Couldn't wait to test the new toy the staff-room folks chipped in to get me. The equipment is gorgeous but the quality of the photographs still depends a lot on the skill of the photographer so the "Delete" button is still the most useful function so far. Nevertheless, here's a couple of shots from last night's event:

Some of the staff-room folks, stalwarts, spouses and dates.

Long-time pals: Mary, Jen and Adrian

And a couple that I took of the in-Laws, nephews and dogs during the short outing we had this afternoon:

More people we're bringing to sample the tranquility of Upper Seletar Reservoir.

The dogs get an airing as well.

BTW, The Pitstop is now open only on weekends, in case you're interested to try out the food. You should.

And finally, to test night-shooting capabilities I took this pic of Momo in near darkness:

Apart from Momo's scary eyes, night-shooting seems to work just fine!

A magnificent gift, thanks, guys!

Am now trying to collect pix off other cameras floating around last night. Amy and Gerald, care to d/l me shots for my collection?

Anything I say will be incriminating, but verbalisation is necessary. So like a band-aid over a wound on a hairy limb has to be ripped off quickly, so the following must be immediately made known to all:

I've been lied to, cheated and manipulated by my wife, and all my friends who have colluded with her are equally culpable of some very high-quality deception. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I have over the past 3 weeks been pushed, prodded and shoved into inviting myself to my own surprise birthday party. The effort to make such elaborate and extravagant plans AND keep the whole thing from me must have been Herculean for everyone, though I must also admit that I have been quite a Magoo the whole time too.

As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years,
Or if due to strength, eighty years.... (Psalm 90:10)
If I consider myself an individual with the additional quality of "strength" then the occasion marked the half-way point of my life-expectancy, according to biblical best-case-scenario. And it was truly a surprise to see so many well-wishers giving me their support and encouragement in the last few hours as I topped the crest and began my descent over-the-hill. Thank you folks so much!

To mi familia, we've kept it tight, and we've kept it together. My early years have been a source of anxiety and uncertainty for you, but tonight you got to see that despite everything, you can be rest assured that I am in the good, safe hands of people who care about me as much as you ever did.

My in-Laws, you've done a great job in raising your daughter who has so much love to give that I'm discovering every day there's always more where it came from.

Adrian, Lay Lee, Jen, Mary, Malcolm (and darling little Janice), you bridged a gap for me where at one time you were as large as my circle of friends went. You are the professional, working people I've kept in touch with but you are also people of vision and ideals which your busy-work never got in the way of. That's what I've always admired about you.

Tina, artist, muse and teacher and the link to my aesthetic self, sad to say that when the realities of love and marriage hit home, the arts were the first to be sacrificed in favour of bread-and-butter responsibilities. I ran away from the circus and gave up my dreams, but I found a new reality in which I can be just as happy in. See you back in rehearsal sometime!

Joyce, you never knew those many years ago what you wrought when you inadvertently put June and me together. You were the fulcrum of the turning point in my life and I am truly grateful to you for your thoughtfulness.

Colleagues, friends, playmates: The Gutter Boyz (Anthony, Vince, Yee), Gerald with Kim and little Edward, NBS, JY, Mel, Luanne, you make work so unlike work. We bitch, we rib, we gossip, we sweat, we compete, we eat together and we really know how to have unabashed, unadulterated, uninhibited fun. I couldn't ask for better working partners.

Party coordinators: Amy and Weng, June and everyone else recount the stress and effort you took over the event. How much fetching and carrying you did to get the logistics set up just right; the scoldings you received for the security breaches you committed though it's understandable that considering the many things you were juggling small mistakes were bound to occur; and the thought you and Vince, Anthony and Wendy put into the right theme, setting and atmosphere to make the occasion so memorable. Special thanks to all of you.

And to the CEO of Party Central, my wife, June, you have a knack for surprises and every year tops the previous. You know me so well and you know how to put that knowledge to good use. It's not just the effort of the last 3 weeks that brought everyone together but rather it's been my life with you these last 5 years that's why everyone could come together on this day to celebrate. If you haven't been keeping in touch with everyone faithfully as you have been, the guest-list would have been much shorter due to forgetfulness and neglect, which I admit is my most major character flaw. You make up for my shortcomings and I knew from the start I married the right woman. I love you!

I love all your gifts. I have never made such a haul since my first childhood, and you have outdone yourselves in generosity. But rather than itemize the gifts, I will say that the memory of your presence will always be the more precious to me. Gadgets wear out, wearables eventually become unwearable, food and other perishables er... perish, but you were there for me, and that memory is something we will share together in my mind as well as yours. That's what counts.

And special thanks to the Drama Club who postponed the Senior's Farewell BBQ till next week so that tonight's festivities could go on as planned.

Now I have to ask, what have I done to deserve such favour from all of you? And the crickets chirp in the darkness of the empty cinema hall...

Thanks, everyone, for a brilliant 40th swing 'round the sun!

Edit 01:
Amy is right. There's no need for me to question what I do or do not deserve. The simple truth is, my friends are nice people and the question takes away so much from their good intentions. I see that now, and I won't bring it up again. Now that's a biblical insight worth gaining.

Was appointed Designated Driver to take aged parent (mom) to cousin's farewell party. Cousin is leaving for England on a 5-year apprenticeship in organ grinding building and repair. There are only 2 such apprenticeships offered by H. & H. every year so cousin's off to learn the ropes and become the only guy licensed to service the pipes at the VCH, the Durian, and 9 other locations in Singapore when he takes over from the current one upon his return.

He's one fella who has made a mid-life career switch -- he worked in Education until recently -- and has given it up to pursue his personal esoteric dream. Our family Christmas parties will suffer now that there's no one left of his calibre to play the keyboard to accompany our carrolling. Oh well, the neighbours will just have to put up with it for a while.

Spent much of the evening watching a ping-pong discussion between Architect Uncle and Pipe Organ Cousin over organ mechanics and specs. Usually eyeball rolling subject matter but cousin has such passion for it that I was rolling my eyeballs right-left-right instead of up-up-comatose.

If you have a pipe organ that needs maintenance in 5 years' time, I can pass on his contact.

Thanks to June and her magical efficiency we've got our tix to fly and room in BKK so now we need to get the proper personal admin done. Leave applications have to go out to our respective Heads, and NS overseas notification needs to be submitted. A few clicks online should do it. And then we wait.

Meantime, life goes on. M2 met Eddie again for his bi-monthly grooming. I've been quite lazy with M2, and you can tell. Dusty exterior, floor mats full of bits of grass and other vegetation dragged in by an assortment of feet, white dog and cat fur that stand out so conspicuously from the carbon black leather upholstery, dashboard turning slowly greyish under an accumulation of street dust.

I knew Eddie would faint when he saw the extent I would be pushing his grooming service, so I didn't hang around for another round of lectures on proper car maintenance procedures. I parked, took out my bowling ball from the trunk, tossed the key to Eddie then walked very quickly towards Orchid Bowl for a round of "secret" training.

I decided not to pick up a new 13 pounder for the time being but since the competition is next week I had to reacquaint myself with my 11 quickly. Did reasonably well with the lighter ball so I should still be able to continue using it for another while more. I'll be glad to save the $200+. Never know when another major expense might become unavoidable. Heh.

By the time I went back to collect M2, Eddie was just putting the finishing touches on the rear-view mirror. He'd done a great job, as always. Shiny exterior, polished upholstery and dashboard components, spotlessly vacuumed mats; enough of a morale boost good for a couple of days, at least. With my luck it'll probably rain tomorrow, but I'm used to that already.

As soon as I arrived, Eddie saw his chance to close shop and go home. "Just in time!" he said, then promptly skipped off. No time to harangue neglectful driver then. Saved by the bell!

Making further plans for BKK. Now we've got Wendy helping us look for options for flight and hotel. Guess it's really going to happen so I'm going to mentally prepare myself. Fodor's, Lonely Planet and other travel guides are going to be my Required Reading for now. Maybe I'll even schedule some time to hang out at the little Thai supermarket downstairs to absorb atmosphere, examine (and sample?) the contents of those intriguing bottles and jars on the shelves, and to listen to people speaking Thai to see if I can make any sense of it.

Actually I'm quite reasonably well travelled. I've just not visited my back door before. Maybe I'm overreacting?

Edit 01:
Temporarily interrupted. June came in to boot me off the PC so she could surf the Tiger Airways website in search of a better deal than the one we received earlier today. Indeed, air tix and accommodation do seem somewhat cheaper if we book through our local budget airline.

June and I called Amy and put her on speakerphone so we could discuss these new possibilities. Such animation, such excitement in our voices as we struggled with the arithmetic involved in figuring out which were our more financially viable options. Now it's up to Vince and HP whether these new rates and schedules are acceptable to them.

