dNYel's Big Day

dNYel's big day has finally come to an end. All the running around the past few weeks and the last spurt of frenzied activity over the past few days have come to quite a satisfactory conclusion, and I can finally look at this weekend with only "dinner" pencilled onto the calendar.

We themed Get Ed! day to focus on the mass media industry. We roped in speakers and guests from the press (broadcast and print), media academics (local and foreign), a local activist blogger, a psych, the Authorities, and a couple of other media interest groups to discuss industry issues in "breakout sessions" with the whole college. A local talk radio station set up a forum in LT3 to chat about "advertising", broadcast 'live' on air; while on our part I was thoroughly impressed with Madam A who ran with my idea for her to host a talk show (I once had a convincing vision of her as a talk show host and I spoke aloud about it) and she went whole hog, interviewing the queen of TV talk shows, Diana S, herself, on the "Terror Blanks Show" which she hosted in LT2.

Me, I got my own shot as Jeopardy! host, sans Sean Connery and his shenanigans, fortunately.

Why am I writing so much detail? 'cos I've been tasked to do a write-up of the event's more innovative aspects for Kevin's committee, and I need to remind myself who to interview for their side of the story.

In what was to become a very long day, we had reps from the three Universities' admissions boards to discuss entry requirements with the kids and their parents in the evening. We are very gratified that the Unis themselves have spoken on the issue that good grades are definitely not enough to guarantee entry. Rather, applicants need qualifying grades but must "stand out from the crowd" through their personalities, their activities outside of the curriculum, and their general and current affairs knowledge in one or more interviews with the Unis they are applying to.

This is good to hear because this is exactly what our GP programme aims to train the kids in. We feel much more validated now. 

Setting up for Jeopardy!

Ladies and gentlemen, this is... Jeopardy! And tomorrow is your's truly's big debut as a game show host for the JC1s. I consider yesterday's run with the JC2s as just a rehearsal.

This afternoon, we set up LT1 with CL's electric buzzer and scoreboard system, so the place really looks like a skeletal version of a TV studio set. Well, perhaps like one in some developing nation with an ambition to explore high technology in its near future, anyway.

Coincidentally, I found the above video clip about how TV's Jeopardy! has changed over the years. LT1 today is a hybrid of ancient marker-pen and current networked technologies. It's a little Frankenstein monster I can proudly call my own -- at least until the real Jeopardy! lawyers come a-callin'. Bwa ha ha!

Sums up the week

I began an email I sent today as follows:

"One thing I love about my job is the constant practice in juggling conflicting requirements and coming up with desperate, if not creative solutions to keep the show running. And I always thought I was never any good at improv."

That kinda' sums up the week I'm having. And it's only Tuesday.

The robots are coming!

This is typical cat behaviour. 1st, check to see if the newcomer is at all a) edible, or b) bully-able.

Maui gets a new playmate, and the playmate collects a new toy.

After some getting used to each other, Maui and the Roomba are new best friends.

May picked up a Roomba for us on her travels. With all the fur, fluff and whatnot sloughing off our pets, and forming a daily layer of sediment on the floorboards, we simply cannot spare the time to keep our place neatly vacuumed all the time.

Solution: let a robot from iRobot do it for us while we're out at work so that the house is pristine by the time we come home. Enter the Roomba 560, electronic self-directed dustbuster extraordinaire! Battery-operated, it circles our floor and sucks up all the pets' sheddings. When it gets low on power it automatically docks itself with its charging bay for a nom, and then it's ready to go again, if that's what we want.

May gave it an initial charging while in the US, and on that single charge it performed quite a satisfactory job in our living and dining rooms. But to charge it again, Tong will be helping us to find an adaptor that can tansform our current (240V) to a voltage its American tastes are more accustomed to (110V). Until then, its initial charge expended, it's temporarily dormant while it awaits its next meal.

The Roomba isn't capable of miracles, though. It's a lot faster to do our vacuuming manually, and it misses the occasional spot, but that could be perhaps due to Maui messing with its operations as he tries to play with his new friend. But since we expect it to be working while we're out, it should be able to get most of the floor clean by the time we get back. For us, that's good enough.

Cool! My 1st Robot.

Teachers behaving badly

What would the kids say if they ever saw their so-respectable teachers behaving like kindergarten children while playing 4-player "Rayman Raving Rabbids TV Party" on a Wii? On that rather disturbing thought, thanks, Amy, for arranging tonight's fabulously hilarious CNY steam-boat dinner!

To say we had fun would be an understatement. :D

Hi, NBS and HP! Glad y'all could make the party too!

Life at the Improv

Improv games can be quite intimidating to have to engage in. Tina is making the kids do a lot of improv as a means to workshop and devise scenes from completely unrehearsed scenarios.

It's both amusing and annoying when the kids try to "take control" of the "situations" they find themselves in. They will gather for a chat about who is supposed to do what to create the scene, sort of mentally rehearsing their scene before they play it out. What's amusing is their elevated stress levels as they plan and project; what's annoying is that instead of watching a scene, the audience only sees a gaggle of kids huddling in a circle trying to decide what "should" be.

While there is a time and place for meeting and planning, much of what happens in life is unexpected and unrehearsed and it's important for us to improv through many potentially ridiculous situations in which "should" goes out the window in favour of "is".

Improv works when the players simply respond to whatever probable or improbable proposition is made to them through their fellow players. If someone suggests there is a giant spider behind their backs, the other players will accept such and move the scene along by simply responding to the fact. But scenes grind to a halt when certain players start dictating how the other players "should" react, or when players dispute the offer -- basically going into denial.

We play the same game in life. Much of what we encounter are unrehearsed scenes where the only rule is to accept the offer (good or bad, happy or sad, etc.) and move the scene along. Where we mess up in life is when we try to control the uncontrollable, or when we deny the probablilty or even the justice of what is happening to us.

Remember, our job is to move the scene along. Failure is when we bring our scene to a grinding halt.

When evil is evil, and good is clueless

The first movie I pick to watch this year was an orgy of of gore and senseless violence. It's about killing with perfunctory efficiency using small-arms, blades, and whatever else within grabbing range that can send a guy to meet his maker without the fuss and bother of a fair trial before a jury of his peers.

Enough clues? Yes, I watched "Punisher: War Zone", featuring everyone's favourite Marvel non-super non-hero psychopath, the Punisher. And the preceding paragraph roughly summarizes the plot.

This is by no means a critique of the movie. I take my hat off to director, Lexi Alexander, who courageously dispenses with a long, convoluted plot and opts in favour of dropping us straight into the world as Frank Castle himself views it: war with no end, any threat to the innocent is expeditiously removed because the good don't have a clue how to take care of themselves.

The only complication Castle finds himself in is that sometimes we can't immediately tell good from evil, and he has to come to terms with a mistake he makes while pursuing his own course of justice.

P:WZ is no summer blockbuster. I'm glad it doesn't even pretend to be. An acquired taste, then, and definitely not meant for everyone. There are few high points and even then, few as they are, they are tinged with uneasiness. There are "funny" moments, though we laugh only because there's no other way to deal with the brutality of the dispatch. There's a sense of, "Yes! Justice!", but at the same time, "OmG, what a way to go."

Welcome to the world of the Punisher. Thankfully for most of us, we don't live there.

Darwin Award candidate

Something should be done about dangerous barriers

I WISH to highlight the dangerous crossing for pedestrians walking to Thomson Plaza from Jasmine Road.

There is a side road at Thomson Plaza, near the Starbucks outlet. It has four lanes, one for cars and taxis to enter, one for cars to exit the carpark, and two for trade vehicles to enter and exit the delivery area.

There are two barriers across the lanes for trade vehicles and a zebra crossing across the other two lanes. As the traffic there can be heavy, most people use the zebra crossing. But one must negotiate the lanes for trade vehicles before reaching the crossing.

Recently, as I was walking to Thomson Plaza, I decided to go through the lanes for trade vehicles to get to the zebra crossing. One barrier was down while the other was up. It was about 1pm and there were no security guards stationed there. As I walked between the two barriers, one came down and hit my head.

I stumbled into Thomson Plaza for help and sought medical attention at a clinic. The doctor who attended to me told me that she too had been hit by the barrier, but that her umbrella had shielded her from the blow.

I wrote to the mall's management on Dec 21, five days after the accident, to ask them to rectify the problem. I have not received a reply.

Clarice Tan (Mrs)

(STI online Forum, 2 February 2009)

-------------------

Madam

The injury to your head must have been quite serious for you to be raising via the local dailies this oversight of due diligence. One possible countermeasure to prevent a repeat occurrence of this eventuality is to avoid walking under raised barriers altogether. This simple and basic precaution has saved thousands of heads from similar Blunt Force Trauma attempts committed by such wayward barriers as you have had the misfortune to encounter, and millions of dollars in medical fees thereafter.

You raise a legitimate concern regarding the lack of security guards stationed at the barriers. The emergence of sensor-equipped automatic barriers has completely eradicated the need for a manual labourer to perform this operation, forcing yet another uncle to undergo retraining in order to find alternative employment. Perhaps you'll be good enough and employ one to hold an umbrella above your head while you go strolling to the mall from now on?

Nevertheless, we must make allowances for some people who insist on swimming in the crocodile pond even after seeing the lifeguard on duty being devoured. To them, we present an award for thinning the gene pool, hence making the future safer for our descendants.

Hiking Henderson

Hiked the Southern Ridges with Cat and Sam. It was an excellent day for trekking as it was neither too hot nor wet enough to favour bed and blankie over the great outdoors .

It was also an opportunity to meet Sam's folks again, old friends they are from TO days. They did well to keep up with us most of the way, but eventually they left us young 'uns to finish the trail, or rather, until we reached the Hort Park before turning back.

Have to apologise to Cat for turning down her lunch offer. We'd already had it in our minds to reward ourselves with Belgian mussels, and we would not be turned from our culinary objective. All I can say is, we were not disappointed. Mmmm... mussels.

Jen hosted us at dinner at her place. We sampled her experiments with sambal pasta, chix rice balls and her apple juice/7-Up beverage and pronounced them most savory. No leftovers -- is that a compliment to the chef, or what?

A quick shoutout to Felicia and Jessica, new friends Jen introduced to us over dinner. Hi!

Girls and gaming

When I was considering a marriage partner, one characteristeric of the girl of my dreams was that she would enjoy video gaming as much as I did. I could see us pairing up online and adventuring together, hacking and slashing our way to wealth and glory, at least in the virtual world.

June, who I married, is no gamer. All our adventures have been in the real world, and online I still game solo. That is, until she discovered PS on FB.

PS is a game she plays online with her FB friends. It's partially a home-builder's dream in which a key objective is to furnish and decorate the player's virtual home with all the splendours of opulence as the player can afford with the credits earned through playing the game. The player's avatar likewise gets decked out with the the rarest and most lavish couture and accessories virtual money can buy. In a sense, it's transferrance at work: our materialistic fantasy life actualized through a game that rewards pro-social behaviour and a keep-up-with-the-jonses motivation for keeping gameplay fresh and active.

Because of the competition to accumulate wealth, there has developed an almost real-world economy for the game world. Real people -- friends and strangers -- are talking to each other through an online forum inquiring, offering, trading, begging, basically bartering virtual items for the rarer and more in-demand commodities. That, I guess, is where the real fun is.

Now June and May have plunged themselves into the PS game world and are now serious traders in hard-to-acquire goods. It started with a stroke of luck in running across a hot item and making a good trade, spinning off enough capital to seek out more... rinse, repeat, make more profits.

Oh, and I get to help out too, questing for stuff they are likely to sell, and because they are the more market-savvy ones, I leave the selling to them.

So I've got my wish, after all. My wife and I are in a non-violent adventure to acquire obscene amounts of virtual social standing and commensurate ostentation, though I'm kinda' missing the gore and tension of a more visceral survive-or-die struggle. Still, it's a start.

Shoulders of giants

So good to have Tina back to guide the Drama Club this year. Steph did a fantastic job last year, but with the ambition and scale of my vision for the Club, I think Tina has the influence and standing to make it happen.

Hey, I can so dream big, ok?

Settled in

Finally, we can say we've completely moved into our new digs. The last room is clear of our stuff and we can see the floor once again. Operation Spring Clean has been a resounding success. We're so proud of ourselves... well, mostly June. Heh.

Already we can say the cats have settled down as well. They're so comfortable, they've already destroyed our brand new sofa! Poor sofa.

Years in the making

Haven't seen Lil and Mike for a while, but they've arrived from TO to catch up with us, bringing their little one in tow. This meeting, several years in the making, saw us convening at the PS Cafe, Dempsey Hill, to devour pastries, sip beverages and share accumulated gossip about our absent friends we used to hang out with long ago. Here we are considering how to divvy up five profiteroles drowned in dark chocolate sauce among seven of us, with more desserts to follow.

The company looking totally stuffed after a good feeding. We shared a variety of a la mode cakes. Yums.

We came to the conclusion that we should meet more often than just once a year. We were once a tight knit bunch way back in TO, and there's no reason why that has to change, even though some time has passed between us since we last saw each other.

Urgency bordering on desperation

Between reunion dinner and reunion coffee, June and I took Aunt Shirls to absorb the atmosphere of Chinatown on CNY eve.  This is the first time Shirls has dropped by to celebrate CNY with us, so we thought it would be most memorable if we plunged her straight into the heart of the dragon itself.

As expected, Chinatown was bursting at the seams with bargain hunters, last-minute shoppers and tourists. Human physical contact was frequent, limited mostly to shoulder charges and elbow jabs; though I must add in a non-threatening form, just enough to avoid traffic from seizing up altogether. Stallholders hawked their discount prices over portable amp systems adding to the general chaos and confusion.

We we there only from about 2000-2100, early enough to soak up the excitement without feeling a complete loss of control over the situation. Any later -- say around midnight -- all bets are off. By then, most people would have been done with their reunion dinners, and prices would have reached rock-bottom, triggering the buying frenzy of the patiently circling, milling, gathering crowd. No, we were long gone by then, the only purchase we made was a new pair of flip-flops to replace Shirls' shoes which were giving her blisters.

Must make a note of the public restroom facilities at Chinatown MRT which under no circumstances I would have even approached except in dire necessity. Surprisingly, despite the crowd and its urgency bordering on desperation, people arranged themselves within orderly queues behind their unit of choice and patiently bore out their turn.

My particular *ahem* need was for the cubicle, for which I had to wait a bit longer. Butt instead of the hellhole I was expecting I found myself in a clean, dry space with lots of TP to spare. Even the seat was spray-free, if a tad warm. It was a pleasant surprise because the crowd comprised a large proportion of people who do not have a particularly strong reputation for their toiletry habits. Perhaps it's time to rethink the stereotype.

Made it back to Dad's for the usual family coffee and riot to count down the new year.

I live at mumble, mumble...

Here's an interesting article about place names that have changed in meaning due to changes in language use over time. Once respectable addresses are now the butt of jokes, much to the embarrassment to the good folks in residence there.

Perhaps they should now just opt to have their correspondence via email instead. Like for example, arsewankerzorz@whateveremail.com.

Last minute spring cleaning

One day before CNY eve. A day dedicated to collecting pork from the market, collecting Aunt Shirls from the airport, and collating piles of no longer wanted assorted detritus, taking what's recyclable to the newly discovered recycling point downstairs where we hope it will find a new lease of life somewhere, somehow, as long as it isn't cluttering up our second bedroom any more.

A little last minute spring cleaning before the Ox takes over the new calendar year.

Baring boobs ends in bum deal

Eh, this isn't fair, is it? "A FILIPINA [pub employee] was fined $1,000 on Friday for appearing topless while dancing at a pub in Duxton Hill."

The story goes on to say she was dancng in front of a bunch of male patrons when the cops walked in. How come no one followed up on the culpability of those unnamed male patrons? I'm sure their modesty had been soooo outraged.

All quiet in the Tower

Three Titans are all that remain from the previous battle. But now Starfire has left Earth to patrol the intergalactic pathways around her home planet, Tamaran. Raven has grown much since, and is now the guardian of the extradimensional planes. Cyborg, the sole Titan still based in Jump City has his hands full with the never-ending chaos of a city fraught with imperiled citizens at every corner.

Titans Tower is often quiet now, but Cyborg is grateful that Raven still checks in on him and the mortal realm every so often. With so much going on, Jump City needs to rebuild a new team of heroes... and quickly. Could Poison Ivy be a likely candidate?

Another possible plotline for the non-existant Season Six of the Teen Titans animated series.

Yes, Mr President!

I confess to having attempted to stay up to watch Obama give his inauguration speech 'live' on CNN, but my brain initiated shut-down immediately after Biden's swearing in. Despite the long wait for things to happen, I wasn't bored, just tired.

Fortunately I could still catch a recording of it on the web:


A down-to-earth speech, practical and touches on many pertinent issues challenging the world today. It's about people having to work hard, in mutual cooperation, holding fast to strong values and looking towards a brighter future. The message is mundane, but a necessary reminder that if we are to progress forward, first we have to rebuild the economy and repair our foreign policy from basics in order to remake our present from scratch.

Gosh, suddenly I'm speaking in the first-person plural. There's something about this speech that seems to apply to everybody, whether American citizen or not.

A change of leadership

It's only a few minutes before the change in US leadership becomes official. Media hype has built up Obama's Inauguration into some kind of historical event, and the sense of it, the excitement, the expectation and anticipation are almost palpable.

The man bears the weight of the world on his shoulders. People are expecting big things from him, but in general all we want is a little more peace, a little bit more spending money. Not sure how he's gonna pull it off, but we put a lot of faith in that which is new, and for him to actually become President already signals big changes in favour of the optimistic.

I never realized how deeply-felt this change of leadership was until I came across this clip of Grade (Primary) School kids reading their letters of congratulations to their new President Elect. So young and already so politically aware.


The eyes of the world are on the man, even the children's. Could we be expecting too much? We won't know for a while yet, but in the meantime, let's just soak in the euphoria of this historic Inauguration first.

Civil servant makes a splash, gets a public dunking

For all our cosmopolitan aspirations, the vast majority of us S'poreans are still very much a kampong people. We keep a close eye on each other's behaviour and expect that all of us should conform to a certain standard of decorum in our public conduct.

That's probably fine in most situations -- we do want an orderly and safe public space to live in -- but when we set our expectations on the basis of pettiness and envy and enforce them through punishment, or in this case, public censure, I think we're causing our own brain drain. We're chasing away those who appear "different" and narrowly defining our society as only accepting of those who are equally small-minded and conformist as the rest of us.

So a top Civil Servant makes a splash of his publically-funded wages by taking a long vacation with his family to bond over exotic Parisian cuisine. And he has the temerity to publish his travelogue in the local press. But because the rest of our incomes are going down the toilet with this economic climate, we get upset because this "insensitive" individual refuses to put on an unhappy face and wallow with us in the dumps of despair. It rankles further because we feel that it's our taxpayers' money that has gone towards funding his high life, and so we can take the moral high ground to question if this is how our hard-earned taxes are to be frittered away.

The S'porean mind is complex and hard to fathom. We tell our kids to strive for success, to do everything it takes to raise their lot in life. Do better, work harder and above all, earn more money so life can be more comfortable for them and their family. And then we have this backlash directed at someone who has attained the S'porean Dream and is living the way his parents had hoped he would one day.

It's an interesting message we're sending our kids. Perhaps more than our National Pledge, that dusty old Ribena ad has done more to dictate S'porean existance for the generation that still remembers it. Two kids under a tree are having a conversation that goes like this:

'What are you drinking?'

'Ribena. My marder say it is good for me.'

'Can I have some?'

'Yes, but not too murch.'

It seems moderation in all things is the expected norm, so much so that we're now dictating how one's earned income should be spent to maintain par with the Tans of the underclass. All the more so when said income comes from taxpayer dollars. Let's see, which government department did he work in? Ah, Environment and Water Resources. Now, how much would we pay for our relatively low levels of pollution in our densely packed urban landscape? For the garbage disposal efficiency that so many of us discard our junk without thought to where it all goes, apart from away? For the swarthes of green oases blended integrally and seamlessly with our buildings and roads? For the crystal clear water from our taps we drink, wash and play in with no fear of falling sick upon contact? These conveniences are our taxpayer dollars at work. If we still lived in squalor in an environment made of crap and he was livin' it up, I'd shout "crucify him!" with the rest of the mob, but in all good conscience, I can't because I don't.

And consider this: what has he bought? Some international exposure, some new knowledge, a new skill, a cultural exchange and a potential partnership with a world-renowned institution. If only our own vacations were so focused and purposeful. Most of us just hop on a bus and drive through city after city bleary-eyed just to come home and say that we've been there. Guess we get what we pay for.

It's not the over-the-top vacation expense that worries me as much as the public response to it. It's a response that will drive our best and brightest away from our doors. If they're not appreciated here, they have the means and resources to move elsewhere where they and their money are more welcome (and good riddance because they were spoiling our kampong anyway with their extravagant lifestyles).

Even more scary than that, we're implying that dreams and aspirations have no place in our society because they don't -- or shouldn't -- come true. We take a perverse delight in tearing others down if we don't make the grade ourselves. In a different kind of society such stories tend to be celebrated instead. Think Forbes' "Made Bank?" programme on Channel 5, for example. Such societies comprise a population that is enterprising, innovative and optimistic. They're also a people that are proven to be able to pull together as they stand through hard times.

I don't know how we're going to respond as a people to this current economic situation. But if today's story is any indication, the biggest problem we face isn't the financial crisis. It's Small Penis Syndrome.

Dim sum brekkie

One more reason to celebrate living up North: taking a morning stroll up Admiralty Hill to work up an appetite, then feasting on delectable dim sum at the Dragon Phoenix perched right up there on the summit. Ok, maybe I'm overdramatizing the location a bit, but it's fun to imagine.

According to the website, the restaurant runs under the chefs whom between them have concocted some of most popular local dishes as we know them today. The take the credit for chilli crab, and the now ubiquitous annual yu shang without which no new year would be complete.

But we were only scouting the dim sum for a new year brekkie with the Wongs, and I believe we've found the perfect spot this year (last year we ended up at McD's because of a misunderstanding over our reservation at some Chinatown restaurant -- never again). Here, as long as we show up at opening time we're practically guaranteed a table. Being out of the way has its perks.

How's the food? Best pushcart dim sum I've had, ever. You know how when at a certain point the oil and grease suddenly cause you to feel like you've run into a brick wall, right? Not here. I felt I could keep ordering more and keep going. Everything was light, impacting only the tastebuds and not the stomach. Even the lo mai gai didn't just sit in my gut and make me wish the meal was over... there I was ordering egg tarts for dessert.

Cost for June and me: $40. That sounds a bit expensive, but if we had brought more people with us, the per capita cost should reduce quite significantly.

For us, the question about where we could get a good dim sum meal has now been laid to rest. Hike up the hill, and then to burn off all those calories hike back down again.

My job's in "Jeopardy"

New hat to wear this year: gameshow host. dNYel is taking one day during the J1 orientation week to run a department programme. My job is to organize and host the gameshow segment. We'll be playing Jeopardy, a very popular TV staple in the States.

Of course, our version won't have as much flash. It'll be cobbled together using PowerPoint and whatever else we can scrape together from college resources. CL dept has been kind enough to lend us their buzzers and electronic scoreboards, so today Gerald and I assembled the rather archaic looking system together and, by golly, it works! It's entirely manual, but if we can hide the manpower behind the machines -- and all the cabling that reminds me of a mass of entrails spilled all over the floor -- the whole setup should look quite impressive for our standards.

I like Jeopardy. It's a test of knowledge for the contestants, but there's also a wide range of general knowledge the audience can pick up just by watching the game. If the audience has something to root for, it should be all the more fun for everyone. Can anyone say, "inter-house game"?

What's next for NYeDC

Executive Decision: Drama Night 09 will be a festival of 10-minute plays.

Rationale: To immerse more club members in the full experience of producing a theatrical performance from beginning to end.
To offer leadership opportunities -- student Directors will source and adapt a script of their choice, scout their own talent in the casting of their play/s, and schedule and conduct the training and rehearsals necessary for a credible showing on Drama Night in mid-May 2009.

Role of external instructor: To provide training in basic theatrical skills for the club members; train student directors in the skills, duties and responsibilities pertaining to their role; ensure the quality and high standards expected of all plays submitted for Drama Night 09.

Incentives: To offer recognition in the form of Awards in the categories of Best Direction, Best Performance (Male), Best Performance (Female), Best use of Light, Best use of Sound, Best Ensemble Performance, Best "Bumph!". Rubrics to be worked out.

Long Term possibilities: 10-minute plays are minimalist and hence portable, and can be offered in collaboration with other theatrical organizations involved with community theatre, thus providing students with exposure to a public audience.
If our Awards establish themselves as being based on good, solid professional theatre practices, in subsequent years we might consider inviting other institutions to submit their own entries in addition to our own to widen the talent pool.
NYeDC becomes more like a talent training and support agency for young aspiring theatre practioners rather than just being only an interest group.

If you've read this far, my apologies. I'm working out the details of our contract with our instructor, and this stuff's been on my mind. See, work's already begun.

Hmm... hope Tina will be agreeable to this new direction for the club. Doubt I'll be able to pull this one off without her experience and clout. *crosses fingers...

Paint the hall blue!

Congrats to Team Peggy for ending off the year as House champs! We've been frustrated every year so today's announcement came as an amazingly pleasant surprise. Well done, fellow Pegs! Now let's kick some a** in 2009 too!

Pineapples to kick off the new year

CNY preparations have begun at home, kinda' early this year. The good news is that June has reverted to making her pineapple tart filling from fresh pineapples, 'stead of using the pre-packaged stuff.

We picked up 12 whole pineapples (skinned right before our eyes) from the Chinatown Market, and went looking for a hand grater by which to manually pulp the pineapples with. Then we got smart and decided to use the blending machine at home. CNY isn't so far away that we can spare the time, eh?

With mechanical assistance, June got the 12 pineapples pulped within the afternoon. Now it's all simmering in the wok to be slowly cooked over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, June's prepping the other baked goods she's making in time to greet the season.

Hope dNYel is hungry! Festive cookies soon coming your way!

20 years from retirement

What are people looking forward to when they retire? What do they expect out of life when they hit that age when they don't have to work any more? How will they spend their time then, and how will they continue obtaining the resources that they need to sustain themselves over the next couple of decades or so, assuming that everything goes according to the best-case biological plan?

For many people, their goal is to slog it out in the here and now so that they can retire and "enjoy life". They'd spend their time then taking care of family matters, which they are too busy to take care of in their working years. They'd have time on their hands, not needing to watch the clock any longer and they can do whatever they want because they are forever free of deadlines and superiors. With the money they've frugally saved over their long careers, they'd have the means to live out their lives as comfortably as they have become accustomed to. Ah, the golden age of retirement... heh, if only.

Just barely 20 years away from retirement age, and already the prospect scares me. I'm an instant gratification kind of guy, and if I wasn't already enjoying life now, I doubt very much I'd enjoy it anytime later. Besides, if we're too busy for those nearest and dearest to us right now, there's no reason to assume that our presence will be appreciated then when they've grown too busy for us.

Well, maybe except as cheap day-care for our grands whose parents can't find the time to look after them themselves. And then there goes the no-deadline, no-watching-clock ideal. Junior has to be in school by 7, fetched and ferried around after-school activities from 3, be home in bed by 8, thanks very much. No mahjong for you Pa, the boy has an exam tomorrow, remember? Oh yah, your Alzheimer's. Meds three times a day after meals, and for goodness sake go change your diaper NOW, ok?

And that's for people with family. Lots of us DINKS today don't even have that to look forward to because of our decision to opt out of that Wonderful Life. If we're going to stay relevant we're going to have to keep proving day after day that we can still run with the pack, pretty much until we can't any more. And at 62-65 I believe we can still run with the best of them, so unless things have gone seriously wrong physically, I'd still feel too young to retire. Ask me again in 20 years.

And as for retirement savings, I think the past year has been a big reality check for us all in that we can't trust in the value of our accumulated wealth. So much that people had stashed away for a rainy day got washed away in the financial tsunami. Cash-rich one day, peniless the next -- and not necessarily due to anything that was of their own doing either. When idyllic fantasy met unthinkable reality, we learned the hard way that financial wealth is merely imagination working overtime on our behalf. Stings, doesn't it?

I think I'll continue working because I feel I should earn my keep, past glories notwithstanding. People today have neither memory nor gratitude so just because I might have been a career whiz before, there is no obligation for others to let me rest on my laurels while they are doing their best to topple my achievements, break my records, and leave me in their dust. Fact of life. It's what we hope for, anyway, every subsequent generation to better its predecessors. That's progress.

I fear irrelevance. I may be a misanthrope raising my fist at everyone around me, but I still need people around me to raise my fist to. I view retirement as an eventuality that will put me out of the game, especially as I don't forsee having a family around me to abuse me in return. No, I don't wanna retire. Heck, I don't even wanna grow up.

Are you happy at work?

These days, I don't wake up for work with especial dread. Yes, there are days when I'd much prefer to stay in bed 'cos the day looks like it's going to be a long, draining one, but at least now I can step forth knowing I'll actually be missed if I wasn't there. That's stronger motivation than just having to show up at work because the consequences for absenteesm are dire.

My job itself is anything but boring and routine. There are so many opportunities to try on different hats apart from being the elbow-patched drone at the chalk whyteboard. For example, there is such a diversity of CCAs on campus that when we get deployed to look after different activities from time to time, we can't help but pick up new skills along the way. After all, we have to at least look like we know what we're doing if we want our kids to trust that we know what we're doing.

For me, I've had the opportunity to play theatre (and movie!) director and producer, I had to learn from scratch to be a hard-nosed news publisher, and even though I was terrible at debates I still learned to appreciate a good argument. And all that from just being involved in CCAs alone.

Every new hat unlocks new areas of creativity for me to dabble in. Occasionally I amaze myself when some ideas work -- "Admiral" was the one best example of this happening -- though most of the time when I make a mess of things it was because the learning curve was steeper than I had anticipated. But I still gained from the experience, or the attempt anyway.

So the job's ok, I guess. Can't really complain. But to say I like my work would also be to say I like the people I work with. It's really rare to find such a combination of friends among my colleagues with whom we share more than work. We are all very good at what we do, but at the same time, we don't take ourselves too seriously either. We spend time hangin' out with each other, just as much as we have formal meetings planning strategy, curriculum, pedagogy and other concepts represented by big words. But our most important meetings are breakfast and lunch talking about, uh, less consequential things.

Are you happy with your job? You may be good at what you do, no doubt, but if you want to know how happy you are at work, one effective indicator is to see who you go to lunch with.

As it turns out, my lunch partners seem to be dwindling in number somewhat... it's going to be an interesting year.

Too stupid to quit

Hi Selene! In your private comment, you observed that I sound like I like my work, and you wished you could say the same about yours.

First, I have to say that I have had my share of sucky jobs before. I spent years as a mindless corporate zombie, sharpening pencils and pouring coffee for other people. The work itself wasn't tough but it was to me utterly pointless... except for the pencils. Every day I'd wake up feeling that I was just a tiny cog contributing to some bazillionaire's vast financial empire and getting in return little more than a couple of grand a month to "buy something nice" for myself.

Too stupid to quit, too. I would have felt like such a loser to quit (how that philosophy got popular, I'll never know). It took an untimely retrenchment for me to strike out on a different career path leading to where I am today. Which is where, exactly? Wait, let me moralize a bit first. *drags out soapbox to stand on and waggles right index finger pontifically in the air

We don't always find the best match right away. In times like these, we're grateful to have any job at all, sucky or otherwise. While in the grind, we may chafe and whine, but for those of us who pay enough attention, we learn something about ourselves -- our motivations, perhaps, or the kinds of people we prefer to interact with, or the needs we derive most satisfaction in helping others fulfil -- something that will help point us in the direction to go next. 

Next entry: Liking Work

p.s., happy (very) belated Christmas! It's an entry I started and forgot about. Finished it today.

Hello 2009

Yay! First entry for the year. A year older and more sedate, we spent our countdown hours at a simple dinner with friends. Good to know I still have some. Heh.

If I were the resolution-making sort, I'd probably consider doing something about living more healthily... maybe a better diet and more exercise. Maybe I should also stop entertaining Bad Idea Bears so often too. After some lousy choices, my sleep schedule's totally messed up, and I get the feeling there's still some work somewhere at the back of my mind crying out to be finished. The usual types of resolutions then.

As adults are wont to say, let's see. Meantime, let's all look forward to a great new year, whatever our circumstances. :)

Bright, shiny and new

The reopening of an old mall has inextricable tied me to my neighbourhood once and for all. The crappy old mall from long ago has had a major facelift and it's back in business looking sharp, bright and shiny, and boasting some big retail names as tenants.

With all my material needs easily taken care of just a short distance from my own doorstep, there is no more need for me to go gallivanting any further. Hung out there already, twice in two days, and it has been an effort to not buy any more stuff (especially from the electronics haven on the ground floor!) than just a quick meal. Just because things are available doesn't mean I have to get it all now, right?

Yes. Life in the North...

An Arts House wedding

Congrats, Yee! Attended his wedding at the Arts House this afternoon. It was a very pleasant, easy-going service led mostly by Yee himself before he relinquished the microphone to a good-natured JP who presided over the legal formalities. Each of his guests received a personalized gift for attending based on his impressions of us or what he could recall of us. For instance, I received ice-cream vouchers due to a couple of escapades with him at Haagen-Dazs, and June got a pretty egg-shaped music-box (no, not a Faberge, quit drooling) because he remembered she likes music boxes. Yee knows how to put his personal touch to events he organizes. Would have loved to stay and hang out longer, but there was a turkey in the fridge that needed roasting.

Haven't done a Christmas thing at our place for a long time, so now that we've got our new digs, there was every reason to play host again. June wore the chef's hat tonight. She has the recipe for the roast turkey and ham nailed down, but she's been experimenting all week to discover the secret of a good pumpkin soup. With me as guinea pig, we ascertained a couple of key factors: it has to be butternut pumpkin (ours came from Mustafa, cheap and good), and it needs a sprinkle of powdered nutmeg and hand-squeezed OJ to take the edge off. There's still some in the fridge, along with the turkey leftovers. Guess what we're having for dinner tomorrow night?

Christmas. Wet. Dream.

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas

Just like the ones in Singapore.

Where umbrellas mushroom

and thunder goes, "boom,"

As the Mon-soon visits us once more

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas

With every pressie that I buy

May our dollar maintain as high

Though the forecasts say it's gonna fry.

(with apologies to Irving Berlin)

Early Christmas at Porta Porta

The Days of Feasting have begun! June and I are celebrating the season early at Porta Porta, a quaint little Italian eatery roughly opposite Changi Prison, if you are looking for directions. I haven't been here in years, but the place is as charming as I remember -- an oasis of old-time Euro tucked away in this odd out-of-the-way location.

Mussels are turning out to be our favourite starter! Here we have a deep dish of mussels in red sauce. Must say, the sauce packs a lot of body, a good thing to counter the mussels which were a little on the chewy side.

June went conservative with her usual spaghetti vongole. I was craving MEAT and the leg of lamb did not disappoint: boneless and all-lean, yet so tender, just so faintly pink and juicy. It came with a side of eggplant which I do not like, generally, but somehow I can stomach it if it's done Mediterranean style. Don't ask why.

All that and a bowl of minnestrone came up to a hair over $50 per person. Not too bad considering we're celebrating Christmas for two. Mass gorging with family commences tomorrow!

He who carries the biggest stick

I went to watch The Day the Earth Stood Still with no high expectations and true enough it turned out to be quite mediocre. I'm tired of the number of morality plays that tell us to curb our excesses and give a thought to our planet. Yes, I know it's an important message and I buy into it a great deal... well, sort of... but I've heard more exciting versions of it in more exciting films already.

DESS is a remake of the 1951 movie of the same title, with roughly the same message: to stop our nonsense (violence, resource depletion, pollution, you name it) or be exterminated as a favour to the rest of the species who share our planet. It's parallel to the biblical tale of the Ark and the Flood in which the whole earth gets scrubbed clean of the mess people have made of it and then life gets to start afresh all over again.

Interesting enough premise, I suppose, but where things go wrong for me is the misplaced sense of scale in the struggle to convince Klaatu, the alien... um, assessor being, that humanity still has a chance to atone for ourselves before the "Flood" washes us all away. Given the impending disaster is global in nature, it does not make much logical sense for Klaatu to base his judgement simply on the behaviour of the two individuals he has made some meaningful contact with. 

Statistically, the sample size just isn't representative enough of the entire human population to make that kind of a decision. Nor is the time scale sufficient -- what, 24 hours? -- to make such an earth-shattering pronouncement on the people of the earth. For a being representing many advanced civilizations, Klaatu seems a bit over-anxious to make up his mind about us.

OK, I know it's pointless to argue movie logic, but there isn't much excitement to carry us through either. Klaatu (and his bodyguard, the 40 foot tall cyclopean G.O.R.T.) represent an unstoppable force none of our terrestrial weaponry and technology has any effect on. Herein lies the big cosmic double standard: Klaatu say you all play nice with one another and with me, or G.O.R.T. will unleash such violence upon you the human race will not survive to see another day. So really, he who carries the biggest stick gets to walk the softest of us all.

It doesn't help that Keanu Reeves has finally succumbed to all the jokes made about his acting and has been cast to play the entirely wooden, expressionless Klaatu. There's a role written especially for him! I couldn't connect with him, nor any of the other characters so I didn't particularly care how it all would turn out in the end. That, I think, is the greatest tragedy in this script.

On the plus side, dinner was quite enjoyable. The Mussel Guys at Vivo serves up a fabulous cast iron pot of steaming Belgian Mussels in white wine sauce. Never before have I had such succulent mussels in such a potent soup -- all garlicky and almost herbal in flavour. There's a 2-for-1 deal for Citi card holders this season, but too bad neither I nor June have one. The accompanying seafood pasta we ordered was so-so, but at least now I know where we can get good mussels. Yums!

Read any Questionable Content lately?

I think my GRADUATED students and older readers would enjoy "Questionable Content" (QC) as much as I. That is to say, current students please wait till you have left college before you pick it up -- it'll be more meaningful to you then.

The characters in QC are familiar, reminiscent of my own circle of friends who are young, single, and dealing with the issue of relationships themselves. There's always a tension between platonic friendship and sexual attraction, and because that often leads to awkward situations there's a lot of humour in how the main characters balance respectable restraint with careless flirtation, the fun they have in each others' company and having conversations laced with graphic innuendo.

Much of the humour is wry and dry, but there are the occasional laugh out loud moments as the reader gets blindsided by a bizarre comment or response. The dialogue is witty, clever and sharp; and it's been a page turner for me 'cos it's fun to see how far Marten and Faye will get on with each other as friends and housemates, but never as lovers though it's obvious that they so want to.

Actually, I know how it turns out for them since I discovered QC only recently, but I've been reading QC from the very first strip to understand the circumstances in which they and their supporting characters are in now. I'm taking it in blocks of 50 strips a day so far, and it's still going to take me many more days to catch up with the current content (as of today, QC is at the 1297th strip). NBS will pedantically calculate it to 26.5 days now that she has the relevant data.

It's also interesting to watch an artist develop his art. Jeph Jacques has been drawing this webcomic for nearly five years now and in that time his initial crude line drawings have evolved into more realistic-looking people. Also, he's put in many more characters and created a more complex relationship web, but it's the consistency of his characters that make them believable: their expressions, postures and gestures are apt and emote well with the dialogue.

I don't really know why I find QC so engaging. Perhaps it's because the characters are easy to identify and identify with. They live regular, mundane existences but they get by with a little help from their friends, and that's what gets to me most. There's nothing like having a small, tight circle of good friends to keep one sane in this world.

Things that make my wife scream

I dunno, turning the living room TV into a 42" PC monitor just might be one of them!

We could have been neighbours

How come when I was living here, little eateries such as this one did not exist in the neighbourhood? The Char-Grill Bar only showed up after the Big Push North. Well cooked, reasonably priced, restaurant-standard cuisine: I would so have been a regular customer! The staff may be a little new and hesitant, but there's no denying the quality of the food. These following quick shots from my mobile phone cam and the lousy kopitiam lighting do no justice to the dishes, but trust me, they're yummy!

 
Three pretty, tender lambchops that went well with what tasted like freshly made mint sauce. Sides pictured here are cheese pasta and seasonal veggies. Somehow, this combo worked and made my mouth happy.

 
This is June's mixed grill. Odd that we were just saying how hard it is these days to find one, and here it is. Pork chop, lamb chop, a big sausage and a sunny-side up. The garden salad with the mayo applied like that reminds me of somebody's rib-cage :p. I'd say the only thing that didn't work for me was the egg which somehow took on the teflon flavour of a new frying pan, which probably was the case.

Hard to find good, cheap food (each dish was $9.80 including choice of two hot and cold sides) so I hope they made the right decision opening up here at 417 Yishun.

Bolt, the super non-super dog

The huge blockbuster movies of this year are full of big action. They're about individual people who rise up from the crowd and be a hero for the helpless and oppressed. Think Iron Man, The Dark Knight, and the other super-movies that have been raking in the big bucks these recent years: movie-goers love to be transported out of the mundane and experience moments of triumph over injustice even if it is only in fantasy.

Disney's Bolt completely reverses this notion. Super dog, Bolt, has been psychologically screwed with by the producers of his TV action series to believe he has super powers. It makes for stronger realism and heightened drama, his demented producer thinks. Living all his life on a movie set (a super-canine version of The Truman Show) he suddenly encounters the real world when he becomes an accidental stowaway in a packing crate bound for NYC. It takes a while, but what he believes about himself slowly crumbles away and he has to cope, not with new and unexpected super-powers but with new and unexpected normalcy.

This is a parable that we can expect to recur for us many times over, going by the state of our current world economy. Many of us may once have been high-fliers, performing tasks that seemed important, critical even, to saving if not the world, then our families or even our self-esteem. But with mass unemployment as  a Damocles' Sword over our heads many of us are going to have to adapt to a life that isn't defined by our jobs any more. Finding and living with a new identity, that's a tough one.

What keeps Bolt going on his road trip back West to Hollywood and home are his ability to make use of the strengths he already has as an ordinary dog -- courage, smarts, and doggy-eyes. What drives him forward and gives him a purpose and a plan is the one belief that cannot be shaken: the love of his co-star, Penny, for whom he will do anything. What gets him through hard times -- and occasionally into hard times -- are his unlikely friends, Mittens the cat who keeps him grounded on reality, and Rhino the Hamster who's loyalty and indomitable "I can!" spirit makes magic happen.

May we who face dark days ahead likewise find our own way home.

Oh yeah, and I watched Bolt in 3D too! Unglam glasses but the illusion of depth on screen made Bolt all that much more pat-able.

How are things in post-apocalyptia?

Awesome, is how. And that's how you describe a game like Fallout 3 too.

Combining RPG with first (or optional third) person shooter, it's runnin' and gunnin' with a point. Gameplay flexibly accommodates the player's personal style, whether playing as a sickeningly polite do-gooder, a snarly kill-everything-that-moves psycho, or shades of grey in between, the game responds accordingly. Actions have consequences and NPCs and quests open up differently depending on the player's past deeds.

The setting is a nuclear-blasted wasteland, presenting a huge, open play area traversable only on foot, though every checkpoint discovered puts a marker on the automap that the player can instantly jump to as long as there is no enemy activity nearby. Walking to discover new checkpoints could be tedious if not for the many opportunities to encounter enemies, stock up supplies and watch and participate in many set-pieces that add interest to the trudge. For example, there's the opportunity to release a Super Mutant Behemoth to see how it will take revenge on its captors (of course, that means having an enraged Behemoth to deal with after) and here was this bunch of Raiders in the act of punishing one of their own -- I tried to rescue the poor guy but he turned on me and I had to shoot him anyway, the ungrateful wretch.

What's fun is that the game world feels like it's living and breathing. There are enemies to kill but there are lots of other people to interact with. A few actually join as a partner -- including a dog by the stupid name of Dogmeat -- depending on their regard of the player. Dogmeat will join up regardless.

Lots of quests to keep the player occupied. Apart from the main quest, there is a long list of side quests, some of which are quite involving in themselves. And it's fun to hear your exploits being reported on the portable radio you carry as "news" reports that depending on your performance will have you praised, villified or questioned by the rather self-righteous sounding DJ.

But it's 3Dog, the DJ, who is the player's constant companion and conscience. The music he plays is far preferable to the "rival" radio station which pumps out insane propaganda messages and Sousa marches. The music 3Dog plays is oddly from the 1940's by artists like Bing Crosby, The Ink Spots, and Roy Brown. My personal favourite track is "Civilization" by The Andrews Sisters with Danny Kaye, a comical and strangely appropriate song for post-apocalyptia as it is today. For the moment I have a bunch of songs older than me playing in my head. They're catchy and the melodies sound quite simple, but I discovered very difficult to sing along with due to certain intricacies in the music that I just don't... get. Weird.

I could go on to discuss the merits of V.A.T.S. and S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (basically an innovative enemy targetting and a character customization system respectively) but they're easier to play with than explain. I will say that I'm a little disappointed that my character is already maxed out at Level 20 and I'm halfway through the main quest only. Yes, there are a ton of rare items to find that can help me increase individual stats and combat survivability but it's a little limiting to think I've reached my maximum potential already when there's so much more left to accomplish. Heh. Sounds like real life.

House warming :)

This ol' house has never seen so many people before. So good to see the brekkie people past, present and some with spouses or partners making our usual lively commotion within these walls. It's the last opportunity for us to meet this informally before they make good on their vacation plans this year and I'm thrilled we made the best of it. Even Mel Skyped in via Amy's Mac and got a real tour of the place including a virtual staring contest with Maui whom we happened to catch 'live' on webcam.

June was very efficient in getting the salad and punch operational as soon as she got back from work. M-i-L pulled out all the stops helping us with the fried noodles, a vicious red curry chicken and a bonus banana bread. Everybody brought a little something: KL made a green chix curry, Jo-jo with a sushi platter, Amy and B-lo combining with a pair of Sarpino's, Wayne brought two bottles of red, and lots of dessert items including Sha's fabulous trifle, NBS's cheesecake and Fen brought the birthday cake for the December baby among us.

Even with the help of Derek, HP, Sheikh, Vince, Linc, and KL's family, there was too much food! We really missed To*ny's appetite last night! Eventually many of our guests had to take home almost as much food as they brought, and we still have a stockpile that would last us a nuclear winter, if only it wasn't perishable within a day. As hosts, we'd better start estimating our rations better.

Hangin' with the guys really helped lighten my mood considerably. See? No pix! Too busy flitting from guest to guest to bother with the cam for once. Sometimes, the best images are the ones we store in our brains.

Downhill slide

Entries have been rather erratic lately. It's a case of too much happenning that isn't exactly worth writing home about. Even when there are days I can spot blogging potential, I'm like, whatever, I'm on vacation.

So yes, there's been a downhill slide into the doldrums, though I can't put a finger on a direct cause.

One big factor, I suppose, is the big move up north. Yes, I have a lovely new house and all, but the transition to get here has been month after month of additional stress dealing with financial, legal and housing authorities, agents and the people they represent, our renovation works and making sure every little detail is tweaked to absolute perfection. The sad thing is, all these details actually went smoothly, everyone was nice, and everyone did their best to either accommodate or help us, and I still got my nerves frayed over it.

Through it all, some routines that I use to keep myself sane like blogging and breakfast have been disrupted, there have been some unexpected changes in staff deployment that have been rather distressing, and now that I've moved into the new place I have to get used to some new routines that are going to make it difficult for me to recover my old ones.

Without going into detail, it's like this: Living this far north, it feels like I've been cut off from everyone, everywhere and everything. There's no reason to drive anywhere because everything's here: food, entertainment and public transport if I want to go anywhere further (though why would I want to?). It's a self-contained enclave, up here.

The other thing is, I'm kinda' used to living in a rat hole, basically, and the supplier of our flooring summed it up best by remarking that the type of laminate we chose "is meant for high class people, you know?" When others are talking about the collapse of the economy being due to people living beyond their means, I can't help but think they're talking about me.

Currently undergoing "Fallout 3" therapy, taking it all out on those poor Super Mutants and their ilk, though I'm pretty sure this form of treatment is not a very healthy way to deal with my baggage.

Hopefully, I'll get used to life up here soon. Then hopefully I'll recover my good humour. Till then, somebody sing me a Bob Marley tune, please?

Heck in a handbasket

The world is going to heck in a handbasket real fast. What with the global economic depression and all the nonsense in Thailand, India and in the Gulf of frakkin' Aden it looks like we've finally lost our minds and we're bent on self-destruction.

Nothing makes sense. An unhappy political minority is destroying their own country because they got outvoted at the last election which they themselves forced -- and lost anyway. A bunch of teenage hoodlums plan and execute a most effective and heroic military operation against several non-military targets resulting in a most impressive kill ratio but only because their targets can't shoot back. I'm sure there's a medal there for you boys, though it'll probably be your parents who'll have to receive it on your behalf, posthumously. And over in the Gulf of frakkin' Aden grand-scale armed robbery has become a profitable multi-million dollar business. I suppose that's one outside-the-box means of protecting oneself from the financial crisis.

What do these people want? They want to be shot at. They're militants, they're prepared for war. They have the logistics, they have the ordnance, they have the strategy. Their only problem is that no one is shooting at them to justify their raison d'etre. So if the mountain won't come to them, they must go to the mountain. And unfortunately for us, to get to the mountain they have to get through us first.

It's stupid.

Belt-tightening

While I've been occupied with adjusting my life to accommodate new schedules and new living arrangements, my virtual life has been languishing. No updates here, my online pets are neglected and are probably starving to death right now, but I still can't muster enough will to care.

Too much is happening in real life, and perhaps I'm not as capable of adapting to all these changes as I might once have been. The current financial crisis necessitating all these belt-tightening fiscal measures makes me wonder if I've spent too much too quickly in recent months. I was counting on a year-end bonus to boost my bank balance to a more reassuring level, but that's not going to happen in this current atmosphere of pay cuts and other more drastic cost saving methods.

Still, as long as I have a job, money can be earned back. And I don't owe anyone any money that urgently needs repaying. That is to say, my installment plans are still manageable, so perhaps what I'm worried about is the lack of excess, resources set aside for a rainy day, mad money to throw away on frivolous expenses.

Still, it's a new lifestyle to adapt to, having to think twice about needs and wants. Learning to forego when we're so used to buying on impulse; making do with what works rather than trashing it for the sake of an upgrade; squeezing every last bit of value from every cent we spend; and making sure we do our jobs well so that what we demand of others we deliver to them as well in return; that's how we're going to ride out this long winter of discontent. Financially speaking, anyway.

Die, monkey, die!

I've been holding this back, waiting for just the right time. And that time is now! To celebrate one big monkey off my back, let's all sing the "Hut Sut" Song!

Getting upset with the casino

Meant to put up this link since NBS and I were discussing something like it this morning. It's called, "A Visual Guide to the Financial Crisis".

And no, in our discussion we weren't particularly sympathetic with the so-called "investors" who lost money on their "investments" in High Notes and their ilk. To us, those guys being so upset and demanding compensation from the bank is like losing money at the craps table and getting upset with the casino.

Sigh. Our people are so sheltered and mollycoddled that they have lost sight of reality. Everyone expects the profits to keep rolling in, but when it's time to shoulder the risk, it's always someone else's fault.

Survivor

Look at that! Yummy, tempting pack of Oreo cookies just waiting to be dunked into an icy cold glass of milk; luscious cream begging to be oh, so gently teased out with a tongue tip tracing the gap between the twin halves of the delicate, crumbly, brown cookie sandwich. What a treat!

Then, consider that this package has been sitting on my dining table overnight already, fully exposed and accessible to the hungry cats marauding through my house. Consider the pristine condition of the package, with nary a puncture mark anywhere on it's surface. No edible material has survived five minutes of unsupervised time with the cats around, yet this brave little blue pack has already survived 24 hours and still counting.

Could it be that Oreos aren't actually food?

Where to find the cats

While the unpacking proceeds, the house may be liveable but still in an unsightly condition. The process is slow and painful, and it may yet be several more days before we throw up our hands in exasperation and decide to trash everything that we haven't yet found a place to store, stow, or conceal.

Then there are the cats who are beginning to adjust to their new environment. One coping mechanism is having a hidey-hole to bolt to when another stranger walks in to make some funny loud noises with smelly machines. Happened to catch the three cats together this one time. Must be playing 'sardines'.

Volunteer job: library courier

A morning with lots of books. First, the second phase of Project Deliver-Me, in which volunteers such as myself take library books over to the residences of disabled people and collect the books they are done with.

I got a different recipient from the two I selected books for from last week. Just so happens, she lives around the corner from campus. Probably a polio victim, roughly my age (hence you are to infer "not too old"), warm and interesting... someone I might not have minded spending an afternoon with, if she didn't seem like she was busy.

Instead, I just did my job -- deliver, collect, sign here, sign there, "thanks ma'am, my pleasure, ma'am!" The expediency at which I picked up my bag of to-be-returned books and walked down the 6 stories -- as she had directed me to -- back to M2 sorta' felt like I was running away from her, though that was not my intention. I also get the feeling she had played some kind of joke on me, making me walk down stairs while she had to get by on crutches... ironic and subtle, very subtle.

While at the library, I borrowed a couple of other books -- play scripts just to see what possibilities there might be for next year's Drama Night. Also bought another couple of books, one on ethics and the other on systems. Oddly, I don't seem to care too much about fiction any more. Maybe I prefer watching it to reading it these days. Oh, well.

Training continues

When was the last time I went bowling? Seems like forever since the Boyz fell flat on our collective faces and imploded. And no, I'm not interested in a revival tour. Let dead dogs lie, as they say.

Doesn't mean I can't keep up the training, though. Happy to say that rusty as I am, I hit the lanes today and still did pretty ok. Six game average 165 including a high 213, low of 130. Funny that the only time I break 199 is after a long break, then I settle back to my usual game.

Sigh, no consistency. Still gonna have to keep my day job for a while yet. Heh.

She'll chew your ear off

I have sound from both speakers when I use the DVD and FM receiver, but I only get a mono channel when I use the cable TV set-top box. I've checked all the connections and everything's fine. I re-checked the settings on all equipment, and everything is as per manual recommendations. Still, I only get sound from the Left side when I watch cable. Odd.

Asked our electrician, Ben, to have a look at the system and see what he could make of it. It wasn't immediate, but he spotted the one thing I overlooked: the stereo cables themselves... almost chewed through by itchy feline teeth!

Should have known. Same thing happened when the washing machine sprang a leak due to a drainage hosepipe that someone had turned into emmenthal cheese, and I know who it is.

There is a gremlin loose in the house, and its name is MOMO!

Peevish

Not been feeling particularly sociable lately. My grouchy, irritable state has rendered me all the more monosyllabic in my responses to others. Somehow, I just feel that everybody is talking to me only to tell me to do this and do that; nothing but instructions and imperatives, reminders, memos and decrees. I've had quite about enough of it.

Fortunately, this week I get to dictate my own time. For the next few days, unless anyone has anything interesting to talk to me about, get lost!

Perhaps a few days of silence will improve my mood :(

Books to go

What a week! Between official assessment duties in the morning and cleaning/unpacking/installing duties at night, I feel like I've been running without stop. And looking at the mountain range of -- things -- that's currently occupying my guest room, it doesn't look any better for next week either.

But I did get a little break today, as a volunteer selecting and then delivering books to the disabled. Today was the selecting of books phase, so armed with my recipients' list of book preferences, I gaily happily parked myself at the arts and crafts section picking out books on crocheting and knitting, and attempting very hard to imagine which titles would fascinate them the most.

Based on their topical choices, I guessed that they would have been little old ladies who probably wanted to express themselves creatively. But I didn't want the books to be so simple as to be insulting, yet I didn't want anything too difficult either so that they would get bored and perhaps try to find other ways of expressing themselves creatively with knitting needles.

There were also other considerations like, I wanted to get something uplifting, but I didn't want them to think I thought they needed uplifting. I wanted to get something humorous, but I didn't want them to think I was making light of their situation...

It's kinda' like the decisions the media corporations have to make selecting the media content that would appeal to the widest audience. Like them, I chose the blandest sounding titles which were the least likely to offend anyone, although I did take a chance on on of the old girls by selecting for her Jeph Loeb's "Blue", one of the best Spider-Man stories I've read focusing on a tragic tale of a romance cut short in between trading punches with an assortment of costumed bad guys. Well, she did include 'Romance' and 'Short stories' on her list...!

We'll get the books delivered to them next week, so I will only know if I'm going to get the books chucked back at my head, of if I'm going to be offered a cuppa and a nice chat then.

In the meantime, through all the gripes, grumbles, whines and tantrums, I finally have a house to live in. We brought the cats back from Dom's, so the whole family is back together again! The unpacking will still go on for some time, but our place is an operational domicile at last!

Down to the minor details

Things seem to have come to a standstill with the renos. All the heavy, noisy work is complete but now comes the perod where we have to deal with all kinds of minor issues -- the fine tuning. Small faults like overlooked unpainted bits, the tracing down of the source of the electrical trip, small fixtures that still need to be installed, that sort of thing. And until we're absolutely sure another bunch of tradesmen won't come knocking on our door, we can't really say we've moved in yet.

And the unpacking! Everything we hastily threw into our packing crates now have to be organized back into their permanent places in the new house, and that's still going to take a while yet. Meantime, there're boxes everywhere with their contents spilling out while we figure what's what and what goes where.

Hope to get my home back by the weekend...

Still homeless and roughin' it

Perhaps too optimistic about being able to move in to the new place by last Friday. There're still various workmen buzzing around getting this and that done, and the nightmare of being temporarily homeless seems to be extending interminably. It's even worse for the cats since we're projecting that they can't come home till about Thursday, when we've finally been able to cat-proof ourselves sufficiently to accept them back with us.

Meantime, we're still squatting at M-i-L's, and Q-tip is starting to become accustomed to the new routine of life here. That's not a bad proposition, really, because there's a chance we can put here here in future while we go out to work and collect her when we come home in the evening. She'll be cared for and given regular walkies, like a doggie day-care. The cats can look after themselves.

Took the kids to watch "Avenue Q" today. I'm planning to watch it again with June closer to the end of the run, so I'll review it another time.


Also, congrats to Sha who tied the knot this evening. A relaxed and easy affair at the Fort Canning Centre. A loosely Bollywood theme complete with a troupe of energetic Bhangra dancers who wowed us with some tandem spinning manouvres that were quite risky for the tight space they performed in.

All-you-can-eat briyani and naan to go with a spicy variety of curried meats. I focused on the mutton -- lovely flavour and have eaten myself silly. Burp!

Settling in

Refugee reporting in from the homeless shelter. New owners have taken over the old place, new place so close to completion, but not in any habitable condition yet. Cats are totally upset, but they're spending the next couple of nights at a pet hotel (a.k.a. pet shop) while we and Q-tip are bunking in at M-i-L's. Just another day more...

Been checking out the neighbourhood in the meantime. It's only a seven minute walk to the mall, so I went whole hog and did the urbanite thing by getting a new book for the bookshelf (Gaiman's latest, "The Graveyard Book"), and reading it at the Coffee Bean while sipping a regular Black Forest ice blended. I got my watch battery changed, browsed the latest PC game releases and made inquiries about a possible HD upgrade at Starhub. Checked out the cinema on the top floor, and decided there wasn't anything worth watching this week. 

Looks like everything I might need and want is here within easy reach, plus the walk there and back should help burn off some calories while I'm at it.

Look out, sleepy backwater town, your new neighbour has arrived!

Too easy credit

June's cheques are bouncing, and that's odd because there's sufficient funds in her account, but no money is being withdrawn at all. There are no mistakes in the cheques that have been returned either, so that deepens the mystery.

When she called the bank, this is what she discovered: The cheques she was using came from a new chequebook the bank had thoughtfully sent over. However, the cheques in this book were not being drawn from her bank account, they were for a credit facility called "Cashline" which June did NOT sign up for.

Cashline acts like a credit card, except in cheque form, and the cheques June has been signing for our contractors have mostly been above the facility's credit limit, hence the bouncing. However, some of the smaller cheques did clear and, holy #%$@, there's a daily rated interest that accompanies each cleared cheque. That's so unecessary for us since we're paying everything by cash (no wonder we're so broke) and hence there is no need for us to incur any interest charge whatsoever.

Fortunately for us, the bank waived all interest charges after June kicked up A Big Fuss over how the chequbook so conveniently appeared with no proper explanation -- or even differentiation from normal bank account chequebooks -- for its use.

Banks can be too proactive with their services to their customers. Automatic approval is not always a good thing, especially when they approve things they don't inform us of beforehand. So BEWARE when receiving chequebooks in the mail. Check the account number very carefully, and make sure it tallies with an account you are familiar with, before using.

Current status of June's Cashline chequebook: shredded and burned, existing only as a carbon emmission polluting the upper atmosphere.

Thank you for the music

There isn't much music that can truly be described as "evergreen", but if anyone deserves the appellation, ABBA does. ABBA may be a guilty pleasure to listen to now, but their brand of disco was mostly fun and baggage free, and their simple tunes and catchy beats give them extra, if unintended, longevity at the KTV lounge.

ABBA music is easy for anyone to identify with, because underneath all the fluff it captures a full range of emotions that are part and parcel of people's experiences through the many different levels of relationships they have with one another. And Mamma Mia proves that ABBA music really has something for everyone.

Mamma Mia (a.k.a. "My Big Fat Greek ABBA Wedding") essentially depicts a reunion of old friends who have not seen each other for the last 20 years. It is the wedding that brings them back together, and it becomes an opportunity to confