Soothing Roars of Raging Whispers

2009

2009-01-08T18:25:00.002+08:00

08's gone in a flash.

Xmas and New Year eves were decent.. spending quality time with the family.
I'm not sure if it has anything to do with age, but I am finding myself increasingly inclined towards opting to arrange for get-togethers with my parents.
It's definitely not the case of realisation of their love for me - I've discovered the profound degree of gratitude I have for my folks quite a while back.
It's as if I'm afraid of not having the chance to have them understand that I am a son who is filial and will always treat them with utmost respect. My youth was mistake-ridden, and they had to bear the brunt of the hurt I caused back then.
I just hope they will realise, in due time, that I am no longer the selfish and irresponsible teen. My metamorphosis may be incomplete, but I will become the man that they'll be proud of.

Work for the missus has had its ups and downs in '08, but as usual, relatively smooth-sailing. Long may that continue, and I can only wish she'd be ready to grab whatever opportunities that may present themselves in the new year to propel herself forward in the dreary corporate ladder.

In an unexpected turn of events, somehow, inexplicably, we are set to host our customary wedding dinner in November this year. Goodwood Park's our initial choice of location, watch this space for updates! We're awfully excited about it, albeit with a tinge of trepidation with regards to the huge amount of work that lies ahead prior to November 1st. Fingers crossed.

Examinations arrive in May, and frantic catch-ups and revisions are in order.

But for now, I just can't wait for CNY to come along.

After consecutive years of jadedness over this holiday, I'm suddenly very caught up in the whole festive mood of CNY.

Maybe because it'll be our last year RECEIVING any Ang Pows.

Fuck.

2008-10-28T10:51:00.001+08:00

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Phuket hangover

2008-10-09T17:03:00.003+08:00

Phuket '08 was good. And by that I'm associating good with being intoxicated with cheap booze, cigs, and food.

Weather proved to be much more favourable than the forecasts suggested (scattered thunderstorms). In fact, it only poured way after midnight on our first day, and in the afternoon on our 3rd day. And so we managed to get much more sun than our previous visits. Yay.

This time round, Alex (our "dai dee" host) finally brought the love of his life along for a peek at paradise. We were also joined by Khai (Joline's friend), who turned out to be a really good tosser of a lighter when drunk.

Arriving at 2pm Thai local time, we headed straight to Lotus supermart to stock up on some 'groceries' to bring back to the hotel. My missus went berzerk on grabbing tomyum instant noodles off the shelves - a trend that lasted the entirety of our time in Phuket. (I We ended up lugging back a suitcase full of that ~~junk~~ delicacy.) Anyone heading to Phuket, please refrain from letting my wife know about it. She ~~will make~~ might politely request your help to import more instant noodles. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Anyway.
We also bought lots of coconuts and beers. Cheap as fuck, and they taste almost better than sex. Which incidentally was also an activity we heavily indulged in throughout the vacation. =D *dodges the wife's menacing glare*

We wasted no time and headed straight to Lotus (a famous seafood restaurant located along the beach adjacent to our hotel, the Sheraton Grande Laguna) right after checking in. The somewhat awkward timing (4pm) of the meal did nothing to prevent us from ordering a hearty meal consisting of green curry chicken, bbq tiger prawns, shrimp cake, best morning glory in the world etc, and washing it down with some good ol' Singha.

The group of us (2 guys and 3 girls) somehow conspired to polish off in excess of 13 big bottles of beer and a bottle of whisky and Bailey's. Our DFS carton of Dunhill's didn't last the duration of our stay too. =/
Okay, it was a lot of drinking and smoking, but we really enjoyed laughing the nights away downing alcohol whilst playing silly drinking games.

Puccini's, the Italian restaurant which offered complimentary ala carte buffet breakfast for villa guests, unsurprisingly was where we had our fix of free-flow bacon, sunny-side-ups, hashbrowns, waffles, pancakes and fresh fruit juices every morning.

The missus' ~~incessant~~ gentle reminders meant there were no way in hell we'd not ~~splurge~~ enjoy a luxurious spa session at the world reknowned Banyan Tree Spa retreat. The costs may be somewhat... exorbitant for many; but you have my word for it - it is worth every single ~~limb~~ penny you fork out. If I were to describe the experience of our Banyan Tree session in a word... it would be ~~EXPENSIVE!!!!~~ heavenly. Pure bliss. =)

Trips to Phuket have almost been some sort of a sneak peek into paradise for us.
It's a place where daily troubles appear insignificantly minute, somewhere that you wake up every morning looking forward to absolutely nothing but ~~sin~~ relaxation.

Which is why we're suffering from a severe Phuket hangover.
We yearn for a return to paradise, and as remote as the odds might be, here's fingers crossed. ;)

Thanks a whole lot to Mr Pang (again) for making the trip possible.
You are our superhero. HAHA!

09.09.08

2008-09-09T09:27:00.001+08:00

Once my dream
Now my wife
Forever my love.

Happy Wedding Anniversary baby =)

Genting Getaway

2008-09-08T10:01:00.002+08:00

We took a weekend trip up to Malaysia's Genting Highlands with the family, and to say the least, it was a much needed break from the monotonous daily ongoings.

We embarked on the journey up north early Friday morning, and given the fact that we've only 1.5 hours of sleep prior to the road trip, my missus and I ended up napping on the car for the entire time. I did feel kind of guilty having my dad do all the driving this time round, but I suspect he wasn't going to be all that comfortable having me behind the wheel trying to keep up with my uncles who're used to hitting 140-160kph.

Arriving at the Genting Highlands Resort around noon, we promptly settled check-in procedures. We were admittedly somewhat relieved that we were allocated a whole room to ourselves despite it being a huge family trip and all. Of course, the king-sized bed and spacious open-concept bath tub was a pleasant surprise too. =p We wasted little time and headed right for the casino after settling in. Hurhur. Having had little chance of patronising casinos, it was quite an eye-opening experience. My poor wifey had problems coping with the incessant smoking in the premises, but the occasional excitement the slots machines throw up does its part to lift her spirits. We found ourselves completely appalled at the insane amounts of money being thrown around the tables. Roulette, Blackjack, Texas Hold'em... my uncles were placing bets ranging from RM200 to RM4000 per hand. Took us a long time to reconcile with the scenes before us - thousands of dollars being won and lose by the minute.

Weather up there was quite superb. We enjoyed temperatures of 15 to 20 degrees celcius throughout the 3 days' stay, an excellent escape from Singapore's recent torrid humidity. The view could be loosely described as breathtaking... it isn't everyday we get to see the scenery from a vantage point of ABOVE the clouds. =)

It was thoroughly pleasing to take a break from the lights and sounds inside the casino, and visit Starbucks way past midnight, al fresco. Bone-chilling winds biting at our skins, the aroma of our warm Caramel Machiatos appeared all the more fragrant, and it was a really great experience.

Needless to say, we can't wait for the next opportunity to head back for another quick getaway. Probably sometime end of this year? Phuket '08 looms ahead as well, so September is indeed proving to be a pretty good month.

In the mean time, we mourn the wifey's turning another year older, as well as prepare to celebrate our very FIRST WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. ;)

In the mail

2008-08-15T11:54:00.002+08:00

Adrian Tan is a litigation lawyer at one of Singapore's top law firms.

This is his speech at NTU's convocation ceremony this year.

Life and How to Survive It

I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee
School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your
convocation address. It's a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to
speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation
or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.

My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She
is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has
honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by
practising at home during conversations between her and me.

On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day
telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being
disagreeable.

Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That
is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one
who triumphs is always the wife.

And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when
you've already won her heart, you don't need to win every argument.

Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already
be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be
married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be
married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end
of education. You're done learning.

You've probably been told the big lie that 'Learning is a lifelong
process' and that therefore you will continue studying and taking
masters' degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know
the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don't you think there
is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of
learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to
be repeat customers.

The good news is that they're wrong.

The bad news is that you don't need further education because your
entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of
you. You're in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that
you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life
expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean
the average life span of a group of people. But I'm here to talk about
a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.

You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as
the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind
Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why
people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing
in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There's very little
danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching
us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into
a gentle and restful nap.

Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live
to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than
five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time
they need to spend in the bathroom.

So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you'll have another
40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.

Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they're
50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their
convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn't meet
their life expectancy.

I'm here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.

After all, it's calculated based on an average. And you never, ever
want to expect being average.

Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working,
falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as
graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your
hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.

That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be
an awful waste.

If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living
your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have
nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them.
And you don't need years of education by the best minds in Singapore
to prepare you to be average.

What you should prepare for is mess. Life's a mess. You are not
entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does
not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over
it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment
by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.

Don't expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your
life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as
tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever
be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you
will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from
here. Or up. No one knows.

What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.

Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many
wonderful things that you can do when you are free.

The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it
is undesirable.

Work kills. The Japanese have a term 'Karoshi', which means death from
overwork. That's the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it
can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day,
bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there's
nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.

There's a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet
people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are 'making a
living'. No, they're not. They're dying, frittering away their
fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless
and, at worst, harmful.

People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a
certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan 'Arbeit macht frei'
was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps.
Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate
so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in
modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.

Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you
enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it
for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will
have value in itself.

I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy
it and I would do it for free. If I didn't do that, I would've been in
some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably
a sports journalist.

So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don't imagine
you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will
have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I'll go
further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able
to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know
what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and
feeling superior, you might become a teacher.

Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an
obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you
don't, you are working.

Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To
those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I'm not
asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is
dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great
capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you
are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even
conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or
equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the
truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to
appreciate the value of silence.

In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That
requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the
mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and
that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be
hated.

It's not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet
every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been
hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred
is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused,
murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.

One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it's often the case
that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one's
own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be
accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate
towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your
role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are
not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure
sign that you are doing something wrong.

The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn't say 'be loved'. That requires too much compromise. If one
changes one's looks, personality and values, one can be loved by
anyone.

Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for
me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without
deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We've taken
a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It
far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise.
Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance.
It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.

Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning,
attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call
happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves
in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We
celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.

Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important
to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn't
happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It
grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It
is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.

You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is
less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the
heart.

You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not
reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to
inspire you.

Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to
loving someone. You either don't, or you do with every cell in your
body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It
consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don't work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.

You're going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there's no life expectancy.

August

2008-08-11T09:47:00.002+08:00

It's the lunar month of July, the Hungry Ghost Festival. It's the month of our National Day, the month of the Beijing Olympics.

It's also the month I've been quietly dreading for quite a while now. It's the month results are due to be released.

It turned out to be sheer jubilation. It's been a long time since I've experienced pure relief, and that was exactly the emotion which overwhelmed me eventually, after the initial shock of realising I managed to pull off a Houdini-like escape.

My efforts for the course of the past year were below par, and though I pushed myself hard in the final lap, it seemed more like a mad dash for a lost cause. In retrospect, got to admit every single hour, minute, or even second of last-minute revision I've put in proved more than worthwhile. I'm glad I didn't succumb to the grip of despair which threatened to derail my revision. So fucking glad.

So from the look of things, school's gonna be starting for me in a coupla weeks' time, somewhere in September. And apart from vowing to chalk up consistent work for the coming term, I'm looking forward to spending the final weeks of my holidays with people that matter. Family. Friends.

August is also the month before September.
Which means my darling's birthday is round the corner, as well as our first wedding anniversary.
~~Methinks~~ She ~~can hardly~~ can't wait.

Tongue in cheek.

2008-07-02T13:03:00.001+08:00

Three's a crowd.

I love crowds.

2008-06-04T20:10:00.001+08:00

Love is giving someone the power to hurt you, but trusting him/her not to use it.

Love

2008-04-16T10:14:00.002+08:00

Many sought the 'true meaning' of Love, and failed miserably.
It is not a school of Science with standard rules and laws that could be applied generically for all situations; hence I describe those who attempt to uncover the 'definition' of Love to be looking for a needle in a haystack - when there is no fucking needle.

We're all sick and tired of hearing the bloody question - "What is Love?"
Herein lies the dilemma. How do you go about defining something that transcends words? It's foolish to try objectify Love, when it is all about subjectivity.

How do you know you're truly in love? How do you know he/she's in love with you?
How do you know he/she's the one for you?
Questions not meant to be asked.
You will know it, when you know it.

Love is the classic, timeless, perfect alibi to bail you out from actions seemingly devoid of reason. Love can be expressed in more ways than one, and the most fundamental form is by way of speech. Letting him/her know... it's an absolutely vital cog in a relationship; yet it's hardly enough.

"Sometimes, I just need to know if you still care."

...

2008-04-10T14:28:00.002+08:00

Disclaimer: This would be extremely random of an entry. But we all have our moments of disorientation that's coupled with the insane urge to verbal-vomit.

Alright.

I realised that I am not in favour of being alone.
Okay, perhaps it's not so much a realisation than it is a resignation to an underlying trait I've grown accustomed to reject over the years.

In recent weeks, circumstances have it such that I've been faced with frequent moments of isolation. Hours of solitude. And during such times when the sole company I have is myself, it grows clearer by the day that I seem incapable of handling it well.

Quite often, I find myself actually spooked by the absolute silence in my immediate vicinity, and scatter to find some songs to play in the background. It's also interesting to find that, contrary to my belief, I do speak to myself - albeit in a rather subconscious manner. I always thought of people who talk to themselves, or talk themselves through doing certain things, as... weird. And now as it turns out, I'm one of those weirdos. Actually come to think of it, it's not that big a deal eh? Ho-hum.

Anyway. Suddenly I'm thinking, I might not be that good a person to hang around with, since I am so utterly awkard with being with myself. Could it be that this is an opinion shared by others as well? Have I overlooked the overwhelming possibility that I might be a complete bore of a person? Or a pain-in-the-ass that noone can stand? If I am uncomfortable with me, than what are the chances it ain't the same for friends and family alike? I shudder at the thought that it could be true.

It is a slight paradox that a somewhat withdrawn person like myself could be so allergic to being in solitude. I am admittedly reclusive by nature; I grew up as an extremely quiet child, known to others as a kid who displays unparalled obedience, and to some closer kin - as a boy who keeps his thoughts, problems and fears to himself. As I grew older, I unwittingly portrayed myself to others as someone who's unwilling to open up, and labelled as being aloof (a tag still placed upon me by many up till this day). Perhaps it was due to the fact that I deemed such a character trait as undesirable. A weakness. A chink in my emotional armour that must be masked over. And the oddity of it all, is that people assumed that beneath the silent demeanor is implicit self-confidence. And as the years flew by, I became that person. I grew into the role of the man that people thought I was - a quiet and confident individual (or an aloof, cocky idiot marked by a disinclination to engage in any form of social activities).
As Eminem put it, "My dick shrunk smaller, but my balls grew larger."
I became someone everyone wants to fuck with, but know they probably shouldn't.

And now that I've been put in this situation repeatedly, where I'm forced to live with myself for significant durations over the course of the week, I question what kind of a person I am, beneath the image that is portrayed to one and all.

My sanity is intact.
My moral values still upright.
My insatiable thirst for knowledge, power, money and sex still present.

Why is it that I have doubts with regards what kind of a person am I?
Am I more interested in finding out the absolute truth, or just the opinions of others on me?

And the inconclusive conclusion I draw from this incoherent post, is that perhaps, after being so accustomed to being the Zhenghan that I have become over the years, I find myself now still wearing the same shoes... when my feet no longer can fill them snugly. Confidence, a distinct commodity that shaped who I am during path of growing up, has seeped away from me, undetected, right under my eyes.
My balls have shrunk.

The only remaining debate left in me is - am I no longer confident of my capabilities because I am slowly but surely discovering my increasing incompetence?
Or is it (a more preferred scenario) that I am only doubting myself due to the myriad of uncertainties cloaking my vision of the future?

I hate to be enveloped by fears. And when I'm left alone, it seems fears are the only food for thought I can serve myself with.

V for Vendetta

2008-04-02T15:36:00.002+08:00

"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. [slashes a V into a Norsefire poster] The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. [giggles] Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you, and you may call me V."

I find myself more than inclined to overlook the sheer verbosity of it all, and instead marvel at the vehement delivery showcased by the very talented Hugo Weaving.

Finally got around to watching this film last weekend, and I was, in all honesty, blown away. It was by far one of the best films I've watched; in fact, my wife and I are planning to have another go at the movie this week - it's that good. Personally, after "V for Vendetta", I feel that Natalie Portman's definitely one understated actress. She was convincing throughout the entirety of the show as Evey Hammond, so much so that I doubt there would be another actress in our time that could've possibly filled her shoes for the character. Having said that, nothing should be taken away from the mesmerizing performance of Hugo Weaving as "V". If you didn't catch the film when it was in the cinemas, get the DVD.

And my favourite line from the show...

"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof."

Old faces

2008-03-18T09:40:00.003+08:00

Okay so the housewarming bbq didn't exactly happen.

A couple of minor hiccups in the administration, as well as the persistent bad weather forced us to put it off to a later date. Yes, again - but we're sure it'd be somewhere in April...

Seeing as to how my dear friend Alex would inevitably miss the postponed session, we got around to arranging a last-minute dinner at our new place. So Alex, Miss J, and funnyman !keng became our first official guests at our humble abode.

Since it was put together without prior preparations, we were pressed for time come early Saturday to head to the markets and grab the necessary ingredients for dinner. The missus was in a classic state of frenzied disequilibrium, fussing over how clueless she was over the menu for the evening, as well as worrying nonstop about how the food would turn out. Not that she didn't have cause to - we were playing hosts for the first time, and we didn't want to disappoint... too much.

As luck would have it, the roasted chicken thighs and vegetables, pan-fried assorted mushrooms, our specialty the garlic mashed potatoes all turned out fairly edible and benign to our guests' stomachs. ;) It was a pretty delectable dinner for a first-time attempt if I dare say so myself. Excellent work by Mrs Sia.

The delightful company made light work of the passage of the evening. And over beers, Baileys, scotch and cigarettes, we amused ourselves with light banter and it was definitely pleasing to catch up with my dear friends again. Till next time, eh?

On the same note, it's Good Friday week, and we've planned for my cousins to crash at our place for an overnight dose of junk food and alcohol, mahjong and cards, Playstation3 and DVDs. Should be great. We really do hope the lot would enjoy themselves to the fullest.

Heading off to the gym now, just want to include a quote from BL, by far my all-time favourite series.

"Denny: You know the old joke, Alan? Man shows up at the Pearly Gates, sees this guy in a pin stripe suit, and a briefcase, a cigar, prancing about. He says to Saint Peter, 'Who's that guy?' Saint Peter says 'Ahhh, that's just God. Thinks he's Denny Crane.'"

Catching up

2008-03-10T17:47:00.004+08:00

Yesterday marked our 6 months wedding anniversary.
It's been half a year since we made our vows to each other; It's clichéd - but I still do remember every single minute detail of the day.

The frantic preparations, butterflies in the stomach, the joyous buzz around the place.

Holding her hand in mine, the march-in, the exchanging of very solemn and sincere vows.

Slipping on our wedding bands, sealing our lovely union with a kiss...

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We've finally gotten our asses down to making the much-postponed 'housewarming' happen. Slated for the coming Saturday, it's tentatively poised to be a simple affair - poolside BBQ session with a few of her colleagues and our friends.

We'd have to hold another session (of a greater scale) in March for family and relatives, but that can wait for now.

I'm thrilled that this occasion coincides with the return of Mr. Alex Pang. It's been a while, so I'm hoping there'd be some serious alcohol and nicotine consumption come this weekend.

In the meantime, however, it means making sure we have got the food and drinks ready by Saturday. Not to jinx it, but here's fingers crossed - let's have a nice breezy evening, please.

==========================================================

I am en route to flunking my prelim papers. But I'm still keeping my spirits up, because for the papers that I did put in some effort for, I saw glimpses of myself - of what I am capable of. Displaying a keen thirst for knowledge, coupled with an almost mechanical system of digesting information, I found myself actually enjoying what I was doing. (Last minute revisions which involved going through stacks of notes at breakneck speed) True, indolence proved to be my undoing this time round, again. But amidst the frantic preparations, I recognised within me the scholarly attributes I've been dying to acquaint myself with.