Considering how psyched my travelling companions are about this trip, maybe what I'm planning to do isn't such an overreaction after all.

A historic occasion for June: I'm actually considering taking a trip to BKK with her. Call me prejudiced, spoiled, whatever, I have yet to be convinced that there is any attraction there for me to enjoy. Shopping? I don't even shop here. Tourist attractions? Puh...leeze. Beach? BKK is landlocked, no beach in sight. Food? The less my stomach encounters spicy, sour cuisine, the better it is for the sewer system. Beautiful exotic women? Umm... let's just say that I become a tongue-tied nitwit just facing ordinary local women already. Imagine what an exotic beauty could do to me (let me clarify: you're supposed to imagine the worst case scenario, ok?).

Yeah, ok. Very stereotypical view of what the Thai capital might offer me. On her first trip, June immediately wanted to go home, but she stuck around (no flights available for the next six hours, probably) and fell in love with the place. No telling that I might do the same too. Or not. But I'll never know until I try, ain't that right?

Much as I prefer travelling alone, in order to convince me to go where I've always resisted going, I feel better going with the right company. June, of course, but she's got her objectives locked in already so I'm going to need others around with perhaps other more diversified interests so at least I can keep my own options open. Who's signing up for this little cross-border jaunt? Well, let's take down a few names and see, shall we...?
1. Amy
2. Vince
3. HP
Think the list is just about full. How about it, Anthony? Wendy?

I haven't handled a 13-pounder since NSF days but I actually found one that fit my fingers at SAFRA this evening. Since Amy bought an 11-pounder for herself and my own 11-pound throws have been going wild these last few games, I theorized that I needed a heavier ball for better control. My 1st game with the house 13 went just fine: 155. Then in subsequent games I started throwing inconsistently again. Scores were still ok, though: ranging from the 130s to 160.

So now I have a decision to make: do I have to get a new ball because my current one is too light for me? If I do, do I get a 13, or heavier? How much will a new ball improve my game? And what is to become of my current 11-pounder? June says she'll take it over as long as we seal up the current holes and re-drill new holes for her fingers, but my poor ball will look horribly disfigured if we do.

Also, budget-wise I don't have that kind of cash to spare right now. I promised myself an austerity drive for the next couple of months just to make my bank account look a little healthier than it is now. Ha ha.

Dinner afterwards found us at the last coffee shop on Casuarina Road, ostensibly to share a couple of noodle dishes amongst Anthony, Wendy, Vince, Amy, June and yours truly. But the crabs looked irresistible so we ordered 2 of the Sri-Lankan variety, one steamed and the other in chilli. Big suckers they were, lots of meat and full of flavour. Wonder if crabs, like oysters, taste best in months that don't have the letter 'R' in their names, i.e., May, June, July, August? These fellas sure sustained the theory.

On the way home from dinner, M-i-L called while I was driving and asked for the Animal Rescue Squad to spring back into action. One of her neighbours had picked up a Pomeranian stray and, mistaking M-i-L's flat for an animal shelter, left the poor boy-boy with her. She in turn called us, knowing our reputation for animal philanthropy.

He turned out to be slightly bigger than Mimi, but a lot friendlier. Our idea was to bring him back to our place and keep him till we could find a good home for him. This turned out easier than we expected. There was a cute teenage girl hanging out with her cute boyfriend in the exercise area on M-i-L's void deck. June immediately went into her sales-pitch mode and after some exploration of the girl's options, allowed her to play with him. Sold. 'nuff said.

Just as we were bidding the new "family" farewell, the dog though he would demonstrate his affection for me by humping my leg. One quick extrication later and June and I fled for the M2 before anyone could change their minds.

Good deed done for the day!

Utterly boring day with very little activity. So boring and I have so little to report that I'll just make a short comment on my marking of essay assignments so far: Either I'm getting more generous, or the kids are writing better, more thoughtful essays. No failures so far, and a handfiul of actually logical, readable scripts that seem above the usual average I'm used to marking. Maybe a whole weekend is too generous a time limit for them to get a short essay done?

Other than that, 3 hours of CSI (thanks, AXN!) on a Sunday night and my eyes feel like they've been burned out of their sockets.

Oh, and June's acquired her own set of Uno cards and she's practicing for a rematch. Guess who her sparring partner is? Ouch...! *nurses bruised ego.

Went browsing around Suntec City in the early evening and found a little chocolatier called, "Royce'," a brand of Japanese chocolate. The outlet is run by a Japanese lady proprietor who freely hands out samples from behind her counter. It was love at first bite for June. Just a tiny piece of dark chocolate on a toothpick packs enough flavour to fill the whole mouth with rich, chocolatey goodness; and it melts readily on the tongue, almost instantly turning into its molten state, so creamy and smooth flowing down into the bottomless pit we like to call the stomach.

It's not cheap, obviously, but it was hard to resist. June bought a standard bar of dark for $6.40 and with a little persuasion got me to purchase their signature product which they keep stored under refrigerated conditions at roughly double the price. Because the latter requires refrigeration, for the ride home it comes wrapped together with a slab of dry ice in a heat dissipating cooler bag. They warn that the packaging is only good for 5 hours transit time, so it's best to save chocolate buying for the last stop before going home. Mmm... chocoholics unite! But save a few pennies first, ok?

Immediately after, we did the most appropriate thing to follow up. A quick drop off into our home refrigerator first, then we sped off for the evening screening of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The movie's a visual treat, full of colour and quirky designs. Willie Wonka seems to be the Michael Jackson of the candy industry, that is, his isolation from societal norms rather than his penchant for having kids stay over to jump on his bed.

As Wonka evaluates his 5 guests for the big prize, he lets them eliminate themselves by providing opportunities for them to indulge in their particular "deadly sin." The kids represent gluttony (Goop), pride (Beauregarde), avarice (Salt) and wrath (Teavee), but Charlie is the most well-adjusted of the lot because his family balances him out. Wonka, himself, has a troubled past and Charlie eventually helps him to see that love isn't just a chocolate-induced endorphin rush to the brain.

What we have here is quite a fun movie to watch. It's got Burton's dark-whimsy touch all over it which I like. Still, it's not one of those movies that make me feel I want to get the DVD for my library either. Once is enough, I think.

I'm not sure what to make of Romero's Land of the Dead. It's not exactly horror, though the Dead could have used better table manners. It's not comedy because it wasn't funny. It's not quite action either as the plot moved at the pace of the undead shuffle.

Perhaps I approached this movie with the wrong expectations. I wanted thrills, scares and a sustained atmosphere of suspense, but this wasn't the kind of movie to deliver that kind of thing. It's hard to feel scared of the Dead right from the opening sequence. They walk around in their little suburban town trying to recapture the lives they had lost. A Dead couple holds hands as they take a midnight stagger through the city square, Dead musicians manipulate their instruments though they have lost their skill to play them, and the Dead gas station attendant makes himself busy with his gas pump. And, oh, the wistful look in their eyes as they struggle to recapture old forgotten memories while they "pretend they are still alive..." There's nothing else for them to do anyway.

Then enter the Living on their motor-bikes, trucks and jeeps shooting up the town, randomly gunning down Dead bystanders in order to loot supplies (food, medicines, etc.) that the Dead will never use anyway. Is it any wonder then that the Dead gas station attendant who witnesses this carnage suddenly erupts in rage and snags a rifle from one of the raiders of his fair neighbourhood and eventually learns to use it?

The Dead are supposed to be mindless creatures who exist only to eat living flesh, but this Dead hero develops the ability to communicate with his fellow Dead, grows his Dead army, and learns to improvise a revenge attack on the Living, nestled safely behind the electric fences surrounding their city.

Yes, the Dead learn to use tools (all the better for breaking Living heads open with), they learn to follow a leader (they become a real political entity), they learn to teach new skills to one another, and more importantly, they learn to yearn for a patch of space they can call their own without the indiscriminate incursion of the Living anytime they suka-suka.

In fact, every character in this movie embarks on a quest for a home. The rich make their home in a swanky skyscraper and act like the poor, let alone the Dead, don't exist. The poor, hemmed in by their protective fence, want to upgrade or be free of their claustrophobia once and for all by just heading North.

I guess it's not so much a horror movie as it is a morality play, then. What do you call home? How far will you go to acquire turf? How prepared are you to defend what's yours? Haha! Maybe we could commission a screening of this movie for next years' Total Defence Day activity?

You know you've finally settled into a place when mealtime comes around and, if you find yourself eating alone, you feel like something is missing from your life.

I'm such a different person today from the person I was 7-8 years ago. Back then I could only lunch alone 'cos I couldn't stand anyone crowding out my lunch hour, my sanctuary time away from the buzz of people's gossip, demands and to-do lists. I just had to get out of the office and run as far and as fast as I could away, and hope to goodness that I don't bump into anyone I might vaguely know on the way out. If so, at best there would be a small delay as we exchanged pleseantries, at worst I might end up with a lunch companion, in which case I would try to rush back and hide behind my PC and get back to busy work as soon as lunchbreak was over. There; I've just admitted to having some very deep-rooted anti-social issues, so yeah, I'm nuts. Sue me.

It was a very different feeling when I was walking towards the M2 leaving for a late lunch when I saw Anthony pulling into the parking lot with NBS and Amy in tow having just finished their's. It's the kind of feeling that forces the lower lip outwards to protrude beyond the upper. Not a particularly pleasant sensation. So the pendulum has swung the other way, to the complete opposite extreme, and that only goes to show that I'm still nuts.

Thank God it's only Monday's time table that puts me in isolation from the rest of the staff room. The rest of the week I can be a normal sociable individual and do the lunch thing with people, so it's not so bad.

What all this tells me is that I do have an emotional stake in my workplace now, something the drifter in me of many years ago never had. I have found a roost after all and like it or not, for better or for worse, NY has become a home to me. And, God help me, I don't want to leave.

Today we met Saul, Vince's friend and the closest thing to a guide we could get who knew his way around the area Vince wanted to get his car done up at. Amy, June and I accompanied them just for the heck of it and did some mall pounding while we were there. Vince's car needed some time in the shop so Saul taught June and me to play Uno (we a bit suaku lah, ok?) from the set he had just bought. In the evening, Vince made good his promise to June and with Saul's help brought us to have Bak Kut Teh (June still remembers KL) by the side of a road over a smelly drain. Actually what was promised was the bak kut teh, the drain was a bonus. 'nuff said.

M-I-L couldn't go to the Parade this year, so we grabbed her tix in exchange for a flurry of errands we ran for her this morning. We finally made it here and are now baking in the afternoon sun waiting for things to start happenin'.

It's a sea of red and the crowd is going a little crazy with the toys stuffed into this year's funpacks. Amongst the noisemakers, waving objects and nightlights, I found a fashion rubber band. Blue with the inspiring motto, "Keep Singapore Litter-Free." I'll never take it off my wrist again... :P

Most shots I had to take while there was still daylight. My digi-cam is total crap when it comes to night shots. These airborne blokes are making us dizzy with their spiral patterns as they jump out of a chopper and try to land in the middle of the Padang. Some people will do anything for an NDP ticket.

The F16 squadron executing a perfect "Bomb-burst" maneuvre. Military hardware is best put to use in peacetime as crowd entertainment devices. No one really wants to use them as they were designed. Let's keep it that way.

Standard NDP postcard shot. This is the cue for everyone to rise and sing the National Anthem.

Fireworks is one of the hardest shots to make on a digi-cam. Especially at night. There is so much lag between the time the cam focus locks to the opening of the apature that the big bang's usually over and all you've got is a picture of empty night sky. So here's a shot of a bunch of rockets going up. Don't complain.

Don't also ask about all that other stuff in the middle of the show. I know perfectly well what I came to the Padang to see, and you're looking at it.

Happy 40th, Singapore!

Guess who scored last-minute tix to the Parade? Or rather, guess which couple 2 tix found to take to the Parade? Having a M-I-L who's a member of a grassroots organization has it's advantages!

Aha! Now I know what bugged me most about "Pagoda Street." It's a rich boy's idea of what being down and out in Singapore is like. The lack of research and effort to make the characters more believable and using these caricatures as a vehicle to showcase "Singapore" is particularly irksome.

OK. Maybe I should lighten up about the whole thing. It's entertainment, after all; but how many of us felt the same way when The Amazing Race came to town and the face that represented us on international TV turned out to be "Poo Koo Kang's?"

Meet our brunch, cheeseburger spilling its innards out onto the plate (L), and fish on a king-sized bed of chips (R). Not a bad spread for a dog-friendly place like the les Amis, Botanic Gardens.

Local indegenous wildlife: a large tree spider whose legs are so neatly parted it looks like it only has four rather than the usual eight. The sign is for the tree, not the spider.

And 2 good friends, Mimi (L) and Q-tip (R) take a break after a nice, long walk in the park.

Edit 01:
Later in the afternoon we join hundreds of other dog owners for the Dog Walk at West Coast Park in honour of S'pore's 40th birthday. The crowd in the middle where the flag is surrounds a giant birthday cake that will be distributed to all dogs in the park. Pandan flavoured with bits of cranberry on top. Mimi & Q-tip won't eat their piece though. Pity.

Who else should join the festivities than the Other Presidential Candidate who took the opportunity to meet the people and their dogs. If he's already on the campaign trail, I guess it means there will be an election after all. I haven't see the Incumbent doing anything like this yet. Maybe he's taking things too easy?

Just got back from using our "Pagoda Street" comps which came down to me via the P who had another engagement on tonight.

Apparently, this musical -- set in a row of 3 shophouses in Singapore -- won quite some acclaim when it debuted in London, according to the press releases reprinted in the programme sheets. Guess the Singapore crowd is a little harder to please, particularly when the many stock characters are so familiar to us already having been done to death by other local theatrical professionals.

The Ah Beng and his "teh" (for want of a better word) girlfriend; the Indian barber and his Bollywood wife; the wise old Malay "jaga" and the high-maintenance conniving, scheming b**ch play out and milk their stereotypes to the hilt. There were times when it was possible to predict what a character would say next simply because we've heard similar cliches many times before. The only non-stereotype was the non-Chinese boy playing the role of a Chinese restaurant towkay. That felt a bit strange. In any case, it must have been very entertaining to a London crowd for whom such a cast was a novelty, but we've seen it all before.

The first act had quite a bit of narrative exposition, perhaps more than necessary. It wouldn't have hurt to let the audience figure things out for themselves through watching the characters interact with each other, though spilling all the beans by the opening number might make for more expedient storytelling.

The stage set begins as 3 distinct shop-fronts on a street. But at the opening of the second act, the Chinese restaurant frontage splits apart to reveal 2 tables, presumably representing the interior of the eatery. The problem was, the other 2 shophouse frontages remained as they were and so the audience could never be sure from that point on which location the action was taking place -- were we on the street? In the restaurant? Towkay's office? Somebody's house? We only had context to go on so we just had to ignore away bits of set that seemed incongruous to the scene. Problematic.

For a Law student, the writer-composer-lyricist-director did a reasonably credible job with his unsubtle in-your-face narrative. It's clear that the cast members were having a great time working together for a worthy cause (proceeds go to a local equestrian-based, not kidney-based charity), and, hey, more power to them for that. But still, although it had pretty good production values, 'Pagoda Street' is still essentially a school play.

Must thank JY for initiating a very pleasant evening. But first, about the college weight room: I was eager to try out the equipment today during the "staff exclusive use" time slot only to find the room locked and deserted. Should'a checked first. The entire PE Dept had gone to camp so there was no one left behind to keep the room open. And I had brought my towel along as well. :( Lena promised it'll be open again next week, so I'll be back.

Anyway, having an unexpectedly free evening, I accepted JY's invitation through Amy to join them at Party World KTV. So June and I dropped in after dinner for a little Social time. Nice to see that this KTV joint keeps its stuff up-to-date (i.e., within the last 3 years or so) with songs from the likes of Good Charlotte, Dido and Natalie Imbruglia -- I got fed up with the selection from the male singers so I didn't mind attempting some women's songs instead even if the subject matter made me sound um... strange, "You couldn't be that man I adore..."

Vince joined us later in the session though too late to do any of his own singing. But we did have supper (dinner for Amy and Vince) at the nearby Dome. Split a generously cheezy, mushroomy Black Forest Ham pizza amongst the 4 (JY went home) of us, and discussed our plans for the NDay hols and some exposition of my anti-social tendencies.

Social: High
Fun: High
Hunger: Full
Sleep: Very Low
Hygiene: Low (hot day, and I haven't had a shower yet!)
Bladder: Full (too much earl grey + water + coke)

'scuse me. Have to take care of the last 3 items right now...

Had some fun posing for college annual shots with my CT. The shot featured here I stole from them. It's a little low-rez but good enough to see what we look like.

Each CT will get a 1-page feature in the college annual including a collage of 5 small group shots rather than a single large group photo. The rationale there is so that we won't have to strain tired old eyes as we search for signs of our glorious past in these dusty tomes of forgotten memories sometime in the future when we're old and grey. This shot then is quite precious as it's one of the few in which we're all in it together.

In other news, my patience has finally paid off! After 6 years of anticipating with bated breath, the pronouncement from on-high is that the weight-training room is operational. In fact, I had happened to walk past the room a couple of days ago and noticed that the once empty room is now full of brand new complicated-looking devices of muscular torment, begging to be used. Price of entry: have a towel handy at all times to wipe your own sweat off the benches and other equipment as and when necessary.

Staff get exclusive use of the facility every Friday from 1700-1900. That will be yet another reason for us to stay late on campus. Must go check it out tomorrow. Ooh, the possibilities...!

It's one of those days where I need to be in 3 places at the same time. Everything happens on a Wednesday afternoon and it's a matter of trust for me that those who go in my place will make things happen the way they are supposed to.

First, I should be with the tour group to Tekong, but I couldn't so I sent 'Statesman' instead. Yesterday, I was quite proud of myself for experimenting with non-conscription and getting some reasonable results from it. A whole bus-load of sign-ups to me was an encouraging indication that the new LJ scheme was going well. Yet today, I want to do unspeakable things to the 10-12 kids who stood me up. Instead of a full busload, only just more than half showed up by departure time, the rest having conveniently "changed their minds."

It's one thing to be "voluntary," I didn't put a gun to anyone's head to sign up; but once a name's on the sign up sheet it's a committment to see the event through; it's undertaking of personal responsibility, and yet the kids simply renege on their agreement, taking their dishonour so lightly. Their dishonour? What about MINE? I gave my word that I would send a busload (already far short of my original allocation) but because of their convenience I could in reality send far less than I promised. That makes me a liar, and I'm thoroughly pissed about that.

The self-motivated LJ depends on the honour system in order to work. I'm going to have to instill some honour in the kids because it's clear to me that they damn well need it. Well, there is a procedure for this kind of thing. Let's get the wheels turning...

Place #2: I should be with the Drama kids as they rehearse for next week's N Day celebrations. I should be with them as they sort out who is going to be in the Celebrate Drama event this weekend and what they are going to do for it. I should be with them as they rehearse for their MU debut in the coming weeks. But because I have so many other things on my plate, Fran, club pres., has to take care of these things for me. So because of my absence from Drama Club these last couple of weeks, I'm out of touch with things and I'm insecure and confused, especially since Tina needs the participants' details immediately and I'm like... wth's going on?

Where was I this afternoon? Having my last class at SMU for the New Subject. It was basically a summary of what we had covered over the last 3 weeks in building a toolbox of logic for ourselves and our kids next year. Mark suggested conducting formal debate sessions and how to minimize free-loaders in group-based term-papers and presentations. He asked us how we might go about teaching logic and critical thinking now we've been through this course and for me, I'm going to have to teach myself the stuff first -- practice using the tools myself first before I inflict them upon my students next year. The logic tools are new, weird and unfamiliar to me and I'm going to be pretty ham-fisted with them, so, NBS, watch out!

I also noticed during tea-break that I still am having major problems socializing with the other course participants. I haven't got the urge to talk to anybody, and I suppose I've got the kind of face that nobody wants to talk to anyway. If NBS isn't conversing with me, my feet want to take over and explore the rest of campus until break is over. Or I just get very busy with my snacks or coffee and ignore everybody else. I thought I'd outgrown this behaviour already but I guess not, huh? I wonder if that's a symptom of autism?

I have initiated a new approach to JC Learning Journeys. Instead of tutors selecting tours of local social institutions and infrastructure for their students from an 'approved' list, I've freed up the system so that students select their own tours and activities, inform their tutors of their intentions and it's left to me to make the bookings and other administrative details on their behalf. God help me, what have I done? I'm now wearing yet another hat -- travel agent -- and I thought I was busy enough as it was.

What's invigorating about this development is that the students are getting excited about the possibilities of what they can do and learn and a few inquiries have started trickling in already. It'll be interesting to see how this idea will sustain itself; whether after the initial euphoria the usual apathy and cynicism sinks back into the student body and we will have to resort to conscription again; or if the students really take their independence and responsibility seriously and properly plan an activity the whole civics group will enjoy and find meaningful. We'll see, won't we?

Most likely, mass activities will become harder and harder to organize. Tomorrow's JC1 visit to Tekong, for example. I initially offered it to the first 6 civics groups to sign up, but none bit. So I threw it open to any individual or small group within the JC1 student population to just sign up if interested, no compulsion. Result: about 40 signed up, all of their own volition, and though the number is only a third of the spaces allocated to us, I decided against conscription to make up the remaining numbers or risk losing credibility as the revolutionary who freed up LJs on campus (and gave himself a new job in the process), ahem.

And now the evening news:
We congratulate Amy on the purchase of her fiery red Maxim bowling ball, bright orange polish cloth, deep blue bowling shoes and jet black carrier bag. Now the team is complete, everyone having made a financial commitment to improving our game. She has to get used to the increased weight of her personal ball now -- an 11-pounder, same weight as mine -- it's throwing her off a bit, but by the end of our game and after a couple of adjustments to the thumbhole, she seemed to be getting the hang of the swing and posted a decent pinfall. Amy, welcome to a new level of competition, no, make that competitiveness. Next target... how about NBS?

Momo caught in the act. Naughty girl! 

Q-tip wears a new fashion accessory, just bought at the SKC Dog Show at the Expo today. 

As I look back on the last week, I notice that from my first bad joke of last Sunday the whole week has been dark and negative. The end of the week was an unprecedented culmination of increasingly worse to terrible news until Saturday night when I decided to just crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and just sleep. It was only 2300, far from my usual beddy-byes time but I couldn't take much more. Even the Big Dumb Guy had the fates conspire against him -- I had completed "Half-Blood" by then so that was also last week's news to me.

As we begin a new week, I sincerely hope the cloud has passed and summer is bright and full of promise again, as it should be. As far as I know, there's only 1 major crisis to forsee disaster in but, hey, that's par for the course for me.

Perhaps I began this week on the right foot. Morning service brought in a special guest, Mrs E Choy. She spoke to us about the dark and terrible days she had to endure with the "Secret Police" during WW2. As I understand from her story, they really worked her over with some nasty torments, from beatings to exerting excruciating pressure on her knees to electrical current (in the presence of her beloved spouse who was likewise tortured in front of her) in a vain attempt to extract information which the couple never had in the first place. But what was probably worse for her was her simply being locked in a cell with 15 other prisoners day and night for 193 days not being allowed to move or communicate with anyone. The boredom would have driven anyone completely nuts; I know I can't sit still for long myself.

Ok, that doesn't sound very positive, but the fact is, she survived and is still hale and hearty and sound of mind till today, a ripe old 95 years of age. And what preserved her during those dark days and beyond was her simple, dogged faith in God; even to the extent of freely granting forgiveness to her torturers when they faced the War Crimes Tribunal at the war's end. She blamed the war, not the men themselves for what happened to her. A most positive, possibly most healthy outlook, I suppose, though not everyone can be that strong.

We begin Sunday with a note of hope, so here's looking to a much brighter week ahead. May it be so for everyone!

Grim tidings indeed, as anticipated from the news we received last night. College started the day with one member short. One of our students had passed away and that fact alone is already hard to deal with.

At 16, that just isn't the time to go. What does anyone know about life at 60, let alone 16? It's all potential lost: the sights that will never be seen, the journeys that will never be taken, the love never to be found... and this 'never' is the extreme absolute that we try our hardest to deny whilst we live and write GP essays.

I didn't know her personally, she was just another face in the crowd to me. But people I know knew her and their grief was mine as well. As with Mim, and John, another space in our hearts has hollowed out with the passing of this little girl. And perhaps it's harder because she was a student. I may not have known her, but still, the pain of her loss is nonetheless tangible to me because she was one of us.

Condolences and prayers to her family and friends; those who loved her.

Last chance to vote for our college blogsite. As it is, we're just barely in the running for the Grand Finals numbering 5th in position in the latest rankings. Our blog may be disorganized and may lack a clear focus, but it has content that deserves an eyeball at least. StrangeFae's mad rants lack polish and subtlety but her enthusiasm in letting fly on her topic du jour is quite amusing. Anyway, I think so.

Today's the last day to vote so if you are feeling charitable to our cause and like our schtik, voting procedure is as follows:

Grab your favourite cell phone and follow the instructions here. Thanks for your support!

I must be more competitive than I thought. I'm mad with myself for achieving my competition 3-game average of 140 pinfalls today. To maintain one's personal achievement levels in a competition should be considered a satisfactory performance, but at this level this kind of average simply cannot make it. It's doubly annoying as I've been able to turn in much better scores during practice but when it really counts I go back to "normal" again. And today, I was struggling to maintain too. Bad stuff.

Talked with Amy and we agreed that this week is full of negative energy. Just look at my last few entries, scripted right out of blahdom. Worse things are afoot, but I'm not exactly sure what's happening. Until I get a better handle on things, we're all just going to have to wait in suspense.

