen and spilling coffee all over him. He was middle-aged, obnoxious and obviously from the law faculty, as he, after the expletives he uttered, asked if I wanted to be sued. It was then when my guilt flew out the window, and I was about to give him a few more reasons to sue me; reasons like: causing bodily harm, causing grievous bodily injuries and manslaughter.

But it was a recent incident that is a lot more serious. After closing my locker door, I turned, ready to head for the showers, and my hand kind of lightly slapped the outer (this is important, I emphasize the word: outer as opposed to inner) thigh of a naked guy besides me.

He stared at me.

I averted my eyes and muttered some apologies. At this point, it is inconvenient to look him in the eyes or for that matter, any other parts of his body when I apologize. I hurriedly headed for the showers and the incident ended there.

On retrospect, it is more dangerous to hit a guy's butt rather than their girlfriend's butt.

If you slap their girlfriend's butt, you are giving the guy a chance, a real life opportunity and avenue to exhibit his long repressed machismo; without which the only other opportunity in which he can impress his girl might be during the weekly Counter-Strike sessions with his mates which he had begged them to lose.

With such considerations in mind, he will probably secretly harbour gratitude, thus be more likely to be lenient in his encounter with you. It will be probably be a case of stern (of all the sternness he can muster, at this point, for personal safety, it is imperative not to smile or laugh) warning, or in extreme cases, a few punches and kicks. The blows will likely be pulled and damage be further reduced if you can put up Oscar winning performances of pains, grimaces, complete with realistic, stereo groans and moans. (Note: additional points will be awarded to those who can spit blood on demand)

But if you (assuming you are a guy) hit a guy on his naked butt, it would be a totally different scenario. It will be personal. It will be rough. It will be seen as a direct blow to their ego. (Note: I am not implying in any way that the ego resides in the gluteus maximus. Such a statement would cause Freud to leap from his grave; an event I am not too keen to initiate. The world had enough of him as it is)

It will result in severe repercussions.

Since the slap on the butt is considered a direct attack on his manhood, even though the manhood in front of the butt itself, it will not be taken likely. Be sure that pain and suffering will follow.

Results are not likely to differ even if the other guy smiles and winks at you.

 
The perfect christmas gift for every car owner would be 04 wheel clamps.

In the case of an emergency, these drivers can then park their cars where and when they desire.

I would love to see someone clamp a wheel clamp.

 
There was a post in which I said that life without growth is death; stagnated existence without growth is not worth continuing. For the past few days, I have been wondering from where I derived that conclusion.

It is probably, on hindsight, a statement made out of my disappointment with the people around me. I choose my company carefully, for there were too many people that vexed me tremendously.

I know people who professed to be poor and thrifty, yet change two cars in two years. I know people who lies to everyone, including themselves. (And these people excludes the category of bosses, who are by definition, idiots)

I know primary school teachers who do not know the rough equivalent in centimetres, of an inch or a foot. And they are the ones who will shape the future of our nation.

I know christians who call themselves devout, yet know precious little about the bible. And these are the ones who are persuading me to attend church services. When I questioned them and pointed to so many instances where they have failed in duties of a christian, they resorted to their unjustified belief their omnipotent God will know that in their hearts they are devout and they will be saved, as if they can read (although some said that they can feel Him) God's mind. They obviously believe in salvation by grace, since they know precious little about salvation by deed and grace.

I told them that they will probably not be saved. And that kind of disturbed them a little. They called me prideful for putting me limited self in the place of God.

And I am arrogant.

I will judge whoever I wish to and I will judge God if it pleases me. He gave me free will and I will use it.

And I, in turn, welcome anyone to judge me.

But if they are saved, then God, in His infinite wisdom and patience, has a high tolerance for the sin of Sloth. And I might one day, finally humble myself before him.

That being said, I am still disappointed.

But I am questioning the place of growth in my life. It is now, of primary importance. I want to grow, and I am prompted to grow, in reaction to these people around me. I fear my own complacency.

I read, I write, I go to the gym, I take up classes, I am planning for my second degree, I challenge, I invite challenges just to grow. But am I doing these for love or for fear of mental, emotional and psychological death?

I live for love and passion.