There is hope.

Random Quote II

2008-02-28T10:22:00.002+08:00

"Let's fuck this Scrabble and just fuck already."
- Overheard from the same newly married woman.

Random Quote

2008-02-25T14:09:00.002+08:00

"Marital rape rocks!"
- Overheard from a newly married woman.

情人节

2008-02-14T16:26:00.002+08:00

"Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps"

The Cupids are out in full force once again.
Pink balloons, stuffed teddy bears, hearts on cards, scarlet roses...

T'is the season of love, or so they say.

Matters not to me. Being stubbornly uxorious, I need no special occasion like Valentine's Day to express my eternal love for my dearest. But since the whole town's painted pink, and everything on the tv and radio's inundated with love-inspired themes, we've decided (quite readily) to celebrate the occasion with a dinner in the comforts of our little love nest.

Can hardly wait to savour her..... uh-hum, delicious cooking later tonight. =)

As Shakespeare put it so aptly, "The course of true love never did run smooth".

Thanks for all the love you shower me with, dear.
~Happy Valentine's Day~

Moving on

2008-01-28T22:30:00.000+08:00

December was a month during which I experienced quite a myriad of feelings. Such was the velocity of the emotional rollercoaster that I now find myself unable to detail the exact ups and downs.

There were significant sessions of merry-making all in the mood of the festive season; but the underlying grief proved hard to undermine. Nevertheless, there's plenty of upsides in the last month of '07, I feel. For instance, being able to actually spend time with my best pals was deeply rewarding on my part. Thoroughly enjoyed the company, as brief as it was, and I'm definitely looking forward to our next carnivorous rendezvous.

On the academic front, it must be said that I've yet to put my foot on the right path. Two quickfire rounds of tests saw myself putting in an utterly disgraceful amount of effort on both occasions. The results weren't abysmal, yet. Did manage to secure distinction grades for all my subjects, but so did almost everyone else. I do sense the familiar insipid mood inside me whenever confronted with examinations of some sort. I'd attribute this to the complete lack of interest in what I'm doing, but I wouldn't allow it. It's too weak an excuse, and anyway, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I know beyond all doubts that it's high time to step up to the plate and hit that home-run which has been threatening to materialise for years now; but my proverbial inability to concentrate on the task at hand might be my greatest achilles heel yet. Such is the impasse I find myself in, again, that I am beginning to imagine that the great Mr Sia might just not be that great afterall. Like what they always say, Time will tell... am just afraid it won't be a pretty story to be told in the end. I can only hope that in due time, I'd have the 'Wisdom to See, Will to Choose, and Strength to Endure'...

On a somewhat different note, our lovenest is barely a week away from completion. The final renovations are underway, and the bulk of the furniture would be in by end of this week (fingers crossed). The missus has been buzzing with unbridled excitement for weeks now, thus I can imagine just how pleased she'd be come the actual moving in. Having said that, the entire process leading up to this date hasn't been a bed of roses. Well, actually it has been, if you just consider the fucking thorns entailed with those damn flowers. Everything (and I do mean it quite literally) that could possibly fuck up, fucked up. It seemed like an inextricable web of cock-ups we were stuck in. Nevertheless, we stuck by it and to a pretty large extent, enjoyed the whole hullabaloo over the tiniest of details. So yes, we are now a happy lot, albeit severely drained - physically, emotionally, and financially. But what the heck, we are days away from a place we call home. *smirks*

Oh, Happy Lunar New Year to one and all. May the new year brings with it loads of warmth, prosperity and good health, wherever you might be.

Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Another Eternal Reposal

2007-12-13T12:09:00.000+08:00

My maternal Grandpa left us on the 4th of December 2007. That was last Tuesday.

Having battled cancers for a few years now, he was admitted to hospital on Monday due to the various side effects of his medication/chemotherapy. Certainly things weren't looking good, what with the high fevers and diarrhea. But come Tuesday morning, his symptoms subsided and it seemed that the worst was over.

The dramatic change of events that followed took everyone by surprise.
His multiple body organs were failing. His systems were going down.
The malignant cancerous cells plaguing him for years have managed to apply the final thrust of the knife inside him.

Phonecalls were made. Everyone was rushing down to the hospital.

I will always remember seeing him on the hospital bed, with virtually no breathing left in him, barely hanging on via life support. It was as though he knew my Grandma was on her way down... rushing to see him for the last time.

We knew there was no hope.
Yet, all of us were silently praying against the inevitable.

Shortly after everyone arrived, he left.

It was a shock to everyone. We knew the day would come - but it was much earlier than anyone expected, possibly to Grandpa himself too.

There was simply no time to come to terms with it. We were hit right smack in the face. Noone saw it coming.

The next 7 days which ensued could only be summed up as a whirlwind week of sorts for everyone. Everyone's in a state of grief and sorrow. The funeral drained whatever little energy left in our dreary minds.

I'd never forget the times I stood next to his coffin, looking at him, talking to him. He looked so serene. Perhaps my relatives were right - his hastened exit spared him the pains he would have had to go through in the final stages of his cancer.
And we're glad for him.

Lying there, motionless, he did look like he was taking a nap. Resting.

My grandpa was one who was full of life, always brimming with vitality.
I grew up with my grandparents as a child, and memories of the times spent with my grandpa as a kid came flooding back endlessly throughout the past week.
And everytime I realise he's no longer around, tears just pour from within me.
It was painful to see the vigour in him getting sapped out by cancers over recent years. But he was ever so full of love towards each and every single one of the family despite his condition.

The whole family deeply mourns his passing.
His departure was way too sudden for us to swallow.
And I realise, this immense grief shared amongst his offsprings stems from the fact that... we all miss him so, so much.

The things he'd do, the things he'd say.

Around exactly a year back, my god-grandfather passed away.
I dedicated a post to him that time.

"You always hear people telling you how fragile a commodity life is. And as much as we agree with them, we also never seem to fail forgetting the need to treasure life, and cherish the ones around you."

"Treasuring life isn't prolonging your existence, nor extending the lifespans of our loved ones. It is making sure you get the most out of it while you can. Give as much love as you have inside to those that matters, take in all the experiences and lessons in life with open arms."

"There are always more than one way to look at things, and I can't help but feel the loss of a kin is a blessing in itself. When family gets together and share the common grief plaguing everyone's mourning hearts, the blood bond that ties just gets stronger amidst the sorrow. Having drawn a definitive end to his... journey, it is time for everyone to move on, and continue writing colourful chapters of our own journey."

We know we ought to move on. Grandpa wouldn't wish to see us in such a state of sorrow.

But we really, really miss you, Gong-gong.

I hope my grandpa left this world knowing he left behind many children and grandchildren who loved, love, and will love him, mourn him, and remember him.
I know he knows.

Gong-gong... Rest in Peace!

Apologies

2007-12-10T21:34:00.000+08:00

Never intended to not update my blog for such an extended period of time. Honestly.

Was caught up in a less-important-than-what-was-originally-thought bout of 'exams' (which I did fare pretty decently, especially in the light of how last-minute the revisions I put in were). That took up the bulk of the early part of November.

Was also swarmed with lessons for my two primary school tuition kids, whose end-of-year exams HAD to coincide with my tests aforementioned.

Was then hit with what could only be summed up as an extremely surreal and painful week of December. Will definitely be putting up a proper post on that tomorrow.

Was, was ,was.

Now that I've time for a breather (Ok, not entirely true, since I'd just missed a full week of lectures and tutorials, which incidentally is the week building up to my 2nd round of exams starting next Monday - and yes, yet to start any form of preparations on that), it's due time to make an update of sorts.

I'm really, really sorry to my dearest friend Mr Alex for not replying to the comment left on my previous posting. I did read through it, right after the email you sent to me, may I add. Quite a few times too. The sincerity of your message was deeply felt by yours truly, and I really thank you for the very kind words. How true that heartfelt blessings and genuine compliments are far and few between. I'm extremely glad that the bond of friendship I feel between us is mutual.

To Keng and TH, perhaps I haven't said this enough (if at all), but in the ~~short~~ span of time we spent together during our good ol' OSC days, noone else comes close to you guys. Hardly have I met anyone else who've so readily extended the hand of friendship towards me, and I really am thankful for the opportunity to have gotten to know you guys. Most often I've thought of how are you fellas getting along, and thinking to myself just how much I miss the companionship of you two. Personally, I've never used the term 'buddy' loosely - I am always too keen to draw the difference between superficial friendship and true friends. With you people, there's never a doubt that you guys are the buddies I'll treasure for life.

Thanks so much once again for all the well wishes! I really appreciate it. Although I wish each one of you could've been present at my engagement, I'm heartened to learn that I'm not just another forgotten face in your memories. In case you're wondering, me and my missus is getting along just fine. ;)

I really cannot wait for an opportunity to catch up with you guys again. But fuck it, let's make one, instead of waiting for a chance to land on our laps (and possibly carelessly letting it fly by again). We should seriously arrange for a one-times-good-one get-together session. Alex, when ya headin' back? Give all of us a ring ya. I really doubt it, but just in case things fall in place, I might be able to host our little gathering of sorts at my new lovenest in the near future. :)

In any case till then, you guys have my number.

Husband and Wife

2007-11-04T02:27:00.000+08:00

Random conversation overheard between a newlywed couple at 1am in the morning.

Man: Sex?
Woman: Hmmm...
Man: (grins) Let's.
Woman: I'd love to but it's so late.. I don't have the time and the energy now..
Man: But I do! :(
Woman: Well, you can go fuck yourself then. :)
Man: ...

Memories

2007-10-16T14:26:00.000+08:00

Chanced upon this old pic...

Just Married!

2007-09-19T16:14:00.000+08:00

The day I've been waiting for finally dawned upon me.

9th of September 2007...

We woke up with so many butterflies in our stomachs, we could hardly have appetite for any breakfast, nor lunch. Excitement and anxiety proved a very potent concoction - each passing second was a tiny step closer to the special moment we're looking forward to.

And it was with brimming anticipation we packed all the barang-barang and made our way over to my grandparents' place, which was the venue picked to host our engagement ceremony.

A quick glance at the skies indicated good news. Clear and sunny it was. So far so good.

So we arrived at 23 Yunnan Drive 2 shortly after noon. Still 5 hours to go. Or rather, just 5 hours left, we realised. For one moment we were sitting around, going over the plans for the evening and ironing out details with family members who would be helping us out... and the next, it was all rushing and dashing everywhere.

First, the decor people reached and promptly went about giving the place a makeover. Chairs and tables, flowers and bells and ribbons... all expertly put into place in the blink of an eye. With the make-up artist busy dolling up my lovely wife-to-be, the food caterer showed up. Buffet line was set up, and the sound system was in place. And before we knew it, it was almost 1700hrs and guests began to arrive.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, our esteemed wedding solemnizer Mr Soon made his arrival at 1725hrs. We were set to go!!

With all our relatives and friend's cheering and clapping, in the backdrop of our 'special song', we made our way down the aisle... It was pure magic. Watching it countless of times on tv and movies is nothing close to experiencing it first-hand. There she was, looking absolutely gorgeous, as we marched slowly hand-in-hand.. rained with confetti and greeted with beaming smiles from all around us.

I'm not sure about her, but I was so nervous I fumbled with the microphone during the start of the solemnization ceremony. I vividly recall my heart thumping hard against my chest as the solemnizer began the proceedings. I remember saying my vows in the presence of everyone, knowing deep down inside that I meant every single word.

I have always wanted to, and have now finally taken her to be my lawfully wedded wife. I have always cherished and treasured her, and I will from now on continue to do so.

As we slipped on the wedding rings for each other, I know that we will be together for the rest of our lives.

As we kissed, I know that a brand new chapter of our lives has just begun.

I marry you, not just because it makes me happy - but because I want to give you happiness for the rest of your life. Till death do us part, I will shower you with all my love.

They say a picture says a thousand words, so here are some of the many photos taken on the day itself. =)

~~WE ARE MARRIED!~~

Will you....

2007-08-14T03:51:00.000+08:00

Slightly more than 24 hours back, I popped the question.

In all honesty, it didn't happen the way that's usually portrayed in movies. And the 'question' wasn't exactly 'popped'.

There weren't any abruptness about it. Not a great deal of surprise element involved, but it was of sufficient significance to make it a night to remember.

She said yes.

And that only meant one thing to me - that till the day I die, I shall cherish and treasure her love for me.

I plan to devote the rest of my life taking care of her, and I shall make that pledge come the 9th of next month.

I thanked her with a silent embrace, sealed with a kiss. I'm overjoyed that she has given me the chance to give her happiness. I'm flattered that she's willing to put her trust in me - that I can, and will, be a most excellent husband.

And so, I brace myself to shoulder this responsibility of making sure her faith placed in me isn't done so in vain.

I am going to do my utmost best to provide for all her needs and wants. I know I will be making sacrifices along the way, and I'm more than pleased to do just that.

I do fear that at times I'd falter. I would never want to see her hurt in any way. But I can only pray she'll be patient and give me the chance to learn along the way.
Learn how to be the perfect husband.

We both know the path wouldn't be rosy - but we are glad at least we'll have each other for company no matter the number of obstacles ahead.

For now, I'm revelling in the renewed delight of being her significant other. Everytime I catch her admiring the ring on her finger adoringly out of the corner of my eye, I am filled with pride and joy that this beautiful, young woman is going to be my wife.

I have no idea why I deserve such a wonderful girl like her. Perhaps I'd never find out why Fate brought her back to my side 7 years ago. But I'm thankful it happened.

Sweet Fan O' Mine

2007-07-30T16:46:00.000+08:00

I received this SMS on my handphone earlfer today from someone who wishes to remain anonymous. I would love to divulge the exact contents of the message, but since I promised her not to, (and I do not wish to incite violence on my blog) I shall give a brief, edited version instead.

The sender of the sms identified herself as an avid fan of my blog, and claims that reading my entries tickles her senses and triggers off unexplainable mini-orgasms. Apparently, my dry wit and intense humour is her 'cup of tea'. She goes on to elaborate on how much she idolises me, and ends off by pleading with me to blog more often. It appears the lack of constant updates is seriously causing her much distress and she's hoping I can do something about it in order to satiate her incessant cravings.

After taking into consideration ~~her offer to 'service my manhood' in all ways possible~~ her gentle and sincere pleas, I felt this inexplicable source of strength deep within me... this surge of power.. an urge to do my utmost best to repay the, erm, 'faith' shown from this fan of mine.

Hence, I am here, blogging. :)

Ready, Set...

2007-07-27T14:30:00.000+08:00

Time has this habit of dragging its feet during the worst times of your life, and then sprint on tip-toes whenever your head is turned. And whenever I accidentally stumble onto one of my numerous FHM calendars and realise the date, I'm left flabbergasted at how much time has flew by. My confusion grows when I compare it to how excruciatingly long it felt back in my secondary school days when a girl infatuated with me forced herself and locked lips with me for 5 minutes. Yes, I digress.

So, I passed my practical driving test on the 25th July 2007. So I'm now a qualified driver... and I am absolutely over the moon. Obtaining this driver's license wasn't a smooth ride at all. Truckloads of time, money and sweat I've invested; Oh yes - and blood too, when I bit down on my lip hard to stop myself from flinching when the tester placed his sweaty paws on my left thigh during my driving test...
But, it was all worthwhile. No biggie that I'm not financially ready to head down to the nearest showroom and test-drive my dream car. At least now I know when all else fail, I can always be a taxi-driver.

Schooling days will be upon me once again in a matter of weeks now. I am so not ready. But I will be. Plans are already being drafted - I will recondition my eyes to be well-trained enough to spot out pretty girls within a radius of 50 metres.

Oh, and it's less than half a year left before we move into our Lakeshore apartment. I faintly recall my darling successfully persuading me into agreeing to teach her how to swim after we shift house. (It's hard to say no 'at times')
Ha! Little does she know that it's merely a ploy of mine to get her in that tiny bikini.

I also know that she can't wait for me to propose, and sweep her off her feet with the ~~tiny~~brilliant diamond ring in my custody. I, too, can't wait to slip the ring onto her finger and have her become my first ~~wife~~ and only wife. She's even resorted to bribing me by allowing me to have a ~~all~~no-holds-barred bachelor party before our engagement.
Hmm... Scantily-clad strippers and free flow of alcohol? I was reluctant, but I eventually gave in.

But I'm not letting her know when I'm planning to propose to her, yet. She's been trying all ways to get a clue, like whispering in my ears.. asking me questions in my sleep... trying to fish for an answer from my subconscious. Not that easy!

Seriously though, I can't wait myself either.
But something's holding me back.
A force of some sort.
I'm not sure what...

On a completely unrelated note, did you guys know that Jessica Alba just dumped her boyfriend and is now single? Ho-hum.

Oh yes, where was I again...

Finally

2007-07-26T09:04:00.000+08:00

Head above waters

2007-06-26T14:58:00.000+08:00

Ashamedly so, I realise that it has been more than a month since my last entry.

I do kind of regret not having made the efforts to pay a visit here and record down the numerous events that took place in the space of the past 45 days. For there must have been moments of happiness that are noteworthy - yet slipped off my recently less-than-lucid mind, and promptly whisked away by the ubiquitous tendrils of Time. And what is left behind when I finally stand in front of the blackboard with a chalk in hand, are fragments of disheartenment and despondency. Very large, jagged fragments. Not unlike shards of glass... with protrusions all-around waiting for flesh to gnash on.

After getting through the somewhat mandatory round of interview, I was accepted into the course for a Diploma for Economics in SIM. And unsurprisingly, I can't seem to be able to embrace the good news with much positivity. That's not to say I didn't get any satisfaction from gaining entry; I was delighted at someone offering me a second chance, staggering amounts of cash to be paid for tuition fees notwithstanding. Yet, it wasn't the sense of fulfillment I thought I'd experience.

It felt like a child who lost his chocolate bar, and then a kind soul came along and offered him a lollipop. It was enough compensation to put a stop to the sobbing, but not quite sufficient to replace the beaming smile that was once on his face when he had his chocolate.

I know this is the chance I have to grab, and hold onto dearly. This would be the only rope I have that offers me the opportunity to haul myself out of murky waters I find myself submerged in thus far. While my peers are looking down at me from high above, safe from the choppy waters beneath them, here I am, drained from the toil of trying to stay afloat for the past months.

This rope, ought to be the reprieve that I needed, that will snap me out of the numbness that envelops my senses on a daily basis.
But I sense a potential falling.. an inevitable failing.. should I attempt to pull myself upwards.
The flesh is weak, and the mind is in a condoning mood.

News of my maternal Grandfather's health report was a sharp jab I wasn't ready for.
Now that we all know my Grandfather's health would be deteriorating sharply anytime in the very near future, there are some changes with regards to my marriage plans. We will now tie the knot on the 9th of September this year. And we can only pray he will have the strength to fight and stick around till I marry his grand-daughter-in-law-to-be.

What's a rant from a man without some lamentations of ailing finances eh? Reserves are running low - and seeing as to how insubstantial is the amount I started out with, that's really not good at all. I'm desperate for a few bouts of drinking sessions with a dear friend of mine. I'm in dire need of the temporary respite a good dose of alcohol can bring me. Alas.

Haven't really been able to get any decent sleep for weeks now. And I attribute this to the 101 things flipping through my mind on repeat mode whenever I hit the sack. It's like, residual worrying from day-time, except in copious amounts.

There's the driving lessons (which I've been procrastinating) and practical test (which I'm surprisingly dreading) coming up. School starts in a month. The engagement's 2 months away. Moving place within the next half of the year. Proper wedding reception in a year's time. I need a windfall, hopefully anytime this week.

On a contrastingly different note, I brought her shopping for our engagement rings last week. And since we were at it, I told her to go ahead and pick out a diamond ring she fancied and I'll get it as the proposal ring she's been dying to have. Although the total costs of the 3 rings are nothing to shout about, but it was financially cripppling enough for me. Fortunately though, I could sense her genuine joy. The look of bliss on her face, that tells me she can't wait to be my missus. That, made it all worthwhile.

And dear, if you happen to be reading this, just want you to know something.

I'll always give you the best of everything. When I don't, it's not because I won't, but because I can't.

Breaking News...

2007-05-11T15:44:00.000+08:00

Two Singaporeans among four killed in Taiwan military jet crash

TAIPEI - Two Taiwanese fighter pilots and two Singaporean servicemen were killed Friday when a F-5F jet crashed into a military compound during an exercise, defence minister Lee Jye said on Friday.

The warplane crashed 30 minutes after take-off from an air base in the southeast of the island during a simulation of a ground attack, according to the defense ministry.

The two Singaporean servicemen were killed and two others hurt when the jet crashed into the complex where they were staying while participating in a training programme, Lee told reporters.

The pair killed were not taking part in Friday's drill, Lee said, adding that the cause of the crash was under investigation.

All remaining F-5F fighters participating in the drill -- 60 or so -- were immediately grounded, but Lee said the live-fire "Han Kuang (Han Glory) 23" manoeuvres would go on as scheduled next week.

Taiwan prepares to showcase its military strength, beginning next Monday, in five days of exercises designed to test its defence capabilities against rival China. - AFP/ir

Source: http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/275537/1/.html

Check this out:
http://thenhbushman.blogspot.com/2007/05/5371.html

Quote:
"I also want to give my personal take on the incident. I saw the jet in its final moments. The pilots had time to eject. They chose not to. Instead, they flew their aircraft into the ground on the base, thus sparing countless hundreds of lives in the crowded Hukou area that would have been lost in the crash and subsequent explosion."

R.I.P to the two who lost their lives, condolences to their families.
Hope the two other injured comrades pull through...

Dry Spell

2007-04-30T18:48:00.000+08:00

Indeed.

Haven't anything to blog about. Is it me not wanting to flood this virtual diary of mine with an overdose of gloom? Is it that there has been absolutely nothing worth jotting down in my little online notebook?

It has not been the case of me not wanting to blog, mind you.
There have been so many occasions over the course of the past two weeks whereby I've logged in here, and then made my exit in exasperation.

I so want to rant and rant and rant, maybe even squeeze in a couple of smiles or two, but it just feels like heading to the KTV with a very sore throat and half-baked voice. Didn't feel right, and didn't see the point.

I'm just glad April's over. May the month of May bring along with it some cheer.

The Final Countdown

2007-04-16T15:56:00.000+08:00

3 days before I conquer the roads of Bukit Batok, Choa Chu Kang and Teck Whye.

If you are wondering why on earth is this joker making this driving test into such a big deal, well it's because.... IT IS.

So. I'm going to go shopping afterwards for my 4-inch black heels, as well as a micro mini skirt. I'll probably go topless for good measure as well.

And on the test day itself, I'll be sure to give the tester a wink before proceedings get underway. Plus a couple of 'accidental' brushes with his thigh when I reach for the clutch...

Easy. Confirm can one.

Jitters

2007-04-09T08:24:00.000+08:00

The Good Friday last week lived up to its name. Waking up bright and early to a beautiful morning, the whole family headed straight to East Coast Park for a picnic. Weather was good - the sun was out, skies clear. Despite wasting a good hour on 'inter-waiting' and deciding on which bloody carpark to park at, we kickstarted the picnic pretty much on time. Incidentally, I found it terribly amusing and baffling for my aunts and uncles driving luxury cars to try for carparks with 'free parking'. Scooting around in their Mercedes and can't even bear to part with a few miserable dollars?

Anyway, am glad that we did NOT forgo convenience for the sake of 'free parking' at some carpark. Gotta admit enjoyed getting some fresh air by the beach. Thoroughly immersed myself in a session of football with cousins. Having the sand beneath you and the hearing the crescendo of waves coming in is indeed a good way to spend a holiday. The place was way too crowded though. Pick up a rock and hurl it in any direction and chances were you'd hit a cyclist, or two.

Was bummed about having a circuit driving session sceduled on a bloody holiday, but spirits were significantly improved by my darling's idea of whipping up a long overdue STEAK dinner for the 2 of us at home. So while I grudgingly headed off for Gombak in the afternoon, she made her way to pick up the ingredients at Cold Storage. I learnt that day, that a solution for a pounding headache is to return home to see your dear greet you with a huge smile, whilst burying herself in the kitchen preparing you a scrumptous dinner.

Steak was most excellent again. Sauteed onions and mushrooms were delicious as expected. And her try at the pan-fried portabella mushrooms proved to be a rewarding one as well. Sensing my all-round approval with the spread on offer, she declared with zero ounce of humility "I'm such a good cook!" - and I refused to disagree for the sake of my stomach's future well-being.

Saturday was spent at Jurong Point, and of course we didn't return home empty-handed. Perhaps what's appalling was that among the goods purchased, none of them were shoes. I'm still confused as to what happened really. Sunday was a simple affair of chilling at home, filled with er, simple activities of simple pleasures. Caught an uneventful F1 race on tv, and dear busied herself with intense research on her Project DuaPekGong (inside joke). Finished the day with a Dvd of Willy Wonka - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Upon completing the second viewing of this show, I still stand by my review of it being a 'warped' and 'dark' intepretation of the story. Still an excellent show though, especially for ardent Roald Dahl fans like my dear is.

You see, what happens when you start blogging when there isn't really much to blog about is you start blabbling, droning on and on about inconsequential ongoings that noone really cares much for. I just realised I have completely ignored what I really wanted to talk about as reflected by the title of this post.

Practical's in a week's time. There you go.

I'm quite perturbed by the fact that I'm still making glaring mistakes while driving when it's so fucking close to doomsday. The statistic of just a third of all private candidates passing their driving practical test does not sit well with me. I know I can operate a bloody Class 3 vehicle already. But to actually do it well enough?

I mean, it's one thing to be aware of the fact that you know how to fuck. But to be confident of being good enough to please a woman in bed, that's a different story.

I'm just getting so tired of this constant niggling at the back of my mind. I cannot wait to get it over and done with, and close this troublesome chapter for good.
I am clueless as to why such a multi-talented driver like myself is getting knots in the stomach just thinking of the impending test day.

Maybe it's the pressure from everyone around me to expect me to pass. Maybe it's the stress I've unwittingly placed on myself to perform. Maybe it's because of how I'm hating the prospect of having to go through more weeks of waiting and spending precious time and money.

But trust my dear to offer me words of encouragement. She said to me something last night, and immediately I felt a significant boost in my confidence level.

"Dear, don't worry too much ok? Even Alex this kind of driver also can pass on his first attempt what right...?"

Class 3 license. Bring it on.

Parents

2007-03-26T14:13:00.000+08:00

Coming from a 'Chinese' family background, I've got a set of parents who have never told me just how special I am, or how much they love me. Obviously, as the saying goes, all parents love their children, it's just the ways in which they express their love that differs.

Needless to say, I reciprocated their 'upbringing' by never having told them how much they mean to me, or how much I love them, or how much I thank them for raising me. Not because I don't, but because some things that aren't said between members in a family remain unsaid. And I do not intend to break that trend in the near future.

Am I an unfilial son? Perhaps.

Let's see. I started out as a bundle of disaster. An appendicitis when I was barely 4 months old! Complications from that surgery to remove my appendix led to another operation when I was 1 year old. Talk about an emotional roller-coaster I provided for family and relatives even before I could walk. Not bad for a first child eh?

I went on to become a considerably bright child. Shy, but blessed with sufficient intellect to score well in primary school exams. Breezed through those years without doing any assessment books bought for me, aced my PSLE without any shred of revision done. For starters, I'm sure I would've made my parents proud. In fact, relatives and distant relatives are certain of that too. But never once did my dad or mom told me 'well done, son'. Never once was I promised any rewards in any forms for my early academic achievements, and predictably, never did I received any.

I recall friends in school quizzing me on what presents my parents bought for me, or whether they're bringing me to any Disneylands for the holidays since I always did well in all exam papers. That got me confused. Hmm, rewards? That obviously was beyond my parents' vocabulary. I've never even gotten a 'pat on the back' for being top in class, top in school. It was from then on that I began thinking I might be getting a little shortchanged here.

My mom disapproved of toys. Yes you heard right. ANY toys at all is a no-no. Not that it stopped relatives from getting me some on special occasions, but that meant my toys collection was restricted to a very limited variety and quantity. Now I was getting really disorientated. I've got cousins getting shit results year in year out and still getting truckloads of toys. How come I can't get any of the things I want?

During get-togethers and reunion dinners or whenever we meet up with relatives, one of their all-time favourite questions to ask me was "how did you do for your exams". Irritating, yes. But I answered nonetheless, my replies usually met with showers of praise for me being 'so clever' - which did make me quite shy. At moments like these, I always stole glances at my parents, hoping to milk out a look of pride on their faces. Hoping to catch a glimpse of faces that yell "I'm proud of my son". As it turns out I would have better luck trying to ask for a one-night-stand with Alessandra Ambrosio.

I realised, eventually, that being a kid below 12 years of age, when doing well in school doesn't warrant some sort of recognition from your own parents, either school isn't really that important afterall, or you're being taken for granted by parents who don't care enough.

I proceeded onto secondary school. Expectedly, they weren't all that impressed with me gaining entry into the top school in Singapore, with ease may I add. Come on, even strangers gave me the recognition I'm due when they learnt of my academic results. So, it does look as if it's not a big deal for mom and dad. Bah.

Puberty took over, pretty literally. From a goody-two-shoes mommy's boy, I transformed overnight into a free-willed, single-minded teenager who craved for independence and demanded freedom (otherwise known to some as a juvenile delinquent).
I treated my parents with little or no respect most of the time. Not because I thought it was 'cool' or the 'right thing to do' or because I could and get away with it. Rather, in retrospect, I did so because I didn't know how else to behave.

My attitude towards family members was atrocious at best. I was rude, disrespectful, and disobedient. I got no respect from them, and wasn't planning to show any for them. It was nothing malicious really. I spoke only when spoken to. Sometimes I don't even respond. I retaliate, verbally of course, when they insist on being 'right' when they aren't. I refused to oblige to any requests nor conform to any rules. There was nothing they could've done to stop me.

Or was there?

Not even once, in my entire life, did my parents sit me down and talk to me about my studies. I've never been briefed on the importance of PSLE, O'levels, A'levels. I did not even know wtf those terms were until I came face to face with the exam papers. My peers offered me more insight into my future than they did. I never understood why I needed to study, to do well. I never was once shown the bigger picture. Not by my parents anyway. Not before it's too late as well.

Which kind of led me to become the person I was in my JC days. I was non-existent in lectures, and sometimes even tutorials. Needless to say, my below-standard O'levels results (catastrophic from where I came from) were followed by wasting 3 years of my time in a JC I didn't really graduate from.

Perhaps one can sense my disgruntledness at my parents uninvolvement in my life. That's right. I am.

I blamed them for everything, not because it was the easier thing to do, but because for everything I was at fault for, they were doubly responsible. I was never asked about what I wanted, never taught how to go about getting it. I was never offered words of encouragement (can't say the same for words of criticisms). They've never been there for me when I needed them the most, but their presence are always felt when I least wanted them.

If I were to become a parent, I'd take up an insurance policy and a savings plan for my kid, save up for his education fees, send him for any extra-curricular lessons he wishes to go for, save up for his needs, probably till his marriage before letting him fend for himself and his family.

I'm not suggesting that all parents who can't afford the financial costs of a child's needs are bad parents. There are other ways to becoming a good parent. And if you can't fulfill any of them, you best have a damn good reason.

The problem is, my parents don't.

I do understand that my family has a very low monthly income. Having a low income does not translate to not making plans for your own future, and your child's future. Having no savings whatsoever isn't excusable, not unless there are financial crippling factors present. Having to work does not justify the absence of emotional support for a child growing up.

What I expect of parents is for them to give their best. Whether it falls short eventually or not is not their fault, but not putting in the required level of effort into raising their child is.

I am sad to admit, they I am not planning on professing my love for my parents anytime soon. I am full of gratitude towards them for giving me life, for raising me.
I respect their decisions taken along the way, but that's not to say I agree with the decisions. I love and respect my mom and dad like I ought to, but I can't make myself overlook their obvious shortcomings as parents.

With me now looking to enter a brand new phase of my life in the very near future, sad to say, there is still no hint of the support I am desperate for. Aside from contributing to the stress level and pressure I'm facing, my parents are doing me as much help as a lemon does in a barfight.

Come the day I leave my parents and lead the life that I'm in serach for, I will miss them dearly. But I also know that there will be many silver linings.

Change

2007-03-24T10:44:00.000+08:00

When I was younger, I hated the cliche "The only constant is change".
Okay, I still hate it, but nowadays, it appears that there is little choice but to resign to the fact that the saying's as true as they come.

When we were still the young and innocent kids, boys liked the girls who looked pretty with long hair, and girls liked boys who were smart.

And then when everyone grows up, men still like pretty girls, only now legs, boobs, and ass all are taken into consideration. Girls obviously still like intelligent men, but now they are also particular about how much they earn, what car they drive.

That, my friend, is change for you.

As the days go by, I find myself agreeing with alarming frequency at how I've changed, as a person. Character, personality, temperament, ideals, ambitions.

My horoscope for the month says there is a more than healthy chance of me losing my memory in a freak accident whereby six naked 18 year old gorgeous girls will scramble for my affections, resulting in a near suffocation and me passing out (not before being feasted on by them of course). Hence I thought it would be a cool idea to blog about, well - myself, so that when what is going to happen eventually happens, I can come here and read about the person I was.

I'm an introvert. Hardly any arguments about this revelation I think. Never been one to strike up conversations with strangers (or pick-up girls, since I usually wait for them to come ask for my number), I've never been comfortable in ice-breaking sessions throughout schooling years. Shy by nature, I avoid situations whereby I'd become the centre of attention (predicaments similar to my horoscope predictions notwithstanding) for fear of embarrassing myself one way or another. Nervous when spoken to, my voice wavers, my face and ears go red, and my limbs go cold.
15 years down the road, I'm still essentially an introvert. I'm still adverse to initiating conversations unless the odd chiobu comes along. The difference now is I actually have learnt to mask my fear. I now would be in a better position to speak in public, not because I'm no longer petrified, but rather I am curbing any incipient fears, not allowing them to manifest and affect me. It took years, but the ability to voice my views has inevitably projected myself as a person with more confidence than before.

I'm a humourous person. At least that's what I firmly believe, and fuck you if you insist otherwise. In this regard, one might think there is no change involved over the years - I'm still as hilarious as ever. Well, you're wrong. I've grown to be twice as witty with double the sarcasm inside of me. Changed.

I used to have a temper that's, hmm. Let's just say, calamitous. I'm the fairly amicable fellow under normal circumstances. But when people step out of line and rub me the wrong way, they get to see a very, very ugly side of me. I had a rage inside that's unrivalled. There was no parallel to the fury unleashed onto the unknowing. And because of my immaturity tagged to my tender age, I allowed this catastrophic temper of mine to cause much hurt and pain - to those who deserved it, as well as those who don't (regrettably of course).
1.5 decades on, I am still the amiable friend to those who bother. I've never been much of a hostile individual, though I hate to admit I've received countless feedbacks from friends which suggest otherwise. I just LOOK stand-offish. Now, I no longer let my wild temper roam unbridled. When people step out of line, I make sure they know what I think about it. And if they insist on a repeat performance, I saw off their legs. And when people rub me the wrong way, I patiently teach them the right way to rub me first.
I've learnt that anger does not solve problems. It is merely a way to address them. Admittedly it does, at times, prove to be the bridge to the resolution of an issue. But with the maturity nurtured with increasing age, I also realise every single time my emotions get the better of me, I will only regret it thereafter and make it a point to not resort to such familiar territory as far as possible.

When I was a little boy in primary school, all I wanted was to outdo the irritatingly industrious chaps and top the class every single time. Oh yes, I also wanted the girls I liked to like me back. And more pocket money. And for someone, ANYONE, to buy me toys I wanted but never got. And a Sega game console (actually I did receive that as a gift from my dad eventually, which of course, was greeted by my mom's over-the-top disapprovals. Which resulted in me never ever having more than the 3 game titles which came with the initial purchase).

When I was a teenager in secondary school, all I wanted was to play soccer. And to own a handphone (had to suffice with a pager eventually). More pocket money. Contact lenses. Play soccer. And have sex with all the stuck up RGS girls and slutty CHIJ girls and girl-next-door Nanyang girls and classy SCGS girls... And stab ACS boys. And play soccer. And a Playstation. (which again my dad got me as a gift one birthday, and predictably was met with the over-the-top disapprovals from my mom).

When I was in JC, all I wanted was to get more money. Betting on soccer, gambling with poker cards, investing in Singapore Pools were various channels I devoted significant time and money in. Oh, I also wanted to stab my maths teacher.

When I was in NS, all I wanted was to ORD.

Now, what do I want? I want to own a car, buy a house, buy a 'big, shiny' diamond ring, and marry the love of my life. And naturally, I want to have the financial capabilities to actually do all that. And to achieve that, I need either:
1) a job that pays a shitload of cash for very little work done, which translates to large amounts of savings over a short period of time
2) a job that pays a shitload of cash for a considerable amount of work responsibility, which translates to large amounts of savings over a short period of time
3) a job that pays a shitload of cash for the crazy workloads involved, which translates to large amounts of savings over a short period of time
4) a job that pays too-fucking-little for -insert irrelevant varying degrees of work responsibility-, which translates to puny amounts of savings over a -insert irrelevant carying lengths of time involved-
5) strike lottery.

In an ideal circumstance, coupled with my insurmountable inborn talents, I would opt for options (1), (2), or (5).
In a not-so-ideal circumstance, coupled with my insuperable innate skills, I would settle for (2), (3), or (5).
In a seriously fucked up circumstance, coupled with my irresistable charms, enviable intellect and covetable drive and passion, I would go for (5).

But in reality, I'm staring at a (4).

I recalled the days when I was very young, probably during the first week of primary one, I was asked to write a composition. It was the much dreaded "My Ambition". I remember glancing around, watching some retarded classmates writing fervently while I struggled to put together anything. Perhaps it had to do with me not being able to get past the first fucking sentence. I didn't know what I wanted to be.

I've always been tickled by the thought of my fellow peers having silly dreams of 'When I grow up, I want to be an astronaut' and stuffs like that. I mean, seriously. But, desperation forced me to actually CONSIDER penning that down as my ambition. Common sense prevailed.

I eventually settled on my decision - a lawyer. Not because I was influenced by anyone in my family who was a lawyer. Not because lawyers generally earn obscene amounts of money. Not because lawyers are commonly known as dickheads. But because I thought being a lawyer was cool. No, really.

And as years went by and I grew up, that 'ambition' of mine got chucked somewhere in the closet and I stumble onto that memory and give myself a laugh from time to time. Until when I had semi-graduated from pre-tertiary education did I realise, 'Hey, I really want to be a lawyer."

That revelation was followed immediately with a 'Oh fuck.' Because it was a tad too late for anything to be done. I had breezed by my salad days not giving two hoots about the distinctions that came my way or eluded me.

So I thought fine, so much for being a lawyer. It's alright. Just like not being able to pursue my interests in playing the guitar and speaking French, I had to suck thumb and throw the entire notion aside. Okay, but I still need to find a way to make money!

Bummer.

It's always frustrating to realise mistakes made. People say that to err is human. So long as you learn from them, that's all that matters.

Fucking bullshit.

That's totally inapplicable in today's society. Try telling the judge "I'm sorry for what I've done. I will never stab little children's eyeballs ever again. I promise not to sexually violate my friends in future." Heck, even pleading guilty to stealing from a CD store won't be of much help. You will be marked, stamped, and branded forever. For a mistake.

Personally I feel that the magnitudes of mistakes are measured not by the actions, but the consequences.

Anyway.

Actually, at the end of the day, what I'm really trying to say, is that... I hate changes.

Changes force people to move out of their comfort zones. And not everyone will be able to relocate to a new comfort zone. Some get left behind.
Changes force people to make adjustments in their lives. Ideals and directions get shifted gradually or abruptly, depending on how malleable an individual is.

And from a the toddler to the adult, our expectations of our own lives are constantly changed by default. For some, there is no choice but to relook and rethink, and then map out new directions for themselves to follow, albeit with a huge dose of reluctance. For some, with favourable conditions presenting themselves, they are tempted and eventually lured into 'upgrading' and 'upsizing' their wants.

At different stages of our lives, we are a different man.
A different person - the way we think and assess, the things we yearn for and desire.

I was. I am.
Which one, then, is the real me?
Am I the boy, the teen, or the man?
Do we have a choice?
Do we want to make that choice?
Do we want to make that choice bad enough, that we actually do it?

Have you changed?

Huff and puff and huff and...

2007-03-20T18:41:00.000+08:00

I'm fucking frustrated. Disgruntledness over my innate low metabolic rate aside, I'm finding myself increasingly peeved at how every bloody thing isn't going my way. In fact, nothing seems to be going anywhere in any way.

I mean, it's bad enough you've got a finishing line awaiting far beyond the horizon. But when you are trying your darn best to make progress, the last thing you need is to find yourself sprinting on a threadmill instead.

Trying to get back in shape (ie not rotund) is proving to be quite a challenge. And by a challenge I actually mean impossible. I would prefer to think that progress has been made, but Mr. Mirror-on-the-wall begs to differ. Like I admitted with much regret to a close buddy earlier, right now I feel as if I've an entire fucking mountain to level - shovel by shovel. And you know you've made some headway of sorts when you have filled up 2 truckloads of dirt, but you stand back, take a look at your project, and the cheebye mountain's grinning right back in your face saying, "What's up?".

Fuck.

On the other hand, my extremely valiant attempts at putting together some savings feels like trying to slowly fill up an entire bucket with water - with a godamn sieve.

I need someone to talk to really.

English

2007-03-19T12:54:00.000+08:00

Chanced upon this while randomly websurfing...

Apparently, if you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world. =)

Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it's written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend, and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt and aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian, Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, sourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew, Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!

Always

2007-03-15T13:00:00.000+08:00

You know you've got to post it up on your blog when you're belting out an all time favourite classic love song, and then just as you turn on the radio, the very same song starts playing.

Presenting Bon Jovi - Always

This romeo is bleeding
But you can't see his blood
It's nothing but some feelings
That this old dog kicked up
It's been raining since you left me
Now I'm drowning in the flood
You see I've always been a fighter
But without you I give up

Now I can't sing a love song
Like the way it's meant to be
Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore
But baby, that's just me

And I will love you, baby - always
And I'll be there forever and a day - always
I'll be there till the stars dont shine
Till the heavens burst and
The words don't rhyme
And I know when I die, you'll be on my mind
And I'll love you - always

Now your pictures that you left behind
Are just memories of a different life
Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry
One that made you have to say goodbye
What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair
To touch your lips, to hold you near
When you say your prayers try to understand
I've made mistakes, I'm just a man
When he holds you close, when he pulls you near
When he says the words you've been needing to hear
I wish I was him cause those words are mine
To say to you till the end of time

Yeah, I will love you baby - always
And I'll be there forever and a day - always
If you told me to cry for you I could
If you told me to die for you I would
Take a look at my face
Theres no price I won't pay
To say these words to you

Well, there ain't no luck
In these loaded dice
But baby if you give me just one more try
We can pack up our old dreams
And our old lives
We'll find a place where the sun still shines

And I will love you, baby - always
And I'll be there forever and a day - always
I'll be there till the stars don't shine
Till the heavens burst and
The words dont rhyme
And I know when I die, you'll be on my mind
And I'll love you - always

Six and a Half

2007-03-13T09:25:00.000+08:00

Today marks our 6.5 years anniversary.

Taking a walk down the memory lane will be one hell of a long stroll, taking us all the way back to when we were pubescent teenagers.

I remember the very first day I set my eyes on you, how you were effortlessly radiant, how your beautiful skin glowed. And how I silently bemoaned the fact that you were an angel who will never notice me.

I recall how I stole glances towards you. How I admired your sunshine smile and carefree ways, how I soaked in images of your attractive eyes, and how I drowned in my own dreams of being with you.

I remember how fast my heart thumped whenever I spoke to you. I remember how nervous I became everytime you were near.

I remember the jubilation when you agreed to my invitation of a date on Valentine's Day.
I remember the elation in my heart when you told me you liked my gift.
I remember how I told myself to capture that moment and keep it with me forever... for I know it wouldn't last.

I remember the sleepless nights when you were gone. How the days and nights merged, and how I painfully crawled past the hours alone in bed.
I remember how excruciating it was to convince myself to come to terms with the fact that you left, how I was unable to get over it despite knowing deep down inside it was all but an inevitable outcome.
I remember vowing to never forget you, never blame you, and to wish you all the happiness you deserve.

I remember how surprised and glad I was to hear from you once again.
I remember how contented I was at being able to your friend again.
I remember how just being able to hear your voice, see your face once more, was like a dream come true.

I remember having to numb myself from the jealousy that stirred within whenever you confided in me over the phone about your boyfriend.
I remember how hard it was to constantly remind myself to be the friend I ought to be, to share your joys and woes.
I remember telling myself it doesn't matter I am not able to have you in my arms, so long as whoever holds you, holds you dear.

I remember the rage inside me whenever you came to me in tears.
I remember how painful it was to look at you, and wanting to comfort you, take care of you, love you the way you deserved to be loved, but I was in no position to.

I remember the day we kissed.
When time stood still for just the two of us.
Words fail to describe how special it was.

I remember the endless joys and laughters, the occasional fights and tears along the way.
I remember how we slowly but surely built our relationship day by day.
I remember how we put our trust in each other, how we stood by each other.

Six and a half years baby.
I thank you for all the love you've showered on me.
I thank you for standing by me through all times good or bad.
I love you darling. Always.

I know I still get distracted by pretty girls, especially those with a generous bosom or those decked in miniskirts displaying their splendid legs. I'll work on it.
The day will come. It will coincide with the day you are unmoved by the word "SALE" outside a shoe store.

The Indomitable One

2007-03-12T16:06:00.000+08:00

Anguish weeped from the wretched song
Bloodied tears his sole source of warmth
Wrapped in piercing, rotting stench
Clad in shreds of wilted flesh
Wrists enclasped by cuffs of doom
Ankles chained and soul entombed
Escaping the lips of a condemned emperor
His soothing roars of raging whispers
He raised his head and to heavens he stared
Only to be mocked by His blinding glare
"'Tis time!" is heard, the crowd fell dead
Hushed and huddled they silently prayed
The swish of iron ends their dreadful wait
Sealed and delivered his abysmal fate
But screams and shrieks broke the muted grounds
"A scam! A scam!" the men astounds
For he had preserved his once lost crown
And rose to meet the blade like a deity's son
Cloaked in scarlet drapes he cries
"I shall not bow" with a smile so wry

Never had enough a flair with words to dabble in poetry much, but as I sat here, physically bounded by the office chair, my mind went awandering, and a scene surfaced in my head. I attempted to pen the picture down with words and this was what I could muster.

Trepidatious

2007-03-05T09:04:00.000+08:00

It's very taxing, when you need both time and money, but they are mutually exclusive and inversely proportionate to each other.

It's very disheartening to learn that the hours put in, are translated to substantial, but insufficient remunerations.

It's tough running a race and knowing you are nowhere near the finishing line.
It's exhausting running a race when you are pushing yourself to the limits, but you've no idea how much longer you can last, or whether or not there is even a finishing line.
It's excruciating running a race, when you know exactly where the ending line is, but lack the reserves to carry yourself there.

With each passing day, I feel increasingly drained of my drive, passion, yearning for life.
The minutes are painfully slow, but the days slip by at an alarming pace.
And I suppose the problem with that is deadlines loom nearer, and you don't feel better prepared for them like you ought to be.

I am doing my best to keep my fire going. Some go about their entire lives with a pathetic whimper of a flame inside them, others with raging fires that threatens to set ablaze everything in sight.

But you need a purpose. It is the very catalyst required to attain completion, achievement.
There is no point with starting a monster of a fire, but the kettle of water is nowhere in sight.
No kettle, no water to boil.
And before long, the fire dwindles, and finally dies. With only the crying wisps of smoke the only memories of the force it once was.

I have patiently rekindled my life, inflamed myself with dreams and hopes.
The fire has been nurtured, the blaze steadfast and purposeful.
But as though being thrust deep into the high mountains where oxygen is scarce and temperatures freezing, I'm finding it near impossible to remain aroused. I quiver.
And under such adverse and unwelcomed circumstances, the weight of kettle of water sitting above me seems greater, the task of bringing the water to boil is magnified, and the project's sheer magnitude appears overwhelming.

Weakened.

I fear. I fear that the flame I've fueled thus far, may only suffice in illuminating the kettle I have on hand. I fear I will never hear the kettle whistle.

Titless

2007-03-01T10:34:00.000+08:00

(Title-less that is.)

The previous entry was posted only today due to unforeseen lethargy. It should be dated 2 days back. =p

Well, yesterday had lunch at Seoul's BBQ. On a spur of the moment, I decided to invite my parents along since I've never treated them to a meal before, and it's been a long while since we had a meal outside together. It also so happened that my dad wasn't at work as he had a medical checkup in the morning. However, it dawned upon me just as quickly how much I have underestimated my parents. Dad waved off my offer with a mumbled comment of how his OPC cannot be mobilised (not without parting with $20 that is), and Mom made sure I was aware of the abundance of leftovers from last night's dinner waiting to be served as their lunch.

Ho-hum.

And so it was just the 2 of us, and we did not stuff ourselves silly this time round. A first I think. Proceeded to watch Just Follow Law, a thoroughly entertaining movie. Yet another Jack Neo production, so it was of no surprise it was another not-so-subtle jab at Singapore's political predicament. This time round, Just Follow Law is a satirical portrayal of how government organisations are bounded by excessive rules and regulations. This comedy stars Gurmit Singh and the delectable Fann Wong, and the groundbreaking performance from the latter was a pleasant surprise. Needless to say, she looked her usual goddess-like beautiful self in the show. =)

Anyway, the date of my practical driving test looms near. *~~shudders~~sniggers in ~~fear~~excitement* Hence 2 more hours of practise I've arranged for myself tomorrow morning. Afterwhich would probably be followed by a trip to Carl's Jr and the cinema.

Incidentally, I've come to realise there is this person I've grown to treat with much disdain.

Self-centred, immature, manipulative, lazy, unindustrious, apathetic.
Someone who never ever volunteers with the housework.
Someone who goes all out to excuse herself from and avoid responsibilities.
Someone who shirks all blame and fault regardless of situation.
Someone who treats everyone with lack of respect, including (especially) family members.
Someone who always portrays and convinces herself to be the victim.
Someone who seeks favours at will, and reject requests unashamedly.
Someone who takes advantage and manipulates others to her own benefit.
Someone I call my sister.

Call me mean if you want for this hatred I have for my own sibling. Actually, I don't really hate her, but I'm almost there. Right now I'm contented with just increasingly despising and detesting her very presence.

I cannot stand sight of her forever running away from responsibilities and making sure everyone else thinks she is being victimised. She's never apologetic when she makes mistakes, and yet she's most ready to accuse and attack viciously when she's done wrong to. She leeches hard-earned money from my dad incessantly, and not only showing no shred of appreciation while at it, she displays her displeasure without any restraint like the brat she is all too readily. She fails to understand how difficult a time our dad is having all this while trying to support a family of 5 on a measly income. Everyone else can suffer at her expense, but she must not be shortchanged for any reason whatsoever. Graduating with a diploma from polytechnic, she refuses to seek for a job pertaining to her qualifications, but instead opt to procrastinate and do part-time tutoring instead. Nothing wrong with that, except she ends up taking money from dad still and complains she's short on finances without her allowance now. Fucking turning 20 years old in 3 months' time and still shamelessly demanding for money? I'm appalled to witness how she is currently scheming her way to make my dad PAY OFF HER LOAN OF $9K SGD FROM HIS CPF ACCOUNT that she took for her school fees. She makes her dad pay her school fees, asks for allowance throughout her poly days, "claims" all extra expenditures from dad in the meantime, and now after graduating, she has the cheek to complain that she finds it IMPOSSIBLE to return the money into dad's CPF account since she's not earning enough now?? On top of that, she's suggesting my dad put back the money for her instead? OMFG. I would've shot her in the face if a weapon of choice was available and accessible.

Does it dawn upon her she has so far, not contributed to the family in ANY sense AT ALL? And that her own choice to NOT get a job to support herself and repay her debts should be her OWN PROBLEM instead of my dad's FAULT?

I've not taken allowance from my parents ever since JC days. Surviving on $300+ monthly during NS wasn't easy, but at least I did not complain and leech money off my dad. She'd drawn comparison with me, saying how as to I'm not contributing to the household despite holding a job at the momeny. Does she know that with the intermittent off-days I'm taking to go for driving lessons my income is as little as $1K a month, DESPITE workdays that starts 6am and ends 7pm? Does she know I am fervently saving up for a fucking wedding? Does she know I am MOVING OUT OF THE FUCKING HOUSE in half a years' time and large amounts of funds are needed? On top of all this committments to save up like a dickhead, I am supporting myself (already) and my family (in due time)?

What does she know? She doesn't even know a fucking damn thing. Does she know how much a bed costs? How much a TV, a refrigerator, a dining table, a living room couch, or a fucking loaf of bread costs? She doesn't pay for a single thing in the family. Complains when there's no food, and never makes ANY purchases for the household. Not unless it was absolutely unavoidable, AND that she must be able to "claim" the money spent from my parents.

So there, the little piece of dipshit that she is, can go fuck off and rot for all I care.

At least I'm working for the sake of working. At least I am doing something about my life and making things happen. You? You just know how to sit in that fucking chair and embrace sloth and complain about how miserable you life was, is and will be, like it's everyone's fault but yours.

Seriously, I look forward to the day when I can look at your pitiful soul with disdain and chuckle to myself at your dilapidated surroundings and pathetic life.

It's no use having dreams of this and that, but not do anything about it. So I suggest you wake your fucking idea up.

Well, I am this close to putting her in her rightful place, and I'm pretty sure at the next incidence she pushes me to my threshold with her wilful, unfilial, bratty displays to my parents, that would be the time.

My dear thinks I should leave her alone and just get out of the place asap and move on with our lives - cos she's not worth any trouble or concern. I agree, and I would love to let her continue with her self-degradation, but not when my parents are on the receiving end of her immaturity.

Not when I'm still alive and kicking anyway.

Little Child I Am

2007-03-01T09:25:00.000+08:00

Caught the show Little Children with dear on my Birthday. We both agreed it was a worthwhile film. Addressing the problem of paedophilia in the eye, the film was sprinkled with deliberate distorted perspectives and viewpoints from the various characters in the story. The ugly face of hypocrisy was repeatedly exposed throughout the movie, and the slow-moving pace ensured enough scenes were dedicated to the developments of the lead characters' emotional build-up. I felt it was a fitting way to tell a tale of how two separate stay-home parents, troubled by problems in their respective marriages, driven by private yet similar urges to seek escape, masked and driven by desires which they self-fueled with regret but no shame, eventually led to the submission from both parties to indulge in a fulfilling, short-lived, and almost catastrophic affair. I particularly liked the manner in which the audience were led to sympathise with 'Ronnie' (played by the excellent Jackie Earle Haley) via the traps of misconceptions throughout, and then later be shocked by the undeniable darkness inside 'Ronnie's' heart. I am also certain the director meant for to show us how, once tainted, , we are unable to shower 'Ronnie' with much pity despite his saddening plight and the eventual twist at the end. Kate Winslet and Patrick Wilson were more than decent, but their performances were somewhat overshadowed by Noah Emmerich (who played 'Larry') and Jackie Earle Haley. There were some graphic sex scenes as well, which I thought were necessary (for once) for the show. If anything, Jennifer Connolly looked really fine in the show as well.

We were later pleased to find out that was the final screening of the show locally. Good thing we managed to catch it. =)

With the show ending up lasting much longer than first expected, we were rushed to make our way to Raffles City for our dinner reservations at the Plaza Market Cafe. I had invited along my Godparents for the occasion, and it was to be the first time I've ever treated them to a meal after 23 long years. It was evident they were glad, and so was I. The food was decent as usual, but admittedly a tad too costly for the standards and variety (or lackthereof) of food on offer. Nonetheless, quite an enjoyable evening spent with my lovely dear (who looked absolutely beautiful as always) and joviable godparents.

I've always had this penchant for presents. Especially birthday presents. And I know for sure it is because I've never had many of those since childhood. Mind you, I'm not expecting Tag Heuer watches, Gucci wallets and the likes. I'm easily thrilled with gifts that cost less than their wrappers. Perhaps it's the reassurance it brings to my heart that someone cares, or if not, at least someone remembers. Even an SMS from an old friend to send a birthday greeting was more welcomed than the now obligatory 'celebrations' with my family. A treat from the birthday boy/girl in the family, followed by the singing of the Happy Birthday, cutting of cake, and if you're lucky enough, indulge in the savouring of some Tiger Beer or cheap wine or whatever alcohol there is on offer. My parents' birthday gift to me this year, on my 23rd, was to foot for the birthday meal treat. Again. Even for my 21st birthday, their present to me was to throw a 'party' (which I did not exactly yearned for - not in the fashion of which they planned anyway) and foot the bill of the buffet spread that day.

Not being unappreciative here, honestly. I know it shows at the very least, they care. Many out there have parents who can't remember thier child's birth date. But given the conditions, they were capable of finding out what I like, what I want, over the course of 23 years. But they didn't.

This year, no birthday ang pows from anyone at all. A little expected, but still disappointing. Everyone's gift to me was to chip in the few dollars that would make up the cost of my fucking bigass-elaborate-stunning-exterior-svelte-like-interior-absolutely-mouth-watering-heavenly chocolate-NOT cake. Okay, maybe I went overboard with the sarcasm, but seriously. An entire gang of extended family members who gives a shit about every single particle in everyone's lives and makes it a point to meddle in and make their opinions heard, can't even do something better than SPLIT the cost of a puny cake? Ho ho ho. Even in my tattered Nauticas and faded scratched Cyma watch and peeling Timberlands 10 years down the road, I would still make sure my future nieces and nephews get what they deserve for that annual special day of the year. It's not about the price tag, it's all in the heart.

Ramblings and disgruntledness aside, I'm glad my dear ensured I had an enjoyable day on he 26th itself. My siblings also surprised me with a self-made gift hamper for my birthday, inside which comprises of an impressive array of snacks/tidbits/fattening-foods. They even topped it off with a small bottle of Barcadi Breezer ala the real hampers where you get the XO stuffs. Really cute. =)

And so, presenting to you, Me. All 23 years of it.

Enjoy, while stock lasts.

26th February

2007-02-26T01:09:00.000+08:00

Happy Birthday to me. =)

2007-02-22T09:05:00.000+08:00

Back at work. The Chinese New Year break was anything but. The insane size of my extended family meant a back-breaking hectic visiting schedule for the past 3 days. Loads of unhealthy, but very delectable, new year goodies were consumed daily before, during, in-between, and even after the visits. In short, it was inevitable to have taken the few steps back with regards to my quest towards non-obesity.

Having said that, it was not a case of being unappreciative of the holidays. It was, and has always been, one of my more favoured holidays. You get to meet relatives from all the corners of the island, indulge in some good-natured gambling (where winning isn't everything), have constant bouts of laughters with cousins, and not to mention, perfect strangers you bump into when doing your rounds visiting relatives are obligated to bless you with ang pows.

Somehow, somewhere amidst all the red packets and pineapple tarts and poker cards, I arrived at the realisation of how important, and unimportant, Money is.

It's no wonder how dreadful this joyous occasion can prove to be for a low-income family. The inflated prices for every single item at the supermarkets and wetmarkets, and exaggeratingly expanding array of new year 'goodies' on sale everywhere should prove to be an early dampener. Paying the exhorbitant costs of the indispensible Bak Guas is fast becoming a necessity in all households to make it an adequate New Year. And of course, having to literally hand out your hard-earned money decked in fanciful red packets... you get the picture. Not to say one can't enjoy the festive period when he's cash-strapped, but it's much more likely to feel the niggling pinch on the wallet while celebrating. Sad, but true.

Then again, it's only during CNY whereby you can see in full display how "money" becomes a commodity that is readily expensed. The "adults" mean it when they give the younger ones a red packet and offer some well-wishes. Regardless of how thick the ang pow is, you know for sure the giver is willing, and the taker is appreciative. It is also during CNY that you see "happy losers" everywhere. Blackjacks are congratulated instead of cursed upon (well, unless it's the banker going out of hand and goes on a winning spree). =P

Well, I was glad enough for the short breather away from the monotonous work-home-sleep routine. Thoroughly enjoyed the company of family and relatives, and pleased with the mini-windfall from the angpows collected. Certainly heartening to see everyone decked out in their best attires and carrying smiles all around. Happiness does breed bliss.

It's saddening to mention that with 10 more days of the festive period to go, I've received news today of the unfortunate passing of my Uncle Desmond's father in the early hours this morning. My condolences to him and his family, and I wish him the strength to shoulder the grief, as well as the will to perserve all the lovely memories of his late father.

Uncle Des: If anything, I hope this brings a brief smile to your face amidst the pain - Liverpool beat Barca at the Nou Camp 1-2 in the 1st leg of their Champions League final 16 knockout match. =)

新年快乐 x 200

2007-02-16T14:05:00.000+08:00

Yes. I foresee myself wishing family, relatives, friends, and strangers 新年快乐 for at least 200 times over the course of the next few days.

So here we go again. AngPow-collecting, beer-guzzling, pineapple tarts-munching, Blackjack-winning...

Probably would not be updating here till midweek, so, Happy Chinese New Year!

Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD)

2007-02-15T13:28:00.000+08:00

Gastroesophageal reflux disease, or GERD, affects at least an estimated 5% to 7% of the global population—men, women, and children. Heartburn and/or acid regurgitation experienced weekly has been found to occur in 19.8% of individuals.

Although common, GERD often is unrecognized—its symptoms misunderstood. This is unfortunate because GERD is generally a treatable disease. Serious complications can result if it is not treated properly.

GERD is a chronic disease. Treatment usually must be maintained on a long-term basis, even after symptoms have been brought under control. Issues of daily living, and compliance with long-term use of medication need to be addressed as well.

taken from aboutGERD.org

Well, it seems an old problem has creeped its way back to haunt me yet again.

Woe is me.

Men vs Women

2007-02-12T11:35:00.000+08:00

If Laura, Kate and Sarah go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Kate and Sarah.
If Mike, Dave and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Godzilla and Four-eyes.

When the bill arrives, Mike, Dave and John will each throw in $20, even though it's only for $32.50. None of them will have anything smaller and none will actually admit they want change back.
When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.

A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs.
A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't need but it's on sale.

A man has six items in his bathroom: toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel from M&S. The average number of items in the typical woman's bathroom is 337. A man would not be able to identify more than 20 of these items.

A woman has the last word in any argument.
Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.

A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't.
A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change, but she does.

Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed.
Women somehow deteriorate during the night.

Sian

2007-02-12T09:26:00.000+08:00

I just had what I would term as a bloody sian weekend.

Y'know, where everything and anything you were looking forward to during the arduous work-week just don't materialise.

Personally, I set myself on a countdown mode almost all the time. From 8am when work commences, I constantly update myself on the time remaining till I take my first toilet break (the same applies for all subsequent ones). And then I check the time religiously, looking forward to lunch time. Once lunch is over, I start ticking off the minutes remaining till tea-break. And then till time to knock off. And whilst doing all that, I countdown the week, motivating myself to push on using the bait of the weekend. I tempt myself with the unbridled jubilation that awaits me that is Saturday. EPL action, late nights, wake up late on Sunday, no-stress relaxing day, jam on PS2, etc etc. And then after fully immersing myself in the rewarding weekend, nurse myself into the mood of tackling a brand new week of sian work.

So, when the sian factor spills over and gets carried into the weekend, I am one disgruntled man.

It is frustration at its finest when things go awry. Seeing as to how it gets on my nerves when something doesn't manifests itself in the manner I've envisioned before, it absolutely fucks my mood up big time when nothing goes my way.

Yes yes, that's Life you say. But I would still want to grab Life by its collar and clobber it to pulp just to teach it a bloody lesson of not to screw up ever so often.

Anyway.

I'm getting increasingly peeved at my Mom. Her ability to seemingly disregard others, coupled with her insistence on practising it unrelentingly is proving to be a major source of annoyance. I do not derive any form of pleasure in dissing my parent. And just so we're clear, I am not attempting to belittle my mother's credit for fulfilling her role in the family. I have the utmost respect for her decision to stick by this family despite how unrewarding it proves to be at times.

Having said that, I am personally of the opinion she's somewhat inept at bringing up a child. Hardly a motivator, seldom a caring figure, and often too enthusiastic when dwelling in trivial matters, our relationship throughout my younger years were estranged at best. Nowadays I steer clear of conversations that are obviously headed for a heated exchange of contrasting viewpoints. I dodge her potshots of critical comments sprinkled with an overdose of sarcasm.

But ever so often, her narrow-minded opinions on matters, overwillingness to effuse those thoughts, and rigidity and stubborness to accept opposing comments makes it impossible for me to suck thumb and let her have her way. I do not appreciate her moulding plans of her own, and shaping others' schedules around them. I also find it appalling how she can, after so many years, still not recognise how taxing having 13-hour days of work for 5.5 days a week can be. Granted, my dad is far from what an accommodating spouse ought to be, but many a time judging from my mom's approach towards communicating within the family, she more or less seals her own fate everytime. Incidentally, she was (once again) pivotal in the screwing up of my weekend that just passed. Ho-hum.

But as the Chinese saying goes, Harmony breeds Wealth. Thus, I am refraining of further straining any relations since Lunar New Year's 6 days away. That 10million bucks Lunar New Year TOTO jackpot is so gonna be mine.

On another note, I've noticed recently how badly I need a friend around me to listen to my rants. Currently, the love of my life has been doubling up as my best friend too, and doing a smashing job at that. But no matter how you look at it, nothing beats a one-times good talk-cock session between guys. I mean, at least the door is open to discussions about hot chicks, without the conversation degrading into a session of coaxing her into believing she's still the love of my life, she's still as attractive as before, and that I will never leave her for another girl - even if she has killer legs, bountiful assets, and resembles the girl in my dreams. (Which is her, of course.)

Oh yes, it is also worth noting that exercise plans will be resumed with immediate effect, but serious drinking over the entire duration of CNY celebrations will not be forfeited.

Not over my dead body.

Quote of the day

2007-02-09T16:24:00.000+08:00

"wait ah... let me think through my thought process again"
- youknowwho

Too fast too furious

2007-02-05T12:45:00.000+08:00

Alright, so Xmas 06's over, so is the turn of the New Year. A quick check with the calendar and it hits me we're already 5 days into February '07. Wtf.

In under 2 weeks' time it'll be the Lunar New Year. Now that's scary. I can still taste the pineapple tarts, smell the Bak Guas, and hear relatives' invariable "Gongxifacai!! Wah, long time no see, so grown-up oraydee ar?" greetings from last year's Lunar New Year (sadly I can't see the ang-pow money from last year no more) and it's that time of the year again? And then being hectored by a ~~over~~zealous girlfriend asking about what I want for my birthday just reminds me that I age again in exactly 3 weeks' time. *groans*

I no longer enjoy birthdays. Truth be told, I've never liked them much, if at all. Okay, I hate birthdays.

I never had those invite-all-your-bloody-noisy-friends-over-and-get-swarmed-by-presents birthday parties when I was young. Well, at least none that gets me buried under gifts. Affairs were always brief, simple, and plain. My family never forgot my special day, not even once, but neither had I been blessed with any outstanding birthdays to remember.

Now that I'm in my twenties, birthdays are just glazed with an extra thick coating of dreadfulness. For a fact, we all know how only kids love growing up fast. I can hardly bear to look myself in the mirror and come to terms with being 22, and now I'm supposed to be 23? The prerogatives of being a full-fledged adults are hardly enticing. Yes, I can now watch the least-censored movies in local cinemas, I can vote (like there is a need to), I can... and the list doesn't really go on. But people expect maturity from you when you're an adult. People frown at you when you play Playstation. Poeple now expect a birthday treat from you instead of showering you with presents you don't want/need. Having CPF statements now in your mail just sums it all up.

I simply hate getting older. Time is moving too fast for me. It is telling me to be 23 when I still want to be 16. Speaking of which, this means I'm (*gasp*) 7 years older than all the pretty Secondary 4 schoolgirls?! WTF.

My dear however, insists on trying to have me enjoy my birthdays. She buys me presents, whips up a wicked dinner, and treats me extra-super nice. I suspect it's a thinly-veiled ploy of hers to sweetly usher me into adulthood despite my reluctance, so that I will be a man and do the right thing asap (read: work harder-earn more money-buy her diamonds). I will not be conned.

On another note, slightly over 2 months to go till I sit for my driving practical test. Somehow I feel there's still much lessons to cover and too little time remaining. I'm confident of my inborn talent and undeniable skills at manoeuvering a Class 3 vehicle, but statistically speaking I stand a 33% chance at passing. The testers confirm prejudiced against all private candidates one, must be.

After a great start to my improved and revised brand-new exercise routine, things have slowed down quite a bit due to an unfortunate blend of poor health, poor time management and poor luck. It's not easy to drum up and maintain the motivation to stick to a fitness routine when you wake up at 6am daily minus Sundays and work till 7pm. It's also frustrating when the weather suka-suka fucks you up for no reason. Add in a dose of diarrhea and an unexplained muscle strain in my left calf over the course of the past 3 weeks, my workout sessions have been sporadic at best. However, being the indomitable Me, I shall not falter. I do feel a slight improvement in my fitness already, but still no changes in the exterior department. I know it will take time, and it will be painful, but I am determined. I want to relive my secondary school time's fighting fit glorious days. Why?

Because I want to get a call-up to be part of the Singapore Lions team!! RAWRR!!!

p.s. Shame of you Thai football team. Complete absence of sportsmanship and professionalism shown when you jokers contested a controversial refereeing decision by storming off the pitch. Utter lack of maturity and intelligence displayed when you clowns made disparaging remarks with regards to our players' discipline and integrity.

p.p.s Only in ASEAN football can you see refs that do NOT send players off for attempted headbutts nor caution players for blatant simulation (diving ala David Ginola and playacting Porto FC-style). Only in ASEAN football do you see assistant refs officiating a Finals game but not understand what is considered as offside.

p.p.p.s Only the smartasses in the AFF will be retarded enough to appoint a fucking Malaysian ref in a Singapore-Thailand match. I mean, WTF?! I am not insinuating anything about Malaysian referees' abilities. It is simply outrageously ridiculous for such an arrangement.

p.p.p.p.s Only in the Asean Football Championships can you get a match with 15 minutes of stoppage time.

p.p.p.p.p.s
Thailand 1 - 1 Singapore
Singapore wins (3-2) on aggregate score.
Singapore crowned AFC champions, successfully defending the title.

SONG BO.

Don't Quit

2007-01-30T09:53:00.000+08:00

Don't Quit
by anonymous

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must; but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up, though the pace seems slow;
You might succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out;
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt;
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit;
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

And that is why I won't give up... I will never stop buying till I strike the knn TOTO!!!

A song dedication...

2007-01-25T16:25:00.000+08:00

The following song's dedicated to my buddy Alexander Pang!
With loads of lurve, from Singapore all da way to Bristol baby.
;)

ความรักของเธอ เสียงที่บอกฉันว่าเธอห่วงใยk
waam rak kong ter siang tee bok chan waa ter huang yai
Love of yours, its sound tells me that you're concerned about me.

มือนั้นของเธอ ที่แตะหน้าผากฉัน วันที่ฉันไม่สบาย
meu nan kong ter tee dtae naa paak chan wan tee chan mai sa-baai
That hand of yours that touches my forhead during the days when I'm unwell.

* ทุกๆ ฉากทุกตอนไม่เคยจางหาย แม้จะผ่านเนิ่นนานเท่าไร*
took-took chaak took dton mai koie jaang haai mae ja paan nern-naan tao-rai
Every scene, every episode, they never fade away even though they had passed by however long ago.

และทุกฉากทุกตอน นั้นคอยตอกย้ำสิ่งที่ฉันเป็น ตั้งแต่เสียเธอไป
lae took chaak took dton nan koi dtok yam sing tee chan bpen dtang dtae sia ter bpai
And every scene, every episode, that kept emphasising the thing that I became since losing you.

** ว่าฉันเป็นคนโง่เหนือใครๆ มีรักแท้อยู่ ดูแลไม่ได้* *
waa chan bpen kon ngoh neua krai-krai mee rak tae yoo doo lae mai daai
That I am a stupid person, more so than anyone else, having had true love but was unable to take care of it.

จะรู้ค่ามันก็สายเกินไป ปวดร้าวคิดอยากย้อนเรื่องราวแค่ไหน ได้แต่ฝัน
ja roo kaa man gor saai gern bpai bpuat raao kit yaak yon reuang raao kae nai daai dtae fan
Got to know it's value but then it's too late, broken-hearted, however much I thought of reverting the story, I'm able but only to dream.

ต่อจนเหมือนเดิม รูปเมื่อก่อนนั้นที่มันขาดไป
dtor jon meuan derm roop meua gon nan tee man kaat bpai
Stick our picture, which was torn apart, back together.

แต่ทางของเรา จะต่อได้อีกไหม หรือว่าฉันต้องทำใจ
dtae taang kong rao ja dtor daai eek mai reu waa chan dtong tam jai
But will our paths meet again? Or that I should accept it?

เพราะทุกฉากทุกตอนไม่เคยจางหาย แม้จะผ่านเนิ่นนานเท่าไร
pror took chaak took dton mai koie jaang haai mae ja paan nern-naan tao-rai
Because every scene, every episode, they never fade away even though they had passed by however long ago.

และทุกฉากทุกตอน นั้นคอยตอกย้ำสิ่งที่ฉันเป็น ตั้งแต่เสียเธอไป
lae took chaak took dton nan koi dtok yam sing tee chan bpen dtang dtae sia ter bpai
And every scene, every episode, that kept emphasising the thing that I became since losing you.

(ซ้ำ **)

บอกหน่อยที่ไหนพอจะมี ประตูให้ฉันย้อนไปคืนวัน
bok noi tee nai por ja mee bpra-dtoo hai chan yon bpai keun wan
Tell me a little, just where there will be a door for me to revert to the nights and days,

ที่ฉันมีเธออยู่ จะขอดูแลอีกครั้ง...
tee chan mee ter yoo ja kor doo lae eek krang . . .
that I had you; I'll take a good care of you, once again...

ฉันมันคนโง่เหนือใครๆ มีรักแท้อยู่ ดูแลไม่ได้
chan man kon ngoh neua krai-krai mee rak tae yoo doo lae mai daai
I am that stupid person, more so than anyone else, having had true love but was unable to take care of it.

จะรู้ค่ามันก็สายเกินไป ปวดร้าวคิดอยากย้อนเรื่องราวแค่ไหน ได้แต่ฝัน
ja roo kaa man gor saai gern bpai bpuat raao kit yaak yon reuang raao kae nai daai dtae fan
Got to know it's value but then it's too late, broken-hearted, however much I thought of reverting the story, I'm able but only to dream.

This song is called "ruk tae doo lae mai dai" from the album Life by Potato.
.
.
.
.
.

=D

Wedding Bells A-Ringing...?

2007-01-23T09:24:00.000+08:00

Just the other day, I took a not-very-deserved but much-needed day off from work, and took my dear out in town. Been quite some time since we last spent time walking about in town, and so we were looking forward to having some time to ourself outside post-working home hours.

Alighted from the cab at Far East and made our way towards Wisma Atria/Taka, where we window-shopped for the better part of an hour or two.

Being in an unusually intrepid mood, when passing by Soo Kee Jewellery, which was followed by the inevitable "stop-admire-coo" routine from the girlfriend, I surprisingly (yes, even to myself) asked casually, "Want to go in to take a look?"

In that very instant, time stood still, holy auras showered down from the heavens, and a choir of angels sang in unison.

She turned, looked at me, and with a near-incredulous look asked me, "Huh? Really ah?"

Alas, the impregnable defense of almighty me had crumbled. I withdrew my 6-year long stance of "Say No to Diamonds". In that moment of madness, committing myself to entering the brightly-lit store had become a fait accompli. Trepidation thrown out of the window.

Not that I had time to renege. She didn't even pause and wait for my response to her question before dragging me in. I could've sworn she was skipping her way in.

Score:
Man-who-came-up-with-the-tagline-"Diamonds are a woman's best friend" 1:0 Me.

Well, being the uxurious man I am, I would have been more than willing to oblige long ago - if I had the financial ability to make the purchase for something she fancies. Not that I'm any better off now than before - wallet's still wafer thin, but I realised sooner or later I'd have to let her look. At least look. Surely that can't hurt.

What naivety. There can be little pain out there worse than watching your beloved one try on bling-blings one after another, making assessments along the way, and knowing that she won't be able to get her hands on any that day. Not yet.

We then proceeded to Lee Hwa, and of course she drew comparisons between the Brilliant Rose and the Destinee series of diamond collections. I had to admit the salespersons were nowhere near the supercillious bitches I envisioned them to be, and that helped a lot. They thrilled my girlfriend to bits by showing her whatever she requested, and remained friendly and helpful throughout.

And then we saw Tiffany's.

I thought "what the hell", and insisted we went to take a look as well. She feigned reluctance, and I literally had to jog to keep up with her heading through their polished glass doors.

A class above the rest, prices notwithstanding naturally, the premises of the outlet was one of elegance and posh. Inside there, was the real test.

The service was professional, but sadly none of the desired enthusiasm and friendliness. I was determined to maintain my sangfroid, and I did. Not once did I falter when coming face-to-face with the plethora of diamonds on display.

We then proceeded for a late lunch at Sakae Sushi, something well within my budget for a change. It's interesting how my breathing was distinctly easier dealing with sushis instead of jewellery.

Obviously, I had to stomach an afternoon-long of gushing from her. I strongly suspect the exaggerating shimmers from the diamonds dealt permanent damage to her retinas, for she could see nothing but images of that "oh-my-god-did-you-see-the-size-of-that-thing" rock for the rest of the week.

So you see, wedding ~~alarm~~ bells are ringing. Heck, I am guilty of tolling them myself.

But unfortunately, the perpetual state of deficient funds is proving to be a major, if only, stumbling block.

Hang in there baby, watch this space.

P.S: Seeking immediate loans, interested parties please contact myself via email or phone asap

Disconsolate

2007-01-10T17:48:00.000+08:00

"Indolence in one's salad days exacerbates the privation of opportunities for academic qualifications." ~Sia Zhenghan

满招损，谦受益

2007-01-05T10:45:00.000+08:00

好一句流芳千古的谚语。
这正是十年前饶老师赐予我的金玉良言。也不晓得为什么，当年仅有十出岁的我顿时心有灵犀一点通，感有许多领悟似的。此名言我就不知不觉地铭记在心，深深地烙印在我年少的脑海中。

一转眼，年幼岁月已逝，正起步踏入社会的我，在这新的一年头又再次想起陪伴我左右的座右铭，也唤起在我小学时期给予莘莘学子无限爱心教诲 - 饶老师的记忆。

饶老师她对教育不屈不挠的精神，可说唯有在她的指导下的学生才能完全了解。
无论成绩好坏，品行优劣，饶老师总能一视同仁，对班上每位学生都倾全力。教课时的她态度认真，全神贯注，课余时间也是个和蔼可亲的宗师。在她翼下的学生，都能深深地感受到每当她流下滴滴汗水与泪水时的辛酸和欣慰。。。

所谓得人滴水之恩,须当涌泉相报。
想不到毕业了数年后就很快地与老师失去了联络。
如今只能希望她仍然健康，快乐，安享着退休后的日子。

或许，将“满招损，谦受益”牢守在心，并不忘老师的教诲，就是对她的感激最好的方式。

Review. Refresh.

2007-01-04T16:15:00.000+08:00

And here we have it. Year 2007. And before I can even digest the fact that 2006 is all but over, we are already 4 days into the new year. I sincerely hope that everyone out there had a thoroughly enjoyable time drowning themselves with bubbly and stuffing themselves over sinful festive meals. I, myself, am guilty of putting on another few kilos of unnecessary and very unwanted weight after going through the year end's numerous dinners and BBQ sessions and whatnot.

Every, and I mean it, EVERY single blog I keep tabs on, have had a post up on their reflections of the past year, and their resolutions for the new one. Since I have absolutely nothing interesting off the top of my head to blog about, and being the shameless lazy bum I have become, I shall jump onto the bandwagon with all the zest I can muster.

Year 2006,

I engaged in a family verbal melee, from which I learnt that we all live among some people who just aren't worth our time. Comity is not possible when dealing with some members of our species.

Turned 22. And hated every second of it. =(

Put on weight.

Had some of the most memorable footballing moments during the friendly and not-so-friendly matches together with my NS pals, complete with scoring some unforgettable goals finished with much aplomb.

I finally, after a regrettable 2.4 years, O.. R.. D-ed from National Service.

Experienced an entire gamut of emotions upon regaining civilian status, and then found myself reminiscing the bittersweet months spent during NS on more than one occasion.

Put on weight.

Thanks to my buddy Alexandar Pang, went on a very much appreciated short vacation to Phuket, Thailand, despite being on a shoestring budget.

Had topless women gyrating in my vicinity whilst in the company of my girlfriend, and came out of the experience largely unscathed.

Played the jackpot machines inside a bona fide casino for the first time, albeit a not-so-classy one up in Genting Highlands.

Put on weight.

Passed Basic and Final Theory Driving Tests on first attempts. (Yes, am now awaiting for the Practical Test date to arrive, for those who are interested)

Visited the dentist, which may I add, hated every moment of it.

Felt the irrepressible urge to dismember a scumbag, and most certainly would have, if not for the fact the skunk slithered away like a pussy.

Ended up totally flat broke for only the second time of my life.

Survived 3 months of impecunious lifestyle. Synonymous with the nadir of my 22 years of time on earth.

Unsurprisingly, put on more weight, being in the indolent state I was in.

Owned my very first juju, courtesy of my parents after returning from their Taiwan trip during which they visited a temple, and consulted a fortune-teller who incidentally revealed that I'm a born loser. Woots.

Saw my younger brother graduate from Primary school upon completion of his PSLE.

Gained a much-delayed respite to my paucity of financial resources after deciding to take up a job offer from my uncle.

Participated in the full rituals at the wake of my god-grandfather.

Received gifts of extravagance from my dear. (Yes I love the watch AND the phone)

Not for the first time of my life, witnessed my friends moving on with their lives while mine stagnates.

Put on more weight. (When I thought it wasn't really possible anymore)

I'm sure I missed out on many other key moments throughout the course of last year, which is also why I am keen to be less sporadic in updating tidbits of my life for the months ahead. And hopefully, after which would enable me to look back in 361 days' time and relive every single significant happening in my life.

Without a shred of doubt there are many regrets for 2006. The list of things I wished I had done, and the things I wish I didn't do, to put it simply, is inexhaustive. BUT! We learn from the past, and live for the future. No point lambasting myself over history, I reckoned. So on a slightly brighter note, I will make a list of resolutions for 2007! =D

For 2007,

I will pledge to come to terms with the fact that I will never own my private Learjet, nor be able to buy my own luxury yatch.

I will however, not stop working towards being able to, no matter how many years later, own my dream car. =)

Pass my Practical Driving Test, hopefully with the minimal of attempts, and in so doing, get hold of my driving license.

Lose weight.

Try my best to indulge myself with materialistic purchases while getting rid of my persisting parsimony.

Buy a top of the shelf PC/laptop with drool-worthy specs.

Buy a top of the shelf huge flat-screen LCD/Plasma TV for our new apartment.

Work hard during the week, and party harder on weekends.

Exercise more.

Read more books.

Blog more often.

As tough and daunting a task this is, be a better boyfriend. (Will include allowing her to continue indulging in copious amounts of beauty sleep)

Be a better son.

Be a better brother.

Go on an overseas trip. Twice. At least. (Sentosa will not be included)

Figure out a way to get hold of all available DVD/VCD collections of Manchester United videos.

Buy more shoes. And clothes.

Lose weight.

Have a social life. (Logging in to MSN will not count)

Make an effort to catch up with old friends, and make new ones, if possible.

Not buang any car I drive for the entire year.

Look at more naked girls.

Buy less 4D; strike more often.

Yes, the list does go on, but seeing as to how it is nearing 6pm and barely an hour left to knocking off, I shall spare myself the agony of expanding the list any further. I do resign to the fate that there will be somethings I would want to do, and yet not be able to, perhaps for the rest of my life.

I predict a lifelong regret I will carry to my grave will be not being able to learn at least one foreign language (with Français on top of my list obviously), and not mastering how to play a classical guitar.

Besides football, which is also fast becoming a passion I have very little time and chance to indulge myself in, speaking French and playing the guitar with proficiency remains top of my wish list. I have learnt basic French back in secondary school years, and have also taken guitar lessons some way back, but have not progressed far enough in both endeavours for my liking. And seeing as to how costly linguistic lessons as well as private music classes are, chances are I will never be able to fulfill my dreams of being a French-speaking guitarist who is extremely intelligent and good-looking.

To sum it all up, for the year to come, at the top of my want-to-do list would be...
to lose weight. =) Haha...

Frankly speaking, in the current state I'm in, it might actually be easier to lose weight than to gain anymore. You know, like the diminishing rate of returns? =p Well, I will make sure I won't be in any worse shape come end of December compared to now. I will hit the gym with a vengeance once we move into the new place. For now, I shall strive to watch my diet, and have more sex.

Weight-loss program?

BRING IT ON.

Jolly X'mas!

2006-12-26T12:51:00.000+08:00

So it turns out we decided to stay in and whip up something for our pre-Christmas dinner. Having somewhat buang-ed our first couple of attempts at making a steak meal at home, dear was determined to make things right this time round. And with fingers tightly crossed, we went ahead and took the plunge.

I arrived slightly late for the street soccer session on Saturday, while she went for a late morning casting for an assignment at some atas place. I must admit it was thoroughly rewarding to make the trip to Clementi that day. The games were played at a semi-casual pace, not threatening of any cardiac arrest, but with enough oomph to set the stage for some exciting goals. I did manage to play for the majority of the games throughout the 2-hour session, and was rewarded with excruciating muscle aches all over afterwards for the next couple of days. Anyway, her shoot went smoothly and she proceeded to Cold Storage and purchased the ingredients for our DIY dinner.

Both deadbeat upon reaching home for different reasons, we slacked around and watched a dvd before embarking on our cooking session a tad too late for our liking. (The show ended at around 5.30pm, and we had wanted to commence the preparations around 5)

I took the liberty of capturing some photos of the ingredients that day using both her digicam and my ~~brand~~ new N73 (which reminds me I've yet to blog about my smashing new phone). The pictures will be up once I get around to uploading them. =p

So. Firstly we (okay, she did most of the "we" things I'm about to list) had to skin the boiled Russet potatoes, which dear decided a grand total of FIVE was "just nice" for TWO persons' serving of mash potatoes. Heating up butter and adding in generous amounts of diced garlic as well with a bit of black pepper, we then added the sinful golden mixture into the bowl of potatoes. I was then tasked with manually (yes you heard that right) 'mashing' the 5 whole boiled potatoes. This menial job proved to be much more challenging than it sounds. But after toiling for about 10 minutes, I, equipped with a mere metal fork, won the battle against the bloody stubborn potatoes! And the end result is a very wholesome bowl of golden yellow evenly-mashed garlic potatoes. Very fragrant, very addictive - nothing like those smooth and watery whipped potatoes in crap sauce they have at fast food chains. (Did I mention there was enough to for 4 persons' servings instead?)

Creating our meal in the mould of a Black Angus dinner, we boiled some broccoli, adding a dash of salt and butter for good measure. The greens also turned out to be very pleasant, none of the crunchy bitterness of a broccoli too raw, and far from being the moist and mushy texture of overcooked ones. We skipped carrots because my darling doesn't fancy them, and decided somewhat single-mindedly that I hate them too. So she didn't buy any.

Off the top of my head, I thought of making some sautéed onions and mushrooms. Provided with the only large red onions and shiitake mushrooms available in the house, I tried this concoction for the first time, and ~~miraculously~~ expectedly it turned out extremely tasty indeed. (I had to agree with opinions that it was a tad too salty, and I admit it was down to me being overly generous with the salt)

Soup was settled with a good ol' cheaterbug can of Campbell's Mushroom Potage Soup. We added in thinly sliced shiitake mushrooms to excellent effect. Ok, we swore to banish any future use of these instant soups for future cooking, so anyone with good soup recipes feel free to email them my way.

Finally it was time to take the leap of faith and come face-to-face with the 3 juicy slabs of beef, rib-eye cut. We stuck to the adage that good steak needs no marination, and threw the meat onto the pre-heated pan. Sprinkling on just a pinch of salt and very-manually-ground black pepper, all three steaks turned out fucking perfect.

Ever so slightly charred on the edges, the "grilled" surface glistened of the beef's natural juices. Cutting into the meat reveals a juicy and tender centre, and we could have well done without the black pepper sauce prepared to complement the steak. The natural flavors exploded upon contact with our tastebuds, and chewing on the medium rare ribeyes made the sweet texture melt in our mouths.

Topping the meal off with a bottle of vin rouge, it was by far the most satisfying gastronomical experience for a home-cooked effort.

Definitely a Christmas dinner to remember. Not to mention witnessing Singapore's sexiest and smokin' hawt Santarina complete with er, well everything, in the post-dinner program. Right in my very own bedroom.

Thanks darlin'. ;)

Exit, Stage Left.

2006-12-22T14:57:00.000+08:00

After a few long, depressing days and nights of rituals carried out, my grandfather's funeral finally concluded on Wednesday. There are always more than one way to look at things, and I can't help but feel the loss of a kin is a blessing in itself. When family gets together and share the common grief plaguing everyone's mourning hearts, the blood bond that ties just gets stronger amidst the sorrow. Having drawn a definitive end to his 77-years long journey, it is time for everyone to move on, and continue writing colourful chapters of our own journey.

Christmas beckons, and New Year's lurking around the corner. Feels like a festive season's package of an end of a beginning, the beginning of a new beginnging, and the beginning of an end all-in-one.

Coming from a family that doesnt' celebrate Christmas with too much elaboration (if any at all), I've been spending its eve with a good ol' BBQ session at my Aunt's for the past ~~decade~~ few years. Her birthday's on the 24th, so it happens we're invited every year thus far. Not that I don't enjoy the gathering that takes place, in fact the free flow of beer and wine, and abundance of cancer-inducing BBQ food makes it a somewhat enticing prospect - but it also means no opportunity for some "romantic Christmas Eve" dinner with my dear. And mind you, she's been making herself heard with regards to this disturbing trend. So this year, it appears, enough's.. not enough. We will still be spending Christmas Eve night over at my Aunt's birthday celebration (BBQ and alcohol included). But what's stopping my dear from impaling me on the chicken wings skewers is this time round, we'll be having a nice dinner on the 23rd Dec (read: tomorrow) either at one of our favourite restaurants, or in the comforts of home minus all pesky family members. ;) I'm looking forward to checking out what she has in store for me. *ahem*

Luck has it my friend Alex is back in town, and has taken some much appreciated initiative to organise a kick-about tomorrow at Clementi street soccer court. Having virtually been out of action ~~since...~~ for a long time, I am both thrilled and apprehensive at the prospect of playing ball again. Thrilled at being able to do my favourite sport after such a long hiatus, and worried of lasting just ~~five~~ 30 minutes before collapsing with cramps.
Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to meeting some old soccer kakis again. And I hope I'm not jinxing anything, but please let there be no rain in the morning tomorrow. Please.

An Eternal Reposal

2006-12-16T13:18:00.000+08:00

Just got news of the passing of my god-grandfather this morning, who was in the hospital after suffering a stroke.

Any loss of a relative (albeit non-blood-related in this case) seems to always hit me when I least expect it. But that's just how it works ain't it? When you start to take things for granted, when you are too caught up with your daily go-abouts, living life as it is, then -WHAM- it smacks you in the face, hard.

You always hear people telling you how fragile a commodity life is. And as much as we agree with them, we also never seem to fail forgetting the need to treasure life, and cherish the ones around you.

I embrace Atheism, but I never stop wondering who or what is pulling the strings backstage. True, we choose our own destiny, decide our paths. Certain things we do or say inevitably affect and shape our journey through life. But helplessness is evident when things happen - things beyond our control. We can surely grasp the notion that we hold the future in our own hands while being alive and breathing. But in an instant, when Life itself is taken away from you, abruptly or otherwise, what else can we do but resign ourselves to the fact our run's at its end?

Yes I know eating healthy and exercising will make you a less likely candidate for cardiovascular diseases. Not indulging in Johnny Walker drinking sessions is going to make your liver last longer. Looking right, left and then right before crossing the road. Not going out to dance in the rain during a thunderstorm. Not taking Viagras when you're 60. You can go ahead and do a million and one things, and yet you can never tell when your neighbour will show up at your doorstep with a shotgun, when a drunken ass decides to beat the red light and speed his Mercedes over you at a crossing, or when you lay down to sleep one day - but never wake up come sunrise.

Treasuring life isn't prolonging your existence, nor extending the lifespans of our loved ones. It is making sure you get the most out of it while you can. Give as much love as you have inside to those that matters, take in all the experiences and lessons in life with open arms.

I hope my god-grandpa left this world knowing he left behind many children and grandchildren who loved, love, and will love him, mourn him, and remember him.

Rest in peace.

That time of the month

2006-12-14T09:47:00.000+08:00

13th December.
75 months and counting.

Might've been just a simple lunch + movie day, but there's noone else that I could've spent such a day with and have as much fun as we did.

I love you dear.

testing..

2006-12-07T16:33:00.000+08:00

*Update: it's about 80% done, and this place's lookin' pretty decent eh? =D

Yes, I know it's messy, and the hotpink's gay, bear with it please.

My dear is a genius. She's fixing me a soon-to-be very nice blog based on her very limited html knowledge, amateurish trial-and-error methods, and expert pirating skills.

Blog Under Construction

2006-12-07T13:47:00.000+08:00

Sorry for any inconvenience caused.

=)

Achtung!

2006-12-06T10:03:00.000+08:00

I somehow believe the bleakness in layout and blandness in colors of this blog needs some immediate addressing.

I hereby engage my darling baby to revamp this place asap.

Watch this space. =Þ

*Updates: I'm getting a new phone! Will be posting more on that slightly later.
-tinge of excitement setting in-

**P.S: Dear, thanks for the troubles you took with the sms in my old phone. I would've done it myself if I could stay awake. I appreciate it dear.

No fish, prawns can?

2006-12-06T08:13:00.000+08:00

Time stands now at 9.15am.
Been up for almost 3 hours.
Started work for about 75 minutes.

There's something about this strugglin-to-keep-eyes open, incessant yawning, dreadful countdown to end of the day routine that's strangely familiar.

Granted, there's now the slight difference of a few folds more in terms of monetary returns come the end of the month, but I can't help feeling a subtle repugnance being back in front of the computer monitor on a daily 8am to ~~5pm~~ 7pm basis.

Perhaps this hint of disgruntledness is just a hint of what's yet to come. Maybe I'm just sensing the tip of this monstrous iceberg charging right at me. When the dust is settled and the game is set, would I be able to congratulate myself on a job well done?

Mediocrity. A term coined by those who do not believe being average is suffice. We remember all too clearly how things were back in school when the test papers are out and you get a "B". Some jokers plan parties to celebrate not flunking a paper for once. Some are contented with the grade given. And then there are the morons wailing on about missing that distinction.

Over the course of 22 years of life, you inevitably get to meet people of all genres. And I believe one gets influenced subconsciously with regards to your attitude towards personal achievements and goals.

Should I not have undergone 4 years of secondary level education at the top local institution, I would not have set lofty targets for myself.
Should I have worked half as hard as I ought to, I would have been easily enrolled at the top tertiary educational institution.
And because I didn't when I should have, I now have much more simplistic wants to aim for.
The problem herein is I know what I can achieve, I am just unable to fulfill it now that I have given myself lesser tools to work with. Bummer.

My family recently went on an overseas trip to Taiwan, and at a very renowned temple, my mom sought out this fortune teller for a reading on all three of her offsprings. Perhaps more shocked than surprised, apparently he described each and everyone one of our characters and personalities with astounding accuracy, based solely on our birthdates. Subsequently, it is revealed I have an extremely stark future laying in my path awaiting me.

To receive unpleasant news via a bogus source is disturbing at best. To hear of such unwelcomed revelations is catastrophic. It got her, and later my dear wife-to-be, to be in a heap of tears. Did they perceive that to be a propogation of truth, and saddened at the fact I would amount to nothing? Or were they merely worried the disclosure would translate into reality?

Well, personally I've yet to conclude what to make of it.

Incidentally, while reading through Alex's blog, I discovered in his very recent post, an excerpt of which is more or less exactly what I wanted to say right here. Being a fierce advocate against plagiarism, I've no choice but to quote that bugger:

"Ultimately, fate deals the cards and you play the hand given to you. A good player is one who makes a killing out of a good hand, and one who minimizes losses on a bad one. That's a very good maxim to go by and thus I learnt that sometimes you know you're screwed to begin with but it's how you see things through and how you carry yourself that truly signify maturity."

Took the bloody words right outta my mouth.

Donald Trump said, "Life is unfair, face it." I suspect he knew just how receptive, or otherwise, others would be to a comment like that.

Equity in any society is a mere castle-in-the-sky concept. We're born different. Our existence might have been created from a similar template, but you cannot deny we are each given contrasting attributes, be it slightly or largely so.

It serves as a solid explanation for everything. Like how I'm at least twice as good-looking compared to half the male population, and why I have half the metabolic rate I wish I had. I'm not repressing the idea of sporadically expressing your feelings of injustice in as explicit a manner as you wish to. What I'm suggesting is that by understanding how Life is a game with very ambiguous rules, finite resources, yet promises boundless rewards, would in turn serve as a bridle on unrestrained displeasure.

"You only live once. Live life to its fullest." Albeit being a thinly-veiled tagline shamelessly reused countless times to fine-tune consumers 'spend it while you can' approach to living, it remains a worthy enough mantra. For me at least.

Drink and eat while you can. Enjoy the fine things while you can. Bask in all the love around you. Dance to the simple joys that come your way each day.

For there always comes a time when we can't even if we want to.

You Jump. We Jump.

2006-12-05T17:32:00.000+08:00

Yet another case of "Man falling onto MRT tracks 'accident'"in Singapore.

Apparently some joker decided he wants to keep up with the latest local trend, and brought a halt to the train service early this morning at Yishun station.

What's up man?!

You get this fed up with your own kuku life, then go gorge yourself to death on your own pathetic faeces or something right? Die die also want to sabo others. Any idea how many Singaporeans got stuck in the massive human jam during the morning rush hour today? Just because you got sick of waking up everyday, must you cause hundreds of dedicated and motivated souls to show up late for work? By commiting a sin of such magnitude, you're not even gonna be allowed in queue at the Pearly Gates. You may not dig your homosexuality, butt-ugly facial features, and the complete absence of a sex life - but that doesn't give you the right to announce to the world in such an imbecile fashion.

If you ask me, if you need to end your life urgently, at least go out in style la.

Giving a few hundred commuters a "live" performance of having your insides spilled by a few tons of speeding metal... it's just not cool man.

Think of the troubles created for our policemen! Instead of committing their precious little time to sitting in neighbourhood police posts waiting for people make reports of their lost wallets and handphones, they have to waste time at a MRT station doing sai-gang. No air-con somemore.

Think of the literally quite bloody remains you left behind. How would you like it having to clean up after your own mangled self?

Seriously, we Singaporeans are not unfeeling. We might be a tiny tad too caught up with working hard to pay for our monthly installments for car and housing loans. I believe empathy resides in everyone of us, and perhaps it just happens Singaporeans are rather trigger-happy with displaying it. But in times of real tragedy, like when you find out your neighbour just had his Jaguar repossessed or when your colleague's son failed his PSLE, our compassionate side comes through.

I know some of you out there might be shedding a tear or two for the very unfortunate fella that jumped.

Personally? I'm very much saddened - at the thought of how his friends, family, relatives and loved ones, will have to cope with the pain of losing him via such an abrupt end.

A story

2006-12-02T13:25:00.000+08:00

This is a little story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.
There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.
Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.
Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody's job.
Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it.
It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.

Moral of the story?

Shit happens. Just make sure you don't end up being Somebody who gets the blame.

Tis' the season to be jolly...

2006-12-01T10:53:00.000+08:00

Tra lalalala lala la laaa...

Season's greetings!

You hardly need any reminders that it is THAT time of the year again seeing how the kiasu jokers that we are had all the Christmas lightings up in Orchard Road back in end-October. By the turn of November, it was hard to find a single store in town not having a "Crazy X'Mas SALE!" and "Mega Year-End SALE!" and whatnot. Singapore has her very own special way of announcing to the world we are kiasu. Even our winter (read: monsoon season) commenced early this time round.

Digressing, do you know "sale" literally means "dirty" in French? If you fail to share my amusement at that thought, try picturing yourself going to France and seeing stores brandishing "DIRTY!!!" signboards everywhere you go. I'm not sure how the French can stand touring Orchard Road keeping a straight face.

And then you have the bombardment of can't-get-em-out-of-your-head jingles. Who needs to purchase a 2006 Christmas Carols Collection CD set? Switch on your tv and you get to hear all your favourite X'mas tunes alongside truly hair-raisingly cheesy commercials. I have this insuppressible urge to go join the advertising sector in a personal bid to rescue the rapidly declining industry from the clutches of absolute morons running advertising firms nowadays. But more on that another time.

So December is a joyous occasion for everyone - shrewd businessmen thrive with astutely (or not so) crafted merchandising campaigns; silly consumers forking out pools of money to satisfy their very temporary materialistic cravings.

At this point I'd like to mention that I believe jewellery companies are reaping in truckloads of $$. And I don't mean only recently with the impending arrival of 25th December. With the local economy seemingly looking towards brighter times (or so we were told), Singaporeans flew straight out of their hibernation from - what else, shopping. And when you are a true blue Singaporean, starved of the luxury of indulging in your favourite decadence, what better things to procure than pampering yourself with bling-blings? And we're not talking about a splendid cut diamond ring, or a pair of exquisite earrings. We don't stop there. We spend, like we've never spent before. We buy and buy, and then buy somemore.

You end up with more bling-blings than all your combined limbs and torso can ever adorn.

[No darling, you will still get that diamond ring in due time. No, I'm not complaining. Yes, I still love you very much.]

But with the alarming number of commercials advertising their latest range of jewellery collection nowadays, you can hardly say I'm skeptical. The worst part? This does not signal the much-awaited end of the wives and girlfriends shopping for shoes, shoes, shoes, clothes, shoes, clothes, shoes and more shoes. No, I'm afraid the day has not arrived yet.

It isn't all doom and gloom though. Despite it a time you find yourself getting in dire financial situations at the end of all the merry-making, we still must make it a point to immerse ourselves in the joyous holiday. Screw making hay while the sun shines. It's about grabbing it while stocks last.

Go on! Empty your wallets! Reward yourself with that very expensive Fendi watch, Gucci pouch and Prada shoes! Go wine and dine yoursleves silly! Or simply spend insane amounts of your savings on Christmas gifts for your loved ones (read: Me).

Only 30 days till we bid goodbye to a very eventful 2006. Come the New Year, and ~~all of us will be silently hanging our heads in shame at achieving nothing~~ triumphantly punching the air at accomplishing our resolutions set 12 months ago.

I portend heavy bouts of beer-guzzling and vodka-downing to ~~mourn~~ celebrate when the time comes.

Cheers!

The End

2006-11-30T11:46:00.000+08:00

Hushes of fright escape from the soldiers
Boots quaking beneath thinning hearts
Ghosts of fears arrive in shudders
Veins pumping with freezing blood
The tools of the Reaper clasped tight
As gusts of Death dance and tease
Clouds of Despair mist their sight
It dawns upon them, a Grim disease
The Lunar Goddess spares a broken smile
Masked beneath the crescent's showers
They yearn to rise but their might is quelled
By a mellow crescendo of passing hours
Within the flesh, a storming will once shone
Now remains a shredded scarlet will
Amidst shadows of doom The Owl stands alone
In company of wraiths he sounds his last shrill
Like leeches from Hell clinging unto the Earth
Slain warriors slept on the bed of fires
At the feet of comrades standing above
Impaled upon bolts of piercing silence
Relieved only by ghastly screams of men
Kissed and feasted by the vilest fangs
With tormented eyes they looked to Heavens
And prayed for swiftness in their macabre end

When the going gets tough, the tough gets going.

2006-11-29T17:58:00.000+08:00

And here I am, once again, after a what by now seems like an inevitable hiatus after each and every entry. I take no pride in admitting I've been too lazy to spend some time putting together a post. Not that there wasn't intent, there was plenty of that, but regrettably it wasn't coupled with a sufficient enough dose of enthusiasm which would have driven me to sit down and translate the mental gibberish into well, textual ones.

Been spending quite an unhealthy chunk of my time at work flitting through blogs. Blogs I used to follow religiously, blogs belonging to friends of mine, and even blogs that doesn't make much sense of their existence. (Well mine doesn't either, so who am I to complain eh?)

I just got down to thinking about some inconsequential questions in my head, which soon developed into a full-blown argument with myself on whether or not I thought blogs are dumb.

It appears I've convinced myself that in this age and day, when having had a hard day's work at the office means returning home with teary eyes, stiff shoulders and a sore behind from all that computer time (instead of sporting new blood-red blisters from all the writing with a trusty Red Leaf blue ball point pen), keeping a blog and maintaining it is probably as hassle-free as it gets when it comes to keeping a diary of my hasty thoughts and dear memories.

Memories last for as long as we can remember them - sadly for most that would mean a much, much shorter timespan then we wish.

I distinctly felt more than a tinge of envy when I see how friends and foes alike have managed to pen down the highlights they reached in their lives, the pitfalls they've fallen into, with all the tears of joy and sorrow thrown in for good measure. It wouldn't hurt to be able to look back at certain chapters or even the most minor of episodes in your past, and in any case that you draw a blank, have a trusty old blog to fall back on to recapture the moments, as bitter or sweet as they were.

And if you are foolish enough to believe me, I have made up my mind to make blogging a more common endeavour from now on. Yes, probably half a decade late in jumping on the bandwagon. Sue me.

So much to say, so little time. Okay, so I'm working now, drawing a salary that pays peanuts, not mentioning that I crawl out of bed at 6am and return home 7.30pm - for 6 days a week. Just for the record, my peanuts =/= the peanuts some people now relate to as millions of dollars worth.

I'm not entirely pleased with having near zero time for myself outside work, deprived of sufficient rest, and returning to the lifestyle I so darn gleefully deserted on the day I ORD-ed. But a small sum of money comes in at the end of the month apparently, so the missus is happy enough.

Alright, seriously I know it's about time I got my arse off and got down to this, but with everything now so unparallel to what I envisioned I would be doing, I can't help feeling down in the pits sometimes. (read: every fucking day)

Darling girl of mine has been ever-so-supportive though, and I really appreciate her efforts of welcoming me home everyday in the best possible manner she can, and ushering me out of bed into the bathroom every morning at 6am SHARP. Thanks, a lot! =p

I miss being able to do what I want, when I want, how I want. But there always comes a time when you realise the existence of prerequisites, in this case the need to be financially self-sufficient before choosing to indulge in such a way of life. Seeing how I'm belonging to the other end of the spectrum now (and very possibly in the distant future as well), I can't really opt for anything else besides trudging through the many, many very painfully slow hours of work on a daily basis. Well, at least now I've got this blog to come and rant from time to time. I'm hoping this will delay the time needed till I go on a shooting-rampage along Orchard Road one fine day. (Disclaimer: I am just joking you bloody thick authoritorians. I won't do it, don't arrest me you morons.)

It is 10 minutes till time to knock off. I'm doing my very-happy-jig right now.

Just in case... IF, and only IF, I don't head back over here anytime soon again, here's a shoutout to anyone who knows me and is reading this: Thanks for remembering my existence. I miss you fellas, please please give me a call and drag me out for a drink sometime. Please.

=)

Au revoir, mes amis.

And that's the way the cookie crumbles...

2006-06-07T05:21:00.000+08:00

Having been released from my mandatory 2-year AND 4 months of service, (due to the felony I committed upon birth - being born a borderline healthy male in the sunny lands of Singapore), I have, in all truth, been stagnating.

Having had to bear with the barrage of questions that ultimately ask of me how it feels to be finally disengaged from the chains of NS, it dawned upon me very quickly that the freedom that all us comrades have pedestalled and worshipped upon, is very much over-rated.

I am sure everyone knows how true it is that we only yearn for something we do not have, can not have, should not have. And it is only when we get it that we ponder whether we've been creating the false sense of over-fueled desire during the wait.

Naturally there would be many a friend that wants to hurl profanities at me for demeaning the holy grail that is freedom, what more freedom after a 2 years (and some) painful journey. I agree that having been given back what we all thought we rightly deserved, and was forcefully taken from us at age 18/19, is a worthy cause for wanton celebrations. But I am also confident even more will nod in silence over the parallel I quote. "The thrill is in the hunt." No?

We scream and kick in defiance at the beginning, struggle to come to terms with our fate, persevere and endure afterwards, and when we cross the finishing line, it all becomes clear.

It truly doesn't matter how daunting the task at hand looks, how impossibly faraway the ending point is. At the end of the day, it is the journey that matters.

The tears of joy and sorrow shed, the emotions shared with peers - heights of exulting joy and depths of desolate despair over the tiniest of incidents, the highlights and memories engraved inside our heads during the times we trudged ahead with jaded feet.

It is sweet victory to reach a finishing line, but it is the pains and the struggles one endured to get there that makes it such.

I am pretty sure noone else will read this, but in case the day I get to bed Elisha Cuthbert does come to light, to all my friends (and foes) at OSC, I thank you. I thank you for bearing with my aloofness at times, I thank you for my self indulgence in emotions, I thank you for keeping my chin up when the going was tough, I thank you for keeping me sane in the face of overbearing superiors, I thank you for walking shoulder-to-shoulder by my side. My journey of NS would never be the same without you guys downing the fucking packed lunches together, watching tv and slacking during duties, rushing during times the workloads got impossible, the jokes cracked in abundance over the mundane daily work, the sheer fun of street soccer after work. I thank those who cared enough to spare me their time to try get to know me as a person, or even accommodate me as a friend. I apologise to all who I have not tried my best to allow you into my life, or I've not reached out enough to know you. Each and everyone one of you mattered. Even if you were to be a passing face in my life, be sure you were one passing face that I'd remember.

And so, having just read my buddy Alex's blog and notice how much he's looking forward to his ORD (or ascendence to divinity -_-"), I realise once again how much I missed the companionship of my colleagues. I revisited the bittersweet memories of the dreariness when we all had to drag our pitiful souls to the office, as well as the elatedness when we get together for a weekend soccer game or a drink in the evenings to reward ourselves for job not well done.

Since the day I stepped out of the office for the last time for quite a while back in April and breathed in the fresher air that is the entailment of my regained freedom, I have in fact been wondering how my colleagues are doing. But fear of being falsely accused of any hypocrisy stopped me in my tracks whenever I had the urge to get in touch and catch up with them to find out how they're coping.

As much as I hope not, perhaps it is such that we have to go on separate and very contrasting journeys henceforth.

Having postponed my job-hunting in the name of good ol' procrastination, I've done nothing but bath in the eternal sunshine of idleness. Heading for a short but long overdue family outing to Cameron Highlands this Friday (Yes gentlemen, I am set to miss the opening gameS of the World Cup 2006 Germany. Trust me I know the blasphemy I'm about to commit), and then almost immediately heading off for the sunny shores of Phuket, Thailand, I found myself to have grown immensely out of shape. If you thought I was fat, I appeal to you to revise that assessment to obesity. I finally got off my ass in hope of finding some long-lost fitness. It's a late start, but one nonetheless. I still appear to be unrecognisable to my friends and relative with my recent additions to my weight mass, but I think I'm on the right track to losing those cellulites. -fingers crossed a few times over-

Other things weighing me down, ahem, are certain minor issues. Life-changing magnitude type of issues. Like my possible career paths (if any. -insert bitter chuckle-), and how the heck I'm going to get myself there. Having amputating the larger part of my once-bright future by flunking my A' levels, I am somewhat fortunate to be in the shoes of someone contemplating over possible tertiary education. Having been ruthlessly discarded by the education system in Singapore, I find myself staring at the er, exciting prospect of leaving home sweet home in search of greener pastures.

Everyone wants to roll in the big bucks, cruise in their big-ass convertibles, chill in their luxurious penthouses, and spend life with a beautiful lady (or ladies). Some got there by sheer luck, some by exaggeratingly hard work, and others by being calculatingly smart.

I hear people saying it is not a matter of how impossible your goals are, but how much you want to achieve your goals.

I also hear people telling me it is good to have dreams and work towards them, so long as they are realistic dreams. <- anyone else thinks this is an overused unnoticed oxymoron?

So, I got myself down to thinking, what is it that I want?

Loads of money to spend? Definitely. But how much?
Sui sui car to drive? Sure. But how sui?
Big nice apartment? Of course. But how big?

(Notice how I am not able to discuss how many ladies and sex I want for obvious reasons. The missus might read this.)

Near every single "successful" men I've read about, saw on TV, know in real-life, they all have things in common. Things like the points stated above.

And I never fail to wonder, are they married? Do they have a wife and kids? How much family time do they get to spend with them every day? Do they have friends? Do they have time to watch football, attend concerts, go on holidays? Are they happy?

Call me idealistic, but I'd want to be rich AND happy. Of course, I'm saying this on the assumption that many rich men aren't as happy with their lives as they wish. And if given a choice between both, I'd gladly take 'happy' anytime.

I envision myself rolling down the highway in my new BMW 7 series, Hugo suit and all, and yet on the passenger seat is my prada briefcase instead of my lovely wife. I am probably rushing to a meeting, or rushing home late after one.

In a 'Scrubs'-style change of scenes, I am in my 1600cc Mazda, clad in my Nike polo tee and slacks. Next to me is my dear, picnic basket in hand. I am probably on my way to the beach for a weekend with my family.

And then I could be in my 1200cc Nissan, dressed in Giordano T-shirt and HangTen pants. Next to me would be the missus sulking about how she's not bankrolling the Singapore economy during the Great Singapore Sale, again.

Or I could be on bus 302, on my way home. Still living with my parents, single, lonely, penniless.
I know wealth comes at a price. A price many out there is more than willing to pay. In fact some sacrifice their loved ones, or even themselves, in the pursuit of a life amongst the atas.

I am blessed to have found someone I want to shower with love, and hopefully, lavish gifts upon. But I also know I will need to get somewhere in my career in order to provide her with everything she needs, everything she wants, everything she dreams of.

I'm a simple man. I want myself to be happily married at a young age, have a healthy income, and have enough time to spend with my family, be able to watch EPL every weekend, meet up with buddies for a drink at the pub, get together for a soccer match on Sundays.

Anything else above that is a bonus.

I am not seeking for others to concur with my ideals. I know for a fact how my peers will readily have all the moolahs first, THEN go seek their happiness with a bulging wallet.

I think I want to pursue my studies further, namely in the study of Law, because it was my childhood dream I never got around to working towards, and also because most lawyers earn enough to upsize their meals at Macdonald's.

But if there are so many conditions entailed with the realising of that dream, like leaving my loved ones behind for a good 4-5 years, shamelessly having my education fees financed by relatives, having to work 70-hour weeks to repay loan debts etc, I can't stop asking myself...

Is the juice worth the squeeze?

Somehow, I sense that I am trying to convince myself it is, rather than knowing it for a fact.

I know I've been taking a long time to decide, but honestly, I need more time. Time to look for clues to an answer, time to evaluate the situation, time to discover what I want.

I am not sure how things will turn out, but que sera sera. And I pray it turns out good.

For now, let's joga bonito in the month of the Beautiful Game.

Whatever will be, will be?

2006-03-05T11:19:00.000+08:00

Following the family debacle which took place a mere 24 hours ago, I find myself in a somewhat pensive mood, albeit littered with a generous amount of angst. It certainly did not help I had to be woken up at an ungodly hour, make a 1.5 hour journey to serve the godly task of weekend duty yet again.

As much as I'd like not to be drawn too much into the "arguments" which unfolded following a conversation which wasn't allowed to take place (on hindsight, it wouldn't have made much of a difference whether the discussion was held or not), I cannot help but feel immense anger, disappointment, and sheer disbelief at the complete immaturity and overbearingness displayed by a bunch of "adults".

I still cannot fathom how these people, on top of their "I am older, hence I am wiser" bullshit mentality, can strive to impose themselves on who they deem as seemingly lesser-beings. (read: anyone junior than the fossils themselves are)

Not only do they fail to respect and listen to the other party in a conversation, they abruptly cut you off with incessant insistence of how "right" their stance is and seek to end the discussion, with or without them knowing/admitting it. Kudos to them for wanting to indulge in their life lessons and impart valuable personal experiences to the younger generation, but what they do not know nor care, is they are indirectly influencing the decision-making of a young individual. It is one thing to advise or offer your opinion with regards to an impending major decision, but to put excessive pressure on a young man who has yet to make known his own thoughts and vision about how he wants to shape his own future, is honestly, an appaling gesture.

I strongly believe people like these need to be put in their places. As long as noone speaks up to them, stand up and outrightly debate or oppose their viewpoints, they will continue their ways. Simply because they begin on a notion that they are almost always right, they find no reason to think otherwise should others bow to their "wisdom".

There is that age-old argument that family is afterall, family. And that regardless of your opinion of a member of the family, bear in mind he/she is acting out of concern.

Fuck that.

I believe more often than not we are capable of discerning between someone who is acting out of love for you.

My subject of disgust are those who pretend they give a hoot, and due to their elderly status, bestow upon themselves the holy task of being THE source of valuable insight to the young ones.

If you truly want to help someone, there are many ways of going about it. There is huge difference in guiding the person to his destination, and making sure he is well-prepared to make the journey himself.

When a man needs a guide, he is lost. He wants directions, instructions, a clear set of do's and don'ts.

What happens when the man does not need to be told what to do? All we can do to help him, is to ensure he is well-equipped to embark on the journey himself. Which path to take and how to go about reaching his goal, he will decide for himself.

Sadly, there are too many who fail to understand this little difference. They want to go on a verbal diarrhea trip and dish out seemingly sapient advice - with total disregard to whether or not they are warranted.

I question myself as to why I reacted the way I did, and I'm sure those present would too.

I admit I used to be a brash, loud, straight-forward and impulsive teenager.

But the reason why I raised my voice without much reservations this time round was not because of my quick temper. I have experienced enough in my past few years to have grown into a different man. I reacted in that manner because they refused to listen, refused to respect what I have got to offer, refused me the opportunity to explain myself. They jumped the gun, and proceeded swiftly to make the call for game over. I wasn't going to let it go just like that.

But truth be told, one key factor that contributed to my retaliatory outbursts was that I have once been the victim of their treatment. I was subjected to the same pressure and stress my cousin, someone I value as a friend and family, would be going through in no time. I could not bear to stand by and watch them manipulate another young man's thinking, influence his parents outlook on their son's future undertakings, and then lean back to smirk in self-contentment. No, I will not allow myself to indulge in such apathy.

As I stand by the crossroad of life, grasping at thin air for support, inspiration, and motivation to help myself take a step towards a hopefully fulfilling path, I am inclined to welcome my close buddy to a similiar predicament. And it pains me to learn that prior to arriving at my side, he would be thrown at with an entire barrage of ideals and visions not belonging to his own.

"Our future is in our own hands..."

Yes, so please let it stay that way, contradicting retards.

And if you fellows insist on otherwise, I will fuck you bad.

Choices

2006-03-03T04:01:00.000+08:00

How often have we made a "choice", only to regret it in due time?

Every single waking moment of our lives, we are dealt with countless opportunities to exercise our right of freewill in its most basic essence. We make decisions, some inevitably carrying with them bigger possible repurcussions and outcomes. We all make choices, be it consciously or otherwise, under the illusion that we are truly in control to influence what we want out of a situation, a dilemma.

When thrown into quandaries, daunted by a whole barrage of both desirable and resentful possibilities, and posed with predicaments of having to arrange your thoughts in the most lucid manner possible... what are the chances we walk out of these pitholes patting ourselves on the back, smirking at our own genius in picking the correct path?

I have always, on a personal level, tried as much as possible not to allow myself into judging, or evaluating a decision that has been pondered upon, deliberated over, and then executed.

Not because I have too often made a mistake in this department, but rather due to the simple principle I hold true to - I do not believe anybody knows "right" from "wrong" (especially when we are talking about making a choice)

I have my healthy share of opinions on the right vs wrong argument, but that I shall discuss on another occasion. =)

Why, do we look back over our shoulders, almost too immediately after coming to a decision over a matter which required our deliberation, and then worriedly seek for assurance that the choice was a right one?

Why, do we lie wide awake in the dark late into the nights, kicking and bashing ourselves in silence over a poor judgement which led to a wrong call?

We humans are all born like clean slates. We are more than eager to be impressed upon by our parents or guardians, more than willing to be influenced by them, in so doing shaping the initial mannerisms and mentalities we adopt. We soon seek assurance from these same people for almost every single gesture, action or speech. We want to know, like it or not, whether we were "right" or "wrong" for doing something.

But how much trust should we place in the judges of our decisions, the people we seek assurances and approvals from? Who are they to know, to see, to evaluate, and to pass the final verdict on our decision-making be it big or small?

When we come face to face with yet another crossroad in life, presumingly a major one, most will tend to lavish upon themselves the luxury of more time with which to work with in their decision-making. Wise move, or simply an act of redundant and foolish self-torture?

You can weigh your options for days, project the outcomes for weeks, calculate the risks for months, and still not be guaranteed the ability of picking out the choice which reaps more benefits. Should you happen to be pleased with the results, you automatically sign your own approval form, and that decision will be filed as a right one. You could of course also have opted for a swashbuckling, no-fear approach and choose with wild abandon, and allow "destiny" to fulfill its course. And should you happen to be pleased with the results, you automatically sign that little self-approval form, and that decision will also be filed as a right one.

Let's say, after prolonged see-sawing self debates, you finally believe in your careful deliberations and you decide on the path to take. You happen to hate the eventualities that follow, you immerse yourself with regret, and this choice will be unsuspectingly categorised as a wrong one. And conversely, you could act on the spur of the moment, start on the journey you feel like embarking on in that split second - you decide with little or no hesitation. Alas, should that fruit of your choice be a bitter one to swallow, this choice would also end up in the "wrong" basket.

I think you see where I'm coming at.

What is wrong? What is right?

You ate the Blue pill.

Before you utter a word, before your heart starts groaning in regret or leaping with joy, before your head wants to force an opinion on that decision...

Bear this in mind: By choosing the Blue pill, you have forfeited the chance of knowing what the Red pill offers.

And that being the case, how would you ever know which is poison, and which is meat?

Prophet Mohammed Caricatures Aftermath

2006-02-20T09:55:00.000+08:00

Below is an article directly quoted from stated source. Came across it and felt it rang so much truth in it, I had to quote it.

Seriously, things are getting out of hand... if only they could just reject, and not react.

Commentary: Why I Published Those Cartoons
JyllandsPosten/19Feb2006
By FLEMMING ROSE, culture editor of Jyllands-Posten

Childish. Irresponsible. Hate speech. A provocation just for the sake of provocation. A PR stunt. Critics of 12 cartoons of the prophet Muhammad published in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten have not minced their words. They say that freedom of expression does not imply an endorsement of insulting people's religious feelings, and besides, they add, the media censor themselves every day. So, please do not teach us a lesson about limitless freedom of speech.

* What lies behind the name Morgenavisen Jyllands-Posten?
* US: Cartoons not the problem
* The editor and the 12 cartoons
* The editor's dilemma
* No Holocaust Cartoons in Morgenavisen Jyllands-Posten
* Honourable Fellow Citizens of the Muslim World
* Chronology
* The story behind the drawings
I agree that the freedom to publish things doesn't mean you publish everything. Jyllands-Posten would not publish pornographic images or graphic details of dead bodies; swear words rarely make it into our pages.
So we are not fundamentalists in our support for freedom of expression.
But the cartoon story is different.
Those examples have to do with exercising restraint because of ethical standards and taste; call it editing. By contrast, I commissioned the cartoons in response to several incidents of self-censorship in Europe caused by widening fears and feelings of intimidation in dealing with issues related to Islam. And I still believe that this is a topic that we Europeans must confront, challenging moderate Muslims to speak out. The idea wasn't to provoke gratuitously -- and we certainly didn't intend to trigger violent demonstrations throughout the Muslim world. Our goal was simply to push back self-imposed limits on expression that seemed to be closing in tighter.
At the end of September, a Danish standup comedian said in an interview with Jyllands-Posten that he had no problem urinating on the Bible in front of a camera, but he dared not do the same thing with the Koran.
This was the culmination of a series of disturbing instances of self-censorship. Last September, a Danish children's writer had trouble finding an illustrator for a book about the life of Muhammad. Three people turned down the job for fear of consequences. The person who finally accepted insisted on anonymity, which in my book is a form of self-censorship. European translators of a critical book about Islam also did not want their names to appear on the book cover beside the name of the author, a Somalia-born Dutch politician who has herself been in hiding.
Around the same time, the Tate gallery in London withdrew an installation by the avant-garde artist John Latham depicting the Koran, Bible and Talmud torn to pieces. The museum explained that it did not want to stir things up after the London bombings. (A few months earlier, to avoid offending Muslims, a museum in Goteborg, Sweden, had removed a painting with a sexual motif and a quotation from the Koran.)
Finally, at the end of September, Danish Prime Minister Anders Fogh Rasmussen met with a group of imams, one of whom called on the prime minister to interfere with the press in order to get more positive coverage of Islam.
So, over two weeks we witnessed a half-dozen cases of self-censorship, pitting freedom of speech against the fear of confronting issues about Islam. This was a legitimate news story to cover, and Jyllands-Posten decided to do it by adopting the well-known journalistic principle: Show it, don't tell it. I wrote to members of the association of Danish cartoonists asking them "to draw Muhammad as you see him." We certainly did not ask them to make fun of the prophet. Twelve out of 25 active members responded.
We have a tradition of satire when dealing with the royal family and other public figures, and that was reflected in the cartoons. The cartoonists treated Islam the same way they treat Christianity, Buddhism,
Hinduism and other religions. And by treating Muslims in Denmark as equals they made a point: We are integrating you into the Danish tradition of satire because you are part of our society, not strangers. The cartoons are including, rather than excluding, Muslims.
The cartoons do not in any way demonize or stereotype Muslims. In fact, they differ from one another both in the way they depict the prophet and in whom they target. One cartoon makes fun of Jyllands-Posten, portraying its cultural editors as a bunch of reactionary provocateurs.
Another suggests that the children's writer who could not find an illustrator for his book went public just to get cheap publicity. A third puts the head of the anti-immigration Danish People's Party in a lineup, as if she is a suspected criminal.
One cartoon -- depicting the prophet with a bomb in his turban -- has drawn the harshest criticism. Angry voices claim the cartoon is saying that the prophet is a terrorist or that every Muslim is a terrorist. I read it differently: Some individuals have taken the religion of Islam hostage by committing terrorist acts in the name of the prophet. They are the ones who have given the religion a bad name. The cartoon also plays into the fairy tale about Aladdin and the orange that fell into his turban and made his fortune. This suggests that the bomb comes from the outside world and is not an inherent characteristic of the prophet.
On occasion, Jyllands-Posten has refused to print satirical cartoons of Jesus, but not because it applies a double standard. In fact, the same cartoonist who drew the image of Muhammed with a bomb in his turban drew a cartoon with Jesus on the cross having dollar notes in his eyes and another with the star of David attached to a bomb fuse. There were, however, no embassy burnings or death threats when we published those.
Has Jyllands-Posten insulted and disrespected Islam? It certainly didn't intend to. But what does respect mean? When I visit a mosque, I show my respect by taking off my shoes. I follow the customs, just as I do in a church, synagogue or other holy place. But if a believer demands that I, as a nonbeliever, observe his taboos in the public domain, he is not asking for my respect, but for my submission. And that is incompatible with a secular democracy.
This is exactly why Karl Popper, in his seminal work "The Open Society and Its Enemies," insisted that one should not be tolerant with the intolerant. Nowhere do so many religions coexist peacefully as in a democracy where freedom of expression is a fundamental right. In Saudi Arabia, you can get arrested for wearing a cross or having a Bible in your suitcase, while Muslims in secular Denmark can have their own mosques, cemeteries, schools, TV and radio stations.
I acknowledge that some people have been offended by the publication of the cartoons, and Jyllands-Posten has apologized for that. But we cannot apologize for our right to publish material, even offensive material. You cannot edit a newspaper if you are paralyzed by worries about every possible insult. I am offended by things in the paper every day: transcripts of speeches by Osama bin Laden, photos from Abu Ghraib, people insisting that Israel should be erased from the face of the Earth, people saying the Holocaust never happened. But that does not mean that I would refrain from printing them as long as they fell within the limits of the law and of the newspaper's ethical code. That other editors would make different choices is the essence of pluralism.
As a former correspondent in the Soviet Union, I am sensitive about calls for censorship on the grounds of insult. This is a popular trick of totalitarian movements: Label any critique or call for debate as an insult and punish the offenders. That is what happened to human rights activists and writers such as Andrei Sakharov, Vladimir Bukovsky, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Natan Sharansky, Boris Pasternak. The regime accused them of anti-Soviet propaganda, just as some Muslims are labeling 12 cartoons in a Danish newspaper anti-Islamic.
The lesson from the Cold War is: If you give in to totalitarian impulses once, new demands follow. The West prevailed in the Cold War because we stood by our fundamental values and did not appease totalitarian tyrants.
Since the Sept. 30 publication of the cartoons, we have had a constructive debate in Denmark and Europe about freedom of expression, freedom of religion and respect for immigrants and people's beliefs. Never before have so many Danish Muslims participated in a public dialogue -- in town hall meetings, letters to editors, opinion columns and debates on radio and TV. We have had no anti-Muslim riots, no Muslims fleeing the country and no Muslims committing violence. The radical imams who misinformed their counterparts in the Middle East about the situation for Muslims in Denmark have been marginalized. They no longer speak for the Muslim community in Denmark because moderate Muslims have had the courage to speak out against them.
In January, Jyllands-Posten ran three full pages of interviews and photos of moderate Muslims saying no to being represented by the imams. They insist that their faith is compatible with a modern secular democracy.
A network of moderate Muslims committed to the constitution has been established, and the anti-immigration People's Party called on its members to differentiate between radical and moderate Muslims, i.e. between Muslims propagating sharia law and Muslims accepting the rule of secular law. The Muslim face of Denmark has changed, and it is becoming clear that this is not a debate between "them" and "us," but between those committed to democracy in Denmark and those who are not.
This is the sort of debate that Jyllands-Posten had hoped to generate when it chose to test the limits of self-censorship by calling on cartoonists to challenge a Muslim taboo. Did we achieve our purpose? Yes and no. Some of the spirited defenses of our freedom of expression have been inspiring. But tragic demonstrations throughout the Middle East and Asia were not what we anticipated much less desired. Moreover, the newspaper has received 104 registered threats, 10 people have been arrested, cartoonists have been forced into hiding because of threats against their lives and Jyllands-Posten's headquarters have been evacuated several times due to bomb threats. This is hardly a climate for easing self-censorship.
Still, I think the cartoons now have a place in two separate narratives, one in Europe and one in the Middle East. In the words of the Somali-born Dutch politician Ayaan Hirsi Ali, the integration of Muslims into European societies has been sped up by 300 years due to the cartoons; perhaps we do not need to fight the battle for the Enlightenment all over again in Europe. The narrative in the Middle East is more complex, but that has very little to do with the cartoons.
Flemming.rose@jp.dk
Flemming Rose is the culture editor of Jyllands-Posten.

Bliss

2005-12-13T00:33:00.000+08:00

You know you're in bliss when you're awaken in the mornings by the nudgings and coaxings from the love of your life.

You know you're in bliss when the love of your life makes sure you start the day off on the right note by cheering you up even when she's not feeling all too chirpy herself.

You know you're in bliss when the love of your life makes you freshly hand-squeezed orange juice (no preservatives, artificial nor natural flavourings and colourings added) when you're feeling thirsty and yearning for a cold drink.

You know you're in bliss when every moment spent apart, you know that both of you are thinking of each other all the time.

You know you're in bliss when you fall asleep with the love of your life lying next to you, kissing you good night come bedtime.

I love you dear. Happy 63 months.

Suicide

2005-11-04T23:18:00.000+08:00

Suicide.

It's weird how many of us have heard the saying that "Suicide is not a solution."

Well to begin with, I have to disagree with that notion. It might not be a good solution to any problems, but you cannot deny that it IS a viable one afterall. Let's look at it this way.

A common tv-series drama scenario would portray this middle-aged man, knee-deep in debts, lost his wife (to another man) and child (probably in a tragic accident), mortgaged his house and car, jobless...

In his shoes, what would you do?
Consider the options that lay before you? I am sure you will contemplate suicide at some point in time, no? It is ever so easy for third parties to advise on a "sensible" way out. To take things on the chin, brace yourself for whatever despair that looms, and live life out like we all ought to.

But what is so "non-sensible" about choosing what many term "the easy way out"?

Ever so often, that fella commits the act of ending his own life. He, upon death's premature arrival, puts an end to his persistent nightmares and troubles. He no longer dreads each new day. He no longer feels the pain within his tormented soul. He no longer has to contend with the daily struggles. Nor does he have to carry on with a life he doesn't want to prolong.

Is that not a solution?

A solution is:
The method or process of solving a problem.
The answer to or disposition of a problem.
(courtesy of Dictionary.com)

Perhaps with death, problems remain and linger. They are not disposed of, but merely transferred onto other individuals.

But the suicide manages to relief himself of his responsibility of shouldering the problems. He has escaped.

Ah. This brings me to my point.

Suicide may be proven to not be a solution, or merely a poor solution at best. But noone can discredit it for providing an escape route for the trapped.

Preachings aside, I'm confident escaping from an undesirable situation is the easiest way out. Admittedly it is by far the right approach to a situation, but it is a readily adopted one.

So, if one was merely seeking to redress his actions via escaping, then suicide would be a justifiable choice to undertake wouldn't it?

In life, we are so frequently presented with less-than-peachy paths to trudge through. Pitfalls aplenty, mudpools lay in ambush. We always have the choice of ending our journey whenever we deem fit, in which case we avoid the dirt and grime and pain from a fall.

Perhaps it is too easy to stop in our tracks in solitude. But I have also realised, that when the urge arises for one to just opt for an early end to a treacherous patch in the quest called Life, it never fails to reward if you gather your courage and senses and push on.

There are people to meet, friends to treasure, foes to bicker with, special someones to love, incidents of tears and joy to experience, lessons to learn, expectations to reach, dreams to fulfill...

Each and everytime you look past the "Exit" sign and proceed in Life, you stand to gain so so much.

The next time suicide presents itself before you in its most delectable form at a most desolate moment in life... think not of how enticing the escape route is, but rather consider the regret of forgoing what may be in store for you further down the road ahead.

P.S.
Should you one day be saved from the grapples of self-destruction and go on to lead an enriching life and achieve unimaginable success due to this short passage I penned, I would be most delighted if you could show your appreciation towards me in the form of monetary and materialistic rewards.

=D

Enough

2005-11-04T22:52:00.000+08:00

Do you realise that there is a thin line, a boiling point... and that for me, I have long crossed that pivotal marking which determines how much angst is injected into a reaction to additional bullshit in my life?

I understand your frustrations and I feel the pain from the thorns of concern embedded in your heart.

But I know what ought to be done, I know what should be the "right" path for me, I know I should remain calm. I know anger is not, and will not, be helping things.

It is too simple to teach me what to do. But I need none of that.

What I yearn for is understanding. Understand the fact that I have long been adopting as passive as possible a resolve towards the many problems speared towards me. I have listened, and tried to conform to what is deemed a right set of protocols to abide by when the alarm bells ring. Understand the fact that there is always a threshold for everything and everyone. And for me, I have swallowed an incredible amount of nonsense for way too long.

So much so that the slightest hint of injustice, any attempts to vilify my reputation, any slanderous remarks to malign me -- all of which will ignite the rages within. I explode.

I am sorry you are caught in the flames and burnt time and time again. But do you have any knowledge of the pains I suffer each time I uncontrollably erupt in a blaze of fury and scorch those in my paths unknowingly?

I do not need you to teach me the rights and the wrongs, the shoulds and the should nots... for I know them too well.

All I seek is for you to douse my charred wounds in whatever love you can still muster for me...

Do you not know that? Or are you unable to provide that?

I am sorry.

Content

2005-10-24T04:00:00.000+08:00

Having found myself successfully wading through the deep murky waters of procrastination, I arrive at this present shrine of serenity.

I am beginning to realise the simplistic wonders this particular place I pay homage to can offer.

As I sit in near-total darkness, choked by the thick silence in the air, allowing my fingers to tap away with ease, I do feel this curious melange of sensations welling up inside. Apprehensive-excitement. Reserved-contentment.

It's becoming increasingly clear how much joy I can discover on this journey of "blogging", yet I fear the words published by yours truly at the end of each day may just turn out as vapid pools of incoherent ramblings.

I, however, have intended to shrug off all doubts for now. Perhaps the constrite sinner in my soul seeks immediate refuge in the form of freedom. Free from the chains of self-bounding forces found in most of us largely known as Reluctance. I am no longer hesitant to prise the secrets from my heart and display them in this private depository. For I foresee this could indeed be an enriching and self-fulfilling journey, regardless of how short it may be.

Where shall I begin, though?

I would love to provide a cursory detailing of myself. But, I am afraid that this entry would have to be discontinued henceforth. I will, try my very best, to finish what I started at an opportune moment. (hopefully soon of course)

Pardon me for postulating that you, reading this, will be eager enough to read more of my not-so-succinct version of life story, and thus be checking back in due time. =)

Duty calls. Bah.

Random Testings =)

2005-10-24T03:54:00.000+08:00

Your Birthdate: February 26

Your birth on the 26th day of the month (8 energy) modifies your life by increasing your capability to function and succeed in the business world.In this environment you have the skills to work very well with others thanks to the 2 and 6 energies combining in this date. There is a marked increase in organizational, managerial, and administrative abilities.
You are efficient and handle money very well. You're ambitious and energetic, while generally remaining cooperative and adaptable. You are conscientious and not afraid of responsibility.
Generally sociable and diplomatic, you tend to use persuasion rather than force. You have a wonderful combination of being good at both the broad strokes and the fine detail; good at starting and continuing. This birthday is practical and realistic, often seeking material satisfaction.

Arrival

2005-09-22T20:38:00.000+08:00

Embarkment of each journey has to begin with one single step.

And so I arrive at the commencement of my journey - through elapsed times of euphoria and sorrow.

As I perambulate about the shallow depths of the pond of memories...
I will be guilty of circumlocution, but I do not seek to correct that.
I might be dilatory with regards to updates of this blog, and I do not seek to repress that too.

Perhaps I shall divulge a tad more detail of myself than I originally planned to. Or maybe, not.

Indeed, I sense this very ground could become an incipient outlet of personal ramblings, however rational I will attempt to present them.

I am positive, I will learn the ways of being a Man whilst on the paths of this trip.

My dear friends, I hope we achieve comity in the coming days, regardless of what words of poison and honey I spew.