Meantime, here are a couple of useful quotes from The Island:
"Just because you want to eat the burger doesn't mean you want to meet the cow," and "Humans will do anything to survive" and the not-so-subtle hint that Microsoft owns the world. Hmm... pretty much sums up the whole movie. Don't get me wrong, I liked the concept, the action and the eye candy (Scarlett Johansson... yummy) but the was just this one thing that I couldn't buy. It's bad for human beings who want to live to kill clones for their spare parts, but it's ok for clones who want to live to kill human beings who are after them, at least the movie biases the audience that way. Shouldn't we look at killing as killing? The double standard seems unfair, but hey, it's just a movie, right?

I'm usually immune to the effects of caffeine but I may have overdone it today. 2 cups of machine-brew for breakfast, 1 hand-poured teh tarik at lunch (the mutton byriani was fabulous at this run-down looking coffee-shop on Hill Street, BTW) and immediately followed by a large brewed Nescafe 'cos NBS and I were early for class and wanted to kill time without wandering aimlessly downtown like lost souls. Result: a small headache while Mark continued lecturing on logic and argument construction.

Later, I discovered caffeine crash: a state of extreme drowsiness once the stay-awake effect has worn off. zzz...

I suppose there will be days when one is too tired, too lethargic to do any more than just curl up in bed and plough through a thick book. Days like this remind us that life isn't a laugh-a-minute and that rest is just as meaningful as activity. Considering what's coming up later this week, a day like this is a day to be grateful for.

Bowled at CSC now that the lanes have reopened again. Don't see much improvement, but anyway... Amy confirmed her 100+ average against all of us, though it must be noted that Anthony was without his regular ball and shoes today. She's throwing good first balls, and it's time to work on her spares. Ha ha. Easier said than done. We're not that great at converting spares, ourselves. Guys, it's time to lower Amy's handicap.

So after yesterday's insanity and today's training I'm physically tired. Various muscles aching all over the place. A spot on my left foot starting to hurt too. Comes and goes but this time it's making it's presence felt a bit more intensely. Tempted to get it x-rayed to see what's going on under the skin. No more training for me till the big game on Thursday. Must give myself time to recover.

Meantime, there's a half-blood prince awaiting my attention. Let's see how far I get this evening.

"He floats through the air with the greatest of ease
This mad inline skater; fear puts his mind in deep freeze.
Taking off feet first, he lands with a thud
Bruised, battered and bloody, his face in the mud"
Xmac (1965-? well, not for much longer if this keeps up)

If ever I thought I knew anything about inline skating, today proved to be a most humbling experience. Fine, I can roll forwards, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. I can stop on a dime with a spin and a flourish. But only on flat straight pathways like those on ECP.

Sembawang Park proved to be an unforgiving tutor with its seemingly gently rolling slopes and generally clear pathways. Then you have this mad geezer on ankle wheels thinking, "hey, no prob, I've done this before."

People know. They know it the instant they see someone on wobbly wheels. They clear the path. They grab their children, tricycles, strollers and their maids and head for high ground. Then at a safe distance, their eyes fix on the fireball careening down and through the location they had just vacated seconds ago. Seconds later, said fireball makes its inevitable impact with Planet Earth, lying there in a crumpled heap while the crater created on collision smokes silently around him.

He laughs as he picks himself up again, though internally he'd rather say, "F@*K!!!" There are children present after all.

He gets up, appraises the new damage to his person and rolls on, hoping to learn what to do the next time, but he never learns.

This event repeats itself several times in the space of maybe 20 minutes. Then finally, after muscles start cramping, lacerations start to sting and a sudden rainstorm washes the blood off the footpaths, he decides it's probably best to go home, defeated.

First off, I'm supremely grateful for the armoured protection I wore, especially my combination gloves-wrist guard. I could have had shattered my forearm on my first fall if the plastic guard hadn't been there to take the shock. I wasn't wearing elbow guards so my elbows are nicely scraped now. Hao lian, lah.

But my last fall to Earth must have been my most spectacular. I flew down a slope knowing I had to brake but muscles refused to respond to mental commands. At the bottom of the path before it slightly slopes up again was a stone bench, and I suddenly imagined the consequences of crashing into it at the speed I was going. The fear made me totally lose control and my legs went completely out from under me sending me into a double-drop kick without a target to break my fall -- except for the stone park bench. In mid-air I mentally prepared myself for impact and somehow or other landed on my butt on the footpath in front of the bench, missing it. I was afraid that I could still spin toward it but I had come to a complete stop (my guardian angel works overtime for me *silent thanks).

Maybe I should just stick to the safe but crowded pathways of ECP. Or take inline lessons. Hmmm...

Another late entry. Drama Club did its thing at the Library @ Esplanade Open Mic show along with items presented by another set of performing groups. I guess I've been influenced too much by Tina, but I really couldn't stomach what the other groups were doing. The first group presented a literary thesis on Lee's 'Mockingbird' -- someone's interpretation of the text rather than the text itself. It was didactic, pedantic even, it was plodding, anal and literal, and it was performed by a bunch of 10 year-olds whose parents must really have been proud. I suppose I should be more generous and appreciative of the effort, but I guess it just wasn't my thing.

The other group, thankfully, focused more on the text of 'Dog in the Night-Time' but it still subscribed to the notion that emoting=shouting. Drove me up the wall, particularly since the performance space is so intimate, the audience capacity so small and the amplification so loud. Decided to leave before the end to preserve my auditory senses for another few years.

Our piece was merciful to the audience in that it was just a short reading -- 10 minutes rather than the 30 we were allocated. Some texts are just not written to be read aloud, as Mel quickly discovered during rehearsals. In 'Tangerine' the atmosphere and location are way more interesting than the story of Nick and his standing around and just looking at things. So I decided to make it a movement piece in which the camera lens focused on the background and left the foreground action (of which there was actually very little anyway) blurry. Our kids could have been sharper and more decisive with their movement details, but they delivered and the audience sometimes got our gags, which is gratifying.

Maybe that's the problem with the other groups, they took things and themselves too seriously. But then they could always say that we didn't take things seriously enough too. Which is the more preferable? Me, I go for enjoyment. We could have used a few more rehearsals to polish, but I think what we have is a script that's worth preserving and recreating for another audience at another time. Open Rehearsal Performance in Sept? Must ask Tina.

Amy and Yee, thanks for dropping by to give us your support! Your timing was absolutely spot-on!

Finally got to catch the Fantastic Four last night. So backdated I am with the movie scene.

I worried about how the presentation would turn out. I have been a long-time fan of the foursome and I felt there was no way any movie could capture the grand-scale adventures that the first family of superheroes always found themselves in.

Much credit to the director who knew the limits of his medium and focused his movie on the strongest feature of the four: family and friendship. Sure, the look was cheesy (self-referred to as "Armani meets astronaut," by the Torch himself) and the CGI no great shakes -- obviously cartoony and without any pretentions towards making them 'realistic' -- but it's the simplest, most ordinary of human relationships that hit us the hardest.

The frustration of the Invisible Girl, who can't make the man she loves see her the way she sees him. The frustration of the Torch with his enormous ego caged in by his own unadmitted sense of responsibility to his loved ones. The frustration of Mr Fantastic whose mind is a tyrannical ruler over his heart as far as the woman he loves is concerned, along with the guilt over the fate of his best friend. And the pathos of the perennially unfortunate member of the group, the Thing, whom Mike Chicklis plays with such sadness in his eyes that his sense of rejection and outcastness is almost palpable as he reaches down for his wife's cast off wedding ring and can't pick it up because his fingers have turned into bricks.

Doom, however, plays an odd role in this script. There was really no call to empower him with special 'powers.' In the comic books, he is already disturbing enough as a seriously twisted human being whose brilliance of mind makes him more than a match for the four combined. Luck is seldom on his side, though. Guess there wouldn't have been enough movie time to explore Doom's history properly so it just got conveniently subsumed under the same plotline as his nemeses'. That was disappointing.

One thing I had to question is the crowd's reaction to the chaos on the Brooklyn Bridge. There was so much damage, so many lives put at risk, not by any supervillain attack but just a chain of events caused inadvertently by the Thing. Yet when the danger passed, everyone cheered the four and they became celebrities. If it was the X-men, the story would have been different. Perhaps it's this fundamental plot thread following the four that it's impossible to make a dark Fantastic Four movie to compare with our favourite leather-clad mutants. Fortune favours the four.

The movie isn't just about a bunch of superheroes but about the coming together of a family, dysfunctional as they may be, who fight amongst themselves as often as they fight their enemies. In comicdom, the oft spoken tagline of the Fantastic Four reads, "They were the first, and they were the best." I wouldn't say that of this movie, but an open mind did bring both giggles and tears. It was a fun ride.

Flitting from flower to flower in its endless search for precious nectar, a little butterfly landed on my shoulder. It gently fanned my face with its wings while it rested there, and I appreciated its trust. I made no sudden move so it would not take fright and fly away too soon. But after a time, it did fly off. It had other flowers to visit, other places to beautify.

A moment to be treasured.

Boss Lady dropped in on me in class today to observe me at work. A bit nervous, but I muddled my way though thanks to the cooperation of the kids.

Yay! Finally collected the Potter book from the Post Office during a break between appointments in the afternoon. It won't be to my benefit, though. I'm still too busy to read it and I will still have to wait until June is ready to relinquish it back into my possession now that she has claimed first dibs.

Meantime, only Amy, June and I bowled tonight. Amy confirmed her improved standings with a 5-game average of 111, while I'm still at an unimpressive 145. June needs to practice throwing the ball more.

Oh... and despite numerous reminders, I have neglected my homework for tomorrow's SMU course. NBS will put me on her hit list since all the reminders came from her. Maybe I can squeeze in some time before classes tomorrow?

Another cycle has passed and a new one begins. Farewell to the Drama Club of '05, and welcome to the Drama Club of '06. Today the new exco got elected, into whose hands the reins of leadership has passed on. Congrats to Fran, Nyt and Des, the new face the Club will wear in the coming year.

The new Club is different from the batches that came before it. The members comprise people who are really interested in theatre, who want to experience the life of performance without the added lure of CCA points scoring -- a system that is now dead and long may it stay that way. The Club membership is small, but everyone is a hardworking, committed unit for whom the performance is more important than ego. This is not to run down the alumni who have delivered fabulously for us in previous years, but rather to voice my hopes that boundaries can be pushed further back in the coming year thanks to a group that has shown its ability right from the start that it can balance improv, fun and serious work for the sake of a good production.

Wish I could be as pleased with bowling training tonight. Personal average down to a level I haven't seen for a while. Still managed to beat Vince overall, but it wasn't the trashing I promised him yesterday. My 3rd game was so dire I lost to Amy who has improved her game considerably. Instead of a random game breaking the 100 mark, she posted a consistent above 100 average tonight over 5 games. If we had given her her usual 50-pin handicap, she would have been the one doing the trashing, leaving our fragile male egos shattered, scattered and trampled into the dust on the ground. Not a good night.

Game must pick up in tomorrow's practice. Tournament is next week, so better buck up!

Irritated. Frustrated. It's an emotional state that cannot adequately be expressed in words. It's something like having your own copy of the latest Potter book but it's locked up at the Post Office 'cos you're not free to collect it; or having a spanking new pair of inlines waiting for you to try them out on the weekend, but it's only Tuesday.

Things tantalizing within reach, but just out of touch.

The last weekend and a couple of other incidents before, I remembered the joy of movement powered by a once healthy body. The sweat, the huffy breath, the adrenaline. Now with muscles atrophying and joints stiffening it's a struggle to do all that stuff with the ease, confidence and form that 10 or so years ago I might have taken for granted.

I can still pretend that my 4th decade isn't rapidly charging towards me like a steer with a poker stuffed up its butt; that my life hadn't really began 10-15 years later than other normal people's, but the body doesn't lie. And sadly it doesn't forget either.

And it doesn't help either when your contemporaries from secondary school (class of '81) have finally tracked you down and started talk about a possible 25th anniversary reunion.

Can I stay in denial, just for another month? Please?

A really wet afternoon, but at least I can say that I have had a clean car for almost 24 hours before it rained. This event is a near world record and is worth noting on this page. The wet weather had me scrambling, umbrella in hand, to join Anthony and Vince at Acacia for lunch. I had to negotiate the numerous ankle-deep puddles in Bishan Park, trying as best as I could to keep my trainers dry. I hate wet shoes.

It's sad that few people eat at Acacia. This afternoon we occupied one table and had the full attention of the lone wait staff to ourselves. Just because the food tends to be too salty doesn't mean there's a need to have a general boycott of the place. You have a mouth, so just ask for less salt. I'm sure the chef will oblige.

Had to rush lunch as I was on duty at YJ, and I arrived just shy of my appointed briefing time. Anyway, I got caught up pretty quickly to what was going on, so that was ok. Listening Comprehension Exam. In Chinese. The exam text gets broadcast over the radio on the station playing Classical music, Symphony 92.4FM.

I guess there's a reason to use a serious radio channel for a serious exam, but the kids are seated at their venue just after lunch, half-an-hour before the paper commences, they're confined to their seats and maintain communication silence throughout. To hit their MTV-tuned minds with such "soothing music [qtd. from invigilators' instruction sheet]" and watch them slowly nod off to lala-land one-by-one seems like an inhumane thing to do. After all, shouldn't kids have the right to take their exam with a fresh, alert mind instead?

Maybe we should hit them with a dose of Good Charlotte or Green Day or Simple Plan instead so they'll stay awake and bopping for that interminably long lag period, and maybe it'll focus their minds on issues of social responsibility too while we're at it. Too bad it's not me making policy around here.

Lost my chance to collect my copy of the new Potter book again. I had it delivered to my Post Office instead of my home and for 2 days running I've been arriving a half-hour after closing time. That's kind'a frustrating. Mei says it's not worth my $40, but I've already paid for it so I'll have to enjoy it now like it or not. But first, let me get my hands on my copy!

Our Neverland Foursome met again tonight to watch War of the Worlds, which we had intended to watch since KL but never got around to doing so. It was a mad rush to catch the 7pm at Toa Payoh, at least for Vince and Amy. Let's not time it like that again, seems to be the consensus after today.

By our current set of expectations from a big-budget sci-fi blockbuster, the plotline from this Victorian age proto-sci-fi tale is ludicrously disappointing, and Spielberg's cutsey alien designs don't help much either in raising tension. But then again, as in similar stories, it's not the aliens we're meant to fear, but rather people in a crisis who simply lose their heads and become nasty, irrational, selfish and desperate, whatever they may have been before the crisis hits.

Other observations from WotW:
The New Yorkers standing around gawking as the first tripod rises from the ground parallels the behaviour of the beachgoers before the Tsunami hit.
The aliens are damn inefficient as exterminators -- those 2 beam weapons each tripod is equipped with will take forever to kill people off one at a time.
After an EMP attack, stalled cars get conveniently pushed to the side of the road clearing the way for other working vehicles.
In case you're wondering why Grandma's house (heck, her neighbourhood!) isn't affected by the goings-on in the world, it's because we need to look at the mythological resonances of 'Gramdma's house' rather then the literal. Grandma's house is the ultimate safe-haven. It promises reunion, conflict resolution, home and acceptance, the end of the journey, and so it is for our protagonist and his own. Else, how will we know when the movies over and we can go home... right?

Dropped in on Mike and Angela for breakfast and discovered that I am now an independently published 'auteur,' ahem, ahem. Mike Googled his kiosk and found my review from a couple of weeks back and he printed it out for his pin-up board. Thanks for the mutual publicity! *waves at Mike and Angela

Later in the afternoon, I acted on a classified ad I found in yesterday's papers -- inline skates (Nike, Rollerblade) 50-70% sale. The establishment was a 'blading school and it was packed so full of customers the staff was simply overwhelmed, swamped and frazzled. Customers helped themselves as best they could and kept replacing the sample models in the wrong display locations so that after a while it was impossible to tell which price was meant for which model. Chaos rulez!

Apparently, the mega discount applied to members of the school while the rest of us had to settle for a lesser discount. Fine. I'm in the market for a pair, anyway. I decided on the Rollerblade Aero 7 ALU

and though June thought it was below $150 (must have been put together with the wrong price tag) it actually cost slightly over $200, probably due to the aluminum frame as opposed to the cheaper plastic type. We also purchased 2 sets of protective gear to replace the old, tatty ones we once had.

And now, it's time to re-prioritize physical fitness back into my life!

"He floats through the air with the greatest of ease
The daring young man on the flying trapeze"
George Leybourne (1882-1884)

Another day of insane derring-do. Hong Choo's next on the hitch list so we took him to Sentosa for trapeze lessons before his big day.

It's like a Club Med set-up with suspended safety nets, but only one flying bar so solo "performances" only. There is a practice bar on which we all have to try out the tucking in of our legs into a rotation around the shoulders and finishing with a full body suspension hanging from the knees, hands free. After successfully mastering this maneuver (within tolerable parameters) we're ready for the real thing.

We climb to a narrow platform about 2 storeys high, safety belt securely around the waist. On the belt are 2 D-rings which the 2 ends of the safety rope clip onto. On the platform, the instructor talks us through the take-off procedure. He secures us by grabbing the back of the safety belt while we reach for the flying bar first with one hand then the other.

Teetering on the edge of the platform, we "step-off" while the instructor simultaneously lets go of the safety belt and we're feeling the rush of air against our faces in a moment of exhilarating freedom. Before we lose momentum, we have to think through the hang-by-the-knees maneuver and actually force our limbs to move accordingly, though poor timing, adrenaline, muscle fatigue and acrophobia make it even harder to execute than when we were still on the ground.

We learned 3 different kinds of dismounts so we went up 3 times each to try out each one. The first was a standard butt-first land-in-a-sitting-position, though most people still end up landing face-first instead. The second is a back-flip dismount: on the swing, feet together, kick forward once, kick backwards, tuck knees into chest and release bar. In theory, momentum spins the body 360° legs over head then we land again in a sitting position. In theory, anyway. Last, the flying dismount in which we remain suspended from the knees and at the apex of the "away" swing, release the knees and adopt a Superman flying position, belly landing.

Most of us -- especially the tourist kids who had joined our group -- managed to perform reasonably well. One nervous teenager landed head-first onto the safety net and bounced into an awkward somersault, which looked quite hilarious though it was probably embarrassing for her.

Group performance review: Martin: self-declared non-participant. Anthony: injured in training, sidelined. Hong Choo: set good example. Weng: credible. Luanne: lost momentum early. Ed: letting go issues. Me: form over substance.

The guys went up North for a seafood dinner. I took family (June & 2 dogs) home and gave Ed a lift back on the way. Muscles starting to hurt. Hmm... wonder who's next on the list to get married?

It's late, but now I can't get this thought out of my head. With regard to the furore over the case of Durai poTTer and the Fund of Kidneys -- and though I rarely do this -- I offer a little biblical insight that sort of settles it for me:

"Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn." Deuteronomy 25:4

Whatever follows from now, I hope it won't contravene this fundamental principle of employer-employee relations.

Nevertheless, easy for me to say, since I haven't contributed anything to the fund recently.

It's fun enlightening kids and seeing them respond with genuine comprehension. For some inexplicable reason, every project group seems bent on conducting a survey as part of their data collection process. Invariably, their survey mainly seeks info regarding the public approval of their project. It's like they want to prove to their supervisor that despite the advice given so far, as long as the public approves of their project, all will be well with the world.

What is the objective of the project? To create/devise/design/... whatever thing. Any idea as of now how to go about delivering what was promised? Umm... no... OK, how long will the survey process take from designing the questionnaire to collecting data to data analysis? 2 weeks? And so the survey results will most likely tell you what? Er... that people will like our project? And after 2 solid weeks of backbreaking work, will this information take you a few steps closer to learning how to make your project work? Er... no, just that people will like it or not... ooooohhh!

Oh well, a whole afternoon of that so it was most excellent when Anthony suggested we go chill at Settler's again. But parking there is mad. I drove around the block quite a few times, got my bearings screwed and got lost a couple of times. Eventually I gave up and parked at the lot I just happened to be passing on New Market Street. Walked the rest of the way to Settler's. Good thing it wasn't a long walk.

I had already had dinner so I contented myself with a small plate of "black pepper" fries and a RB float. Our group entertained ourselves with 'Apples to Apples,' a mix-n-match word game of random associations and hasty explanations.

A kick-back, laze around Friday evening. The weekend's finally here!

Good news! The Drama Club's performance isn't this Saturday after all, but next, 23 July. Which means I can have a life this weekend and still have a little more time to polish the production into something credible. As it is, judging by what the kids were coming up with at this afternoon's rehearsal, this movement piece is becoming increasingly watchable and there are moments when the ensemble actually offers some rib-tickling scenes.

With more polish and timing I think our presentation of "Tangerine" will be quite unusual and unexpected. Hope the audience gets it though. I am asking them to make a stretch of tolerance to sit through the whole thing. Must thank Mel for kindly doing the reading so I can concentrate on directing. I promised her an expensive dinner at "somewhere nice" for her sacrifice. Wonder if she'll hold me to my word?

Good to see that Amy's big project turned out quite nicely today. She'll score some major points for sure. She was in charge of the new council's investiture and it flowed quite smoothly, like clockwork. What helped was that there was no attempt to make the event appear more than it was. There have been previous similar ceremonies that became rather emotional affairs for the participants. They teared, some quietly sobbed behind their dignity, some had stiff jaws but trembling lips because it's hard for the exiting council to say goodbye amidst the recollection of memories both happy and painful.

This ceremony though just as dignified kept the tone light and perfunctory -- just a matter of remove badge, sit down for the outgoing councilors. The mandatory speeches were thankfully short utterances of politeness and quickly followed up by the next item on the agenda. The new council was sworn in and invested with the duties, responsibilities, rights and priviledges of councilors which they will fulfill to the best of their ability and partake of to the fullest of their capacity respectively. Plain and simple. Lovely.

If there was anything that bugged me, it was the sense that the ceremony might have been just a little over-rehearsed. Even the tribute song from the incumbents to the umm... out-go-bents was mechanical, lacking the spontaneity that it might have had. That's Amy's mania, I suppose. It's a good thing she hangs out with us, who every so often remind her not to take herself too seriously, to take it easy and not get too obsessive over protocol, or else she might become another [ex-colleague with control issues] and that, I think, would be tragic. Don't worry, Amy, we're not gonna let that happen to you. No way.

Embarked on another round of training for The New Subject. For this term, every Wednesday afternoon I will be on campus at the new SMU learning about critical thinking and logic in the hope that I will be able to acquire and use these skills for myself and then pass them on to my eager, young, bright-eyed apprentices come next year.

I'm really excited to be pioneering this new direction in education; to train students in thinking for themselves, to regain their natural curiosity for the world around them and to be able to relate their input and stimuli to a moral core and make well-reasoned judgments and take action accordingly. Proactive, independent, self-motivated students who care about what goes on around them and are willing and able to do something about it. All this from a 1-and-a-half year course + another half year of independent research. Well, that's what we hope we'll get, anyway.

Meantime, I'm learning all this new stuff about the different ways we can encounter, express and evaluate Truth (Veritas) and it's quite confusing and technical right now. Our instructor, Mark, assures us that we'll get better with practice so NBS and I will have to have frequent arguments with each other just to sharpen the tools that we use to extract truth. Ooo... verbal lightsabre duels, though as Mark reiterated several times, the 'argument' in this context is not for the purpose of 'winning' but for establishing the Truth.

Oops, tangential thought. From marking over 70 GP essays over the last week or so, we lament that the students tend to balance their arguments badly. They present schizophrenic cases allowing contradictory positions without dealing with the truth of the matter. This is akin to merely reporting on a quarrel between 2 parties with differing viewpoints and just leaving it as such without resolution. He said, She said... so what? A 'balanced' argument isn't just a matter of parroting 2 (or more) sides of a story. Any idiot can do this, no need to take the 'A' levels for this skill.

What do we do about a GP essay, then? We determine how the statement of inquiry (i.e., the essay question) contains only a partial truth and we apply to the statement the various parameters, conditions, circumstances, etc., that will make the statement true. We then use sound reasoning to prove the verity of the modified statement. No wonder GP is so tough, so hard to "score" in. We only teach them to 'balance,' and not how to deal with conflicting thoughts and patiently tease out the Truth for a better understanding and appreciation of life itself.

Thus enlightened, I went bowling with the guys again. Personal high game: 190. Personal average:>150 over 6 games. Quite ok, lah.

One last parting shot: Kids, take a lesson from June who's resting up her sprained back now. When you have to bend to pick up a heavy object, for goodness sake, bend your knees as you establish your grip, then straighten your legs to carry it up. DO NOT lift with your back or there will be... consequences.

Great. Spent another evening passed out on the living room floor drifting between Theta and Delta state. I must have been more tired than I realized. Now I'm awake (barely) I've just got enough sense to get myself showered and into bed properly. G'night!

Arrived at Plaza Starbowl late for training. Monday's bad for me because of my 3 lecture slots packed within a 4-hour window in the afternoon, so it's a no-lunch day. Today was a bit worse 'cos the Drama Club needed to rehearse for Saturday's performance so even after the last lecture I was still engaged.

Before commencing bowling training, we had a much needed dinner at the new-looking food court bearing the name, "Sultan's Kitchen." I had the chicken cutlet from the western food stall. Nice, large, breaded chunk of chicken fillet that I tore into with great enthusiasm. Halfway through however, I realised that the cutlet was a bit underdone and decided to stop eating it in case I get food-poisoning from eating partially-cooked chicken meat. Hope what I did eat was still fit for human consumption. Guess we'll find out tomorrow. Meantime, there's bowling to be done.

The bowling alley was full with all lanes booked for some corporate league night. We had to wait a bit for a couple of lanes to clear but in the meantime we tried to pursuade Amy to part with her hard-earned cash and buy a ball and shoes for herself for $160 and be a full-fledged member of our we-own-our-own-ball-and-shoes club. Amy stood her ground, though, and since she wouldn't let us help her with shopping we killed time shooting pool instead. Yee and me vs Vince and Anthony. My pool is still erratic, though I can occasionally pot a ball or two if the angles line up right. More practice needed, def.

After winning a game apiece, we finally got to bowl. Team performance for a 3-game series: Average. Good thing the competition date is at the end of this month. More time to train!

Bah... slow news day.

Bathroom's Spartan in it's simplicity. Same as it was before.


Yay! Bedroom's habitable again! Wonder how long it'll stay this neat?

I signed up for a Friendster account last night, after 17 million people had already signed up for one. I did that because I found someone's blog and I wanted to add a comment. Dumb thing won't let me comment unless I was a member. Great sales gimmick; good thing membership is free.

It's really sad as a new member. As I set up my account, the counter reminds me how pathetic my life is. It reads, "You have (0) friends." So I edit my profile, recalling bits of my life, interests and hobbies hoping to attract the attention of other people who might share my wavelength. Maybe that counter would rise a little higher if so.

I also search around a bit to find names of people I know. Not many names appear, at least for my age group (ancient) so it's either my contemporaries are far and few between or they're just not net savvy enough. Nonetheless, I do find a few names, and coincidentally, they're the people I hang out with on campus and off anyway. So I "invite" them to be my Friendster friends and await a favourable reply.

Thing is, as I search through millions of names and faces wondering who and where my friends are, I flash back to an unrelated piece of info someone divulged a couple of days ago. There is another bunch of staff leaving either for greener pastures or the service altogether. It's an annual cycle and of course the industry is a bit concerned about its annual turnover rate. I might have been a statistic, myself. My intention was to fulfill my 3-year contract and leave to rejoin MU (not Manchester United) full-time. Nearly 6 years later, I'm still keeping my tab running.

Part of the reason is that I need the money, but if that was the only reason I'd be the saddest sod on the planet. The workload and responsibilities keep piling up year after year, and the restrictions get tighter and tighter. It's not the kids who keep me around, though they have their charm and their ability to keep the place interesting and challenging.

What's really keeping me around are my fellows in the staff room. The people we can discuss work with but, more often than not, anything other than work. Having meals is riotous with insults thrown around, insinuations made, aspersions cast, characters defamed and having generally unwholesome talk around the table. We compete hard with each other in our games, we celebrate our happy events and we chill out after hours. We even get in trouble together, occasionally receiving the same 'gentle' reminders in our email inboxes.

In a workplace that's crazy but pretends to be sane, it's great to be able to gather a few people together with whom we can be sane but pretend to be crazy. Thanks, guys!

*wipes tear

Inspired by our Great Toilet Renovation, we embark on our own DIY Paint Job Project


Wake up to bright sunshine everyday -- paint your bedroom wall orange!

June and I amazed ourselves, finishing our bedroom project (no, not THAT bedroom project) within a day. Our new white-and-orange colour scheme is warmer and more cheery than our previous white-and-white combo.

Despite my initial deep misgivings, none of the disaster scenarios I forsaw came to pass. The paint cans didn't get knocked over, spilling paint all over the marble flooring; the brushes and rollers didn't drip unexpectedly; the wardrobe and air-con unit didn't get streaks of unusual colours due to careless brush-strokes; and the wall didn't become patchy with an uneven application of paint. I should'a had more faith in June. After all, she paints animals on rocks as a hobby. Quite nicely, too.

Not only is our bedroom looking new, the toilet project is finally over too! While waiting for the first coat to dry, we cleaned up the new toilet -- eliminating cement splatter, dirt and grime both recent and from several years ago. Stubborn cement splattered on the wall tiles had to be scraped off individually with my screwdriver, but they came out easily enough. We'll be able to move back into our bedroom and adjoining toilet tomorrow after the silicone holding up the glass partition dries. Meantime, hope our downstairs neighbour is happy now that the leak's been dealt with.

Too tired now, but we need to celebrate our achievement tomorrow, somehow. Wonder if June has any place special in mind?

Spent a chunk of my life trying to fill up a feedback form in response to a survey carried out by the Big Kahunas themselves. The Great Ones had wanted to know what the general public thought of all of us in the industry, so they took a survey, tabulated the results and generally got a favourable outcome. It seems that an overwhelming majority of the public likes us a lot.

Given this result, the Big Kahunas wanted us to think about how come people like us so much. I would have thought that good news was good news, so let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, but no. "Analysis" doesn't begin with "anal" for nothing. So on a Friday afternoon, after 4 nearly straight hours of classes, I engaged brain and sat and thought about it. I did.

People like us so much because 1) the Big Kahunas themselves have nice, friendly faces and like to talk and discuss their ideas with the general public, making the latter feel like they have some input into the decision-making process. 2) Most parents like us because their kids' grades are satisfactorily high year after year, so there's no reason to complain against us. 3) The media has also been good to us, trying to put a positive spin on things as far as possible.

The Big Kahunas are concerned because of the multitudes that like us, there is a dip in approval ratings for our ability to impart morality to the kids. They want to know what we might do about that. I thought perhaps we should send more reminders to parents to look after their own kids more responsibly. Our organization is an institution of intellectual-academic development, which is our "core competency," and not so much moral upbringing. No one else is better positioned to look after morality than parents themselves, and religious institutions whose business it is to tell people how to behave themselves, or else... H. E. Double hockey-sticks.

The Big Kahunas also wanted to know what we could do to get parents more involved in our business. I think parents should just look after the home front viz. the above and that's good enough, thank you.

There were a couple of better questions to answer also, so I won't bother relpying to them here 'cos I already did in the feedback questionnaire. It's these other little questions that no-one likes to hear my answers to (because they're not implementable in a 12-step, 5-year corporate action plan) that I respond to in my little private space on the web. See? Even I'm guilty of not always speaking my mind when King Kamehameha comes a-callin'.

Normal lessons resume today, coinciding with the increased heartrate I woke up with this morning. Anticipation, excitement, and a touch of fear as well. Public speaking is one of humankind's greatest fears after all, no matter the size and disposition of the audience.

Afternoon lessons spent in a steam oven of a classroom. Everyone visibly wilting as the day wore on. And again, little relief from the heat at home either due to the no-aircon rule. Feeling faint now...

For someone who can only focus on one thing at a time, I'm looking at this year at it's halfway point and thinking I've overloaded my capacity to handle all my expectations. My year so far is littered with a pile of things I've started but I'm having difficulty seeing how to gather up all the loose ends and draw them to a satisfying conclusion. Some things I haven't even started yet, even though I might have intended to from as early as the beginning of the year. 'Yes,' is a dangerous word that one should use sparingly for best results.

Let's not get into comparing whose to-do list is longer. That's not the point. It's sufficiently frustrating when even a few things are demanding such attention that you don't know which to give your attention to first and as a result you shut down and not do anything at all. It's the paralysis of a deer caught in headlights: watching impending disaster approach takes priority over firing the right synapses to empower the right muscles that work together to jolt one out of harm's way.

Where is all this negative energy coming from? Maybe I'm just having a bad day, I'm tense and not trusting of the society around me. Maybe it's the 9 demerit points for lousy driving I got slapped with for being in the wrong place at the wrong time; while other reckless, aggressive drivers appear to go unpunished (I've sent an appeal letter, BTW, as advised by the Traffic Police FAQ website -- see how, lor). Maybe it's how some ideas I have that look good in theory turn out a far cry from what I wanted in practice. Guess it's an accumulation of things that need venting every now and then.

If I could begin this year all over again, I wonder which non-consequentials on my current list I should've said, "no," to and thus have been a happier boy today?

Meantime, my toilet's all torn up and stripped bare. I've got bags of cement stacked outside my front door and bathroom tiles piled within. A new bowl is waiting to be installed once the waterproofing layer gets laid tomorrow. And no air-con for 3 days until the renovation is complete. I'm hot, sticky and smelly, and will probably remain so for the duration. Could this be another source of my ill-temper? Bah!

Took Q-tip back into Upper Seletar Reservoir and finished my marking there. Way before schedule. Due to some good planning by the Department, we were able to work out a more efficient marking system this mid-year, and hopefully we can keep it going for the rest of the year.

The reservoir seems a bit paranoid about people making lurrve in the quiet spaces on the grounds. Below is a typical reservoir signboard and the interpretation of each injunction from Right to Left, Top to Bottom:


No hookers, No buggery, No short-term layovers,
No oral, No hand-jobs, No wiping,
Handle stiff objects with care, Baby don't light my fire, No riding,
No doggie, No deflowering, No loud sound effects.

If you must, then please get a hotel room. Thank you.