But I fear, that as I grow stronger and faster, I distance myself from my loved ones. The day might come when the winds gather beneath my wings, and I need to unroot myself from the loving earth that nurtured me to fly the skies...

 
Someone jotted down the characteristics of what quality journalism is. It was quite an extensive list, but here are two which struck a chord in me:

Journalism does not seek to be objective but rather to make its inherent biases and perspectives clear so that readers can make choices on their own.

It seeks to find the widest useful context for the events that occur in our world each day. It attempts to explain those events within that context.

It is rare that a person who writes or speaks will list down his/her own inherent assumptions. Communication is seldom just a transmission of information, it is persuasion or manipulation. People with the gift of gab or the gift of language can be extremely influential.

It is power.

And with all powers, it takes a rare breed of men and women not to abuse them.

 
A few Saturdays back, I had a friendly argument with the cab driver on my way to SIM.

It seemed that revealing my schooling in philosophy is often an invitation to a discussion or a debate or an interview. People would be asking me about anything and everything and in most cases, I do welcome a dialogue.

But one question I have always found difficult to answer was what I can do with my degree. It is most irritating to admit that philosophers are in a way, irrelevant to the economy and the profit margin.

We spoke extensively about the economy that day. A natural choice since there is almost no escaping the recession. It is a worldwide phenomenon which has devoured everyone and almost everything.

My point was that the present economic model cannot be sustained. I am watching and waiting, for the birth of a new idea; an idea that will bring about a change in the mode of production; an idea that will signify the birth of a new economic model; an idea that will transfer the power from MNCs back to the nations and the states; an idea that will reduce the gross inequality that separates the rich from the poor.

"(ideas) are more powerful than is commonly understood. Indeed, the world is ruled by little else. Madmen in authority, who hear voices in the air, are distilling their frenzy from some academics scribblers of a few years back... Sooner or later it is ideas, not vested interests, which are dangerous for good or evil."
John Maynard Keynes
General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money

And although the cab driver disagreed, in a sense, he too, was waiting for an idea, for an idea that will change the individuals; for an idea that will inspire in individuals the care, the concern and the responsibility for fellow human beings. Change, he firmly believes will have to come from within; from individuals.

"It would be a lovely idea!"
- Mahatma Gandhi on democracy

He believes that individuals make up the society; thus they are both the problem and the solution. To him, the human condition is the true root of the suffering and the system, a mere inconvenience.

And it might be true. If individuals can truly and intimately grasp the nature of interdependency of their existence, then maybe we might be inclined to be more generous towards the faults, the flaws and the weaknesses of others.

To understand how we are all connected through a long chain of events, simply look at the implications of globalization. Globalization is a phenomenon that has been glamourized and sensationalized, so much so that we generally forget that there are people paying the price for our affluence.

Understood properly, globalization means that if someone in India dies of hunger and poverty, we all have blood on our hands.

Personally, I have my doubts on the efficiency of improving the whole through the changing individuals. Just as social workers or the MCDS can do little to affect the economic decisions or the distribution of resources of the state, social cohesiveness is of little consequence against the all pervasive force of the MNCs. They can slightly alleviate the pain and pressure but can really do little more.

In any case, not all are ready to be responsible to others. John Nash, was one of the few who were close to taking up the responsibility. He had in the heights of his schizophrenia, reportedly seeked to renounce his American citizenship, to be a citizen of the world.

Also note that companies are considered persons from the legal perspectives; complete with rights; responsibilities and entitlement. It is remarkable how similar a company is treated to a real person. It can sue; can be sued, be made liable or responsible for damages and it can speak of its own interests and its own survival almost as if it is alive and thinking.

Traditionally, the idea of survival is used on human beings and animals. And from my understanding, it never popularly used till the world wars to justify the engagement and the killing.

Now, it is used by companies to justify the exploitation of others.

Our conversation came to an end when we reached our destination. I paid him for his services and he gave me a discount for the conversation.

That day, two perspectives met on a journey.

That day, two persons met on a cab.

Both were waiting for the birth of an idea.

 
The wonders of mass messaging cannot be explained.

I dropped Glenn a SMS asking him what the doc said during Friday's check up: Just wondering what did your doc say?

As things went, my thumb was on steriods and it went too fast sending the message to the entire basketball mailing list. And I receive the following replies (please pardon their atrocious spelling) in chronological order -

Ah Tiong: I din go back yet prolly later tis week...

Bruce: Havent seen yet

Junbin: Huh? Wat u talking?

Mingji: my doc? wat doc?

Kelwin: I have a jones fracture. On my fifth metalasaral what's up?

Zihao: My doc? Did you sms the wrong person?

Weiyi: Wrong msg? "Just wondering what did your doc say?"

Looking at the injury list, I wonder if I should put a temporary stop to the weekly basketball sessions, after all, I am personally nursing my injured knee and my torn lips; the latter caused by two of Zihao's short range passes to my face.

But I figured that it would be easier to incapacitate Zihao than to stop our games.

Someone please remind me to bring a chopper this Sunday.

 
It has been quite some time since I last woke up, at least for the weekdays, eager to meet the morning sun or excited about the possibilities and the opportunities that each day might bring.

Something important has been lost. And although I cannot put a word to it at the moment, I intend to get it back.

 
My transport was cruising down the expressway this morning when I saw in the air, a stationary bird. But the bird was hardly stationary. It was simply, like strangers who move in and out of our lives, for that brief instant, heading the same direction, at the same speed.

And after travelling for a good few hundred metres, as strangers, we met, as strangers we parted. It took flight upwards and never looked down. I went on my way.

Someone please remind me to tell the driver that if we are not flying, we are definitely going a tad too fast.

 
Love Is In The Air

I was watching the highlights of NBA on the treadmill last night. And I realized that there are quite a few having such a strange habit like me out there.

"I spent my summer watching old games on the treadmill."
Bill Simmons
ESPN Page 2 Columnist

The season opener featured the L.A Lakers against the Mavericks. And it was followed by the highlights of the game between Spurs and the Suns. The pace was lightning and it was actually breathtaking to just watch them play.

Basketball is the very reason why I am in the gym in the first place. And if I am to give a few reasons to watch NBA, there are the following:

First, there is grace and beauty in each seemingly flawlessly choreographed games.

Then as Michelle Branch puts it, there is emotional intensity.

A little bit of laughs
A little bit of pain
I'm telling you, my babe
It's all in the game of love

And there is poetry.

I want to see players make plays at crunch time as much as the next person, but I also want to savor these moments when the game, regardless of the score or the situation, is just a short, perfect poem on the rush of opportunity unfolding in front of you and the beauty of choosing the one true path.

Eric Neel
ESPN Page 2 Columnist

Grace, beauty, emotional intensity and poetry.... I think I am in love.

 
Words have been uttered,
And arguments made,
About the lonely journey,
That life is.
Yet despite all that is said,
And all that is done,
When my skin burns,
In the cold rain,
And my soul quivers,
To its core,
In the thunder...
My eyes search the horizons,
For one who shares,
Prayers that escaped,
From my trembling lips.

 
Seen on a PSLE composition describing two men trying to open a door: Beads of perspiration flowed down my body, soaking me wet, causing my clothes to turn translucent and pressing against my body.

What do the kids read nowadays?

 
It seems that if I am struck as often by physical objects as by my thoughts, I would have either arrive dead on my way to work or be found dead on my bathroom floor.

Halfway through my shower this morning, I realized that if someone is observant enough, he/she will be able to see correlations between my vocabulary, my body language, my intonations and my disposition.

I suppose everyone becomes the mental image which they want to portray of themselves.

And that is precisely what makes them predictable.

After all, self expression, portraying oneself, personal styles, are simply exhibited patterns; relatively consistent forms of expressing oneself.

It was an uncomfortable realization that someone can read me like a book. It was years since I last have any intentions which I need to mask, and it was years since I need to hide my thoughts from myself or from anyone. Yet there was a resistance when I realize that my physical body can betray my mental self.

If a person can read my thoughts, would not he/she be said to be able to understand me? And have I not, in the past, crave for understanding, thirst for my thoughts to be shared with someone, with anyone?

But that was in the past, in the relatively distant past.

Now, I just want my thoughts to reverberate only through the empty labyrinths of my mind. And then, they are to be silenced. But why am I suddenly so comfortable in my the cold of the solipsistic limbo? Perhaps I have finally resigned myself to the Nietzschean heights, or perhaps I am finally at peace with the true lonely nature of human existence. Then why do mere, harmless, random, often uncontrollable, imprudent thoughts matter so much to me that I have to guard them? Does it truly matter if others can hear them or see them? What exactly makes them so sacred, so precious?

Perhaps like knowledge, they are all that I have and all that I can ever have. Or perhaps they are like the intangible will and the fleeting images we called memories, all that I am.

And all that I ever will be.

Are they then who I am? Is this privacy of my intentions the very key to my individuality?

The answer to this question holds implications of such gravity that I shall be respectfully silent.

I began questioning years ago, if the people who asked to be understood really knew what they were in for. They asked for someone to truly understand them, to truly share their thoughts and their likes, their dislikes, and their passion. But have they asked if they can truly live with themselves? Have they asked whether their soulmates truly understand them, would they still be able to love them? Could imperfect creatures such as they, incapable of even approximating unconditional love, love creatures as flawed as themselves?

I think not. But I am in no position to answer the above questions since the said persons have chose not to answer them.

 
The signs of maturity sometimes lie in the questions one ask.

Thus the important question to Arnold is: Will there be Terminator 4?

 
I am thinking of taking up a second degree, probably in terms of business and marketing. If anyone is to ask me why I would contemplate losing sleep, travelling hours a week, and using what few hours I can squeeze to study, I probably might not be able to come up with a good answer, except that maybe I like to find things out and find out how it all works.

And I figured that if I am to truly go into teaching, I would really need to know more, especially about how the world works. Knowing and teaching the kids what is in the textbook is totally meaningless to me. Having a teacher without real life experiences, who has never written a resume, or done any jobs other than teaching, will not be helpful to a child's future at all.

In terms of career guidance, or in terms of knowledge of the skills and qualities required for the modern workplace, or the social etiquette involved in personal relationships at work, they could contribute little to a child's understanding.

Someone has to teach these children about the rules of the world out there. My friend had told me that I am probably the best person to teach the General Paper in Junior Colleges but I will end up being the most disappointed one.

But we will see, we will see.

 
There is something from the Ulysses that has struck a cord in me since years ago. Maybe it is the equating of the boring company an aged old wife to the thankless task of governing an disinterested, savage race.

Maybe it is something else.

But I doubt so.

Ulysses,

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

--- Lord Alfred Tennyson

 
Time flies. A fortnight has passed since Silenus left for UK for further studies. And it passed hurriedly, yet silently.

Time flies. Twenty six years have passed since we were born. All twenty six passed by without us noticing.

And more will pass as we busy ourselves with our daily lives. The word "daily" made no attempts to hide itself, yet it so surreptitiously implies time that we are blind to it. There is no denying change. But grow or aging, the choice is yours.

Push yourself, push yourself hard. And you will grow.

We will grow wiser, smarter, faster, stronger and better, anything but older.

 
Basketball yesterday was good, even though I sprained by left middle finger, got scratches all over my hand and almost broke my right arm...

It was good, I think....

 
Dialogue With the Pull-Up Bar

An Encounter with Self

It was there, waiting for me, at the place that we usually meet at the stroke of midnight, always there, always earlier. It was there, for as long as I remembered, since the day I moved into the neighbourhood.

Though we have met many times before, every new encounter feels like the first, every new encounter feels different.

Yet there was something strange about its demeanour tonight. The mood was more solemn and tense than our usual, casual meetings, almost like the calm before the storm. Even the passing of cars on the nearby road could not break the stifling silence.

The pale moon threw its thin shadows across the floor and framed by the tall dark trees, creating an imposing sight, a sight which I am sure have been the cause of sleepless nights for many men.

Silence was almost like a third party in our meetings, and separating us and trapping us in our own worlds. Any exchange was minimal even though we have many times intimately touched.

 
The headlines today are spectacular. A few of the NTU academics found that 3 of 4 new jobs in the past 5 years were given to foreigners. And while I am not sure how they came up with their findings, I know that they have just opened a can of worms.

This issue of foreign talents and foreign workers filling up spaces in our job market and depriving our citizens of a higher pay or even employment has been simmering for quite a while. And in times of economic crisis, such a piece of information will no doubt have both the eyes and ears of the people.

It has been a constant debate between the ruling party and the opposition party for legislation in terms of a minimum wage law and priority employment for citizens when all relevant factors are equal.

More often than not, all things are equal except for pricing.

Now that the citizens are not guaranteed lifetime employment, neither are they guaranteed employment, the sense of a secure future that is central to the citizen's life is absent. Without material security, dreams and visions are difficult.

The government's call to the people not to rely on the state is to distance the people from the state. Forced and imposed independence often leads to a lack of love and loyalty. And the people assume a mercenary mentality akin to large multi-national corporations; every country is the same; every country can be a land of opportunity; ripe for plucking.

People will question why they even have to serve their national service. For all they have done, for all that they have contributed, they are neither protected from competition from fellow citizens nor foreigners. Then for what should they be loyal for?

Many stay because their loved ones are here, but that matters little when the living conditions become too harsh. I urge that we do not forget that we are a nation of migrants and a nation of quitters, and we can quit anytime.

Remember the power of good bye...

This is a time of anomie and change. If the opposition wants to turn the tables on the ruling party, the tide is in. They have little to lose. The people never had much to lose, and they are just beginning to realize it. They are only beginning to realize that they are each alone in this, with little to rely on. National pride is an illusion, social welfare non-existent and our national icons will fall one by one, beginning with our Changi Airport.

This enlightenment will bring about drastic changes. And hopefully, it will bring about new wisdom.

 
Love and passion are acts, not feelings nor intentions. I suppose this will apply to devotion, loyalty and benevolence.

Speaking from the point of a materialist/behaviorist, intentions and motives hardly matter anymore. Morally, the deed can be judged by its consequences and not its intended purposes nor initial motivations.

I admit that this is a rather reductive approach to morality and humanity. The mental, spiritual and emotional elements have been deemed irrelevant in judging if an act is lawful or moral. But I am being pushed to advocate this point of view.

For too many people have been telling me that they feel. But they do not do.

For too many people have been telling me that they love. But they do not do.

For too many people have been telling me that they care. But they do not do.

Sometimes, I wonder what they feel, love or care.

Love and passion allow for no excuse.

 
As the vehicle picked up speed, the packet of tissue that I placed on the floor of the truck came to life. The individual sheets took off and spiraled round, below the ceiling, above the floor. With each orbit, they gathered momentum and rose to greater heights.

As they approaches the sides of the truck, they were swept back by the currents drawn to fill in the vacuum left by the speeding truck; somewhat reminiscent of our very own thoughts, trapped by convention, fear or limits of our imagination; yet still given to an illusion of free will. For minutes, sheets fluttered about, held in by three invisible curtains of wind, seemingly free yet unable to escape.

Then suddenly one of the sheets spun too far to the side and whipped by the currents, it sped past (relatively speaking) the truck and into a distance, gaining greater heights and freedom.

Sometimes, we call such runaway thoughts: day dreams; other times: sudden bouts of inspiration; and other times, dependent on the subject: madness; genius or stupidity. But these thoughts could very well be what allows us to be free and to be human.

But often, socially, we call such deviance of thought: illegal.

 
Basketball on Sunday was as it usually was: GOOD.

And we have received heartening news: In about a week's time, we will have one more player; a returning player. It is an exciting time for all of us here, as we are seeing growth in the past few months.

On both team and individual level, we have grown, still is growing and evolving right before your very eyes.

From our weekly games throughout the years, we have all benefited greatly. Some are now faster, more agile; others have improved their cardiovascular endurance. Everyone is now healthier.

And in a subtle way, the game teaches us that the acquisition of social skills does not end when adulthood begin. Self confidence grows and self image improves with proficiecy in the game.

All these might sound as like some TV commercial for slimming products, but the truth is that it is possible... at the personal cost of perspiration, blisters, blood, sprained fingers, twisted ankles, and not to mention days of sore muscles and sunburns.

Disclaimer: The list of injuries include but is not limited to the abovementioned.

Life is an imperfect miracle that has lots of room for improvement.

So let us work on it.

 
This is the first time I am trying out my PDA since I accidentally smashed it against the floor.

The pain.... the pain....

Time stood still when it flew from my hand, with every moment of that fateful scene vividly carved into my mind.

NOOoooo...

In crystal clear clarity, I can see it in slow motion, took flight from my hand, tracing a short hyperbola before hitting the ground with great impact and a resounding crack, bouncing three times before coming to a halt eons later.

CRACK

There was no immediate pain, only a tightening of chest which refused to loosen when I tried to inhale. The pain soon followed. It was not a sharp pain, but rather a dull ache that resembled a heavy weight being pressed on your chest, slowly crushing you.

I... cannot.... breathe

I suppose reality hits you like a slow flying brick, with an undeniable force. Unlike usual pains which disappear after they exhaust themselves, reality is here to stay, and reality is as real as you are. It laughs at you and challenges you to do something about it.

The laughter.... get the laughter out of my head.... GET IT OUT!

And in my case, it slapped me with my own impotence and challenged me to turn back time.

 
On my bookmark:

"Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as real strength."

- Ralph Sockman

 
The sun was in my hair, the winds rushing past my ears, the blue skies framed by the shimmering green of the canopy overhead, titillating the five senses without end. Beauty can sometimes allow one to forget how terrible things can be.

But the consolation comes not from the beauty of the world, but the transience of the it all; from the understanding that it will all end someday.

It is not that I do not believe in eternity or eternal existence. It is that I do not want to...

 
Since years ago, I believe that the mark of maturity is self awareness and self empowerment.

Now, I would like to add that it is also the shift from self expression to self actualization.

So sing, to act, to dance, to live for no other eyes but your own...

 
Bung and Time

I have not worn a watch in years, in almost 5 years. And many curious souls have questioned me about it. With a simple shrug, my instinctive answer would be that I do not like to be tied down by or tied to anything; not a watch; not a chain; not a ring.

But it was not always so, there was a point of time which I did not mind....

I suppose it started since my army days, when a simple pager frames the chronological vacuum and fills the position of a watch. Most would know that my pager runs 47 minutes ahead of the institutionalized, international, codified time. That strange number was required to as doing mental sums in the morning to determine the correct time helps tremendously to shake the sands of slumber out of my eyes.

But there was a time which I wore a watch. A watch that was meant to tell me someone else's time, and for me to adhere to. It did not really work out. It just made my famous lack of punctuality relatively more pronounced and less forgivable since I wear an objective measure on my wrist.

At that point, I worked, lived and played as I used to.

And there was a time which I wore a simple ring. A gift from the same person who gave me the watch. It was a simple exchange; my heart for a ring. My hand held a ring when it can no longer hold still my heart. In the transaction, questions of fairness or relative worth seemed distant, the heart had to be set free. It just seemed so much easier holding onto a band that weighed a thousand tons then...

I have since took off the watch and I have since took off the ring. I have once again returned to my unordered life in the chronological vacuum, to the anarchy and familiar chaos which was characteristic of the normality which I have gotten used to since my early years of existence.

Everything was back to what it was, or kind of.

For my hand remains empty...

 
I Will Remember You

(by Sarah McLachlan, Seamus Egan, and Dave Merenda)

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us
when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you
smilin' in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me,
I wanna be the one

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so tired but I can't sleep
Standin' on the edge
of something much too deep
It's funny how we feel so much
but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside,
but we can't be heard

But I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so afraid to love you,
but more afraid to loose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
Once there was a darkness,
deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had,
oh you gave me light

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Weep not for the memories

 
I know what it is like,
to be in love with possibilities.

I have toyed with ideas.
I have considered illusions.
I have flirted with alternatives.
I have romanced metaphors.
I have teased possibilities.

It is something I am so accustomed to.

But what is it like to be saddened,
by the loss of a possibility?
Or to feel hurt when we are denied one,
of the many?

I think...
clinging to possibilities,
is to be afraid,
afraid of being abandoned,
by chance, by people, by time.

Ironic is it not,
should one be finally abandoned
by choices,
because one did not want to make
a choice?

 
In my haste to rush to the gym on Saturday, I mistook my facial wash for my toothpaste.

If this continues, I will have soft, silky smooth teeth and white, hard, cavity-free skin.

 
I weigh myself at the gym today.

With shoes, the scale reads 61.6 kg.

I am regaining the weight I lost 4 years ago....

 
Edmond's signature on his email reads:

May God give us the wisdom to know the right,
the will to choose it,
and the strength for it to endure.

King Arthur in "First Knight"

 
This song from Top Gun is dedicated to some of my guys who have been facing problems with those of the fairer, although not necessarily, nicer sex. You have not admitted it, but I know who you are. Here is something to remind the joy of simplicity, enjoy:

Playing With the Boys
Kenny Loggins

I'd say it was the right time
To walk away
When dreaming takes you nowhere
It's time to play
Bodies working overtime
Your money don't matter
The clock keeps ticking
When someone's on your mind

I'm moving in slow motion
Feels so good
It's a strange anticipation
Knock, knock, knocking on wood
Bodies working overtime
Man against man
And all that ever matters
Is baby who's ahead in the game
Funny but it's always the same

(Chorus)
Playing, playing with the boys
Playing, playing with the boys
After chasing sunsets
One of life's simple joys
Is playing with the boys

Said it was the wrong thing
For me to do
I said it's just a boys' game
Girls play too
My heart is working overtime
In this kind of game
Someone gets hurt
I'm afraid that someone is me
If you want to find me, I'll be
Playing with the boys

I don't want to be the moth around your fire
I don't want to be obsessed by your desire
I'm ready, I'm leaving
I've seen enough
I've got to go
You play too rough

 
I have come to a conclusion that nicotine makes one courageous.... or foolhardy.

I have been privileged to witness some apparently nicotine induced acts. There were times when I see motorcyclists on the expressway, in drizzle, one hand steering the bike, the other holding a cigarette; smoking despite the obvious difficulties of having to adjust your helmet to fit in the cigarette with every puff, and the lifespan of each cigarette drastically reduced by the rushing wind.

Of course, there are other memorable acts, one of which remained fresh in my mind. I happened to be standing between two other smokers along a row of urinals. As we were collectively contributing to the national newater movement, they were puffing away, holding their cigarettes in the same hand that they used to hold their organs. It struck me that should a spasm strike or that there be a shiver, a personal tragedy could just take place. They could possibly be scarred for life, not to mention wasting a few good puffs. And let me assure you, hair can burn.

I held myself back from studying how close they held their cigarettes to their respective members, after all, working in a male-dominated environment, the last thing I want to be known as is a butt lover. In any case, I am sure they were holding it close enough to feel the heat. Well, I am still curious and I do hope that my smoker friends can enlighten me through their personal experiences. But please be informed that all experimentation will be done so at your own risk, I will not be held responsible for any unfortunate accidents, nor will I financially able to pay for any cosmetic surgery or reconstruction procedures.

Should anything untowards happen to you, I do hope that nicotine is a painkiller. All the best.

 
Every Sunday, I fall in love all over again. Just like a mayfly; being born; growing; mating and dying; living out its short existence in those few hours; I am reborn every Sunday morning. My steps are lighter, my heart beats faster, my face wears a silly grin in anticipation of what is to come.

It is so strange that after so many years, I am still so in love with basketball. Every week I dance with a new partner, dancing a different dance, to a different tune.

It may seem bizarre to some; it may seem ridiculous to some that a person can be so dedicated to a single sport. But as with most love affairs, it is probably detrimental to health; as evidenced by many of my friends with damaged knees and finger joints, and often it happens without warning nor reason.

It has always eluded me how anyone can be as in love with a person. Basketball and philosophy remain my greatest loves; they remain the only things that I think I can be remain faithful to.

Whatever allow you to look forward to a new day; whatever allow you to want to look for beauty beyond what is apparently ugly and painful to bear; whatever allow you to want to want to wake up; whatever allow you to feel the surge of youthful energy within your aging limbs; whatever restore that fire in your eyes, are worth falling in love with... and falling absolutely in love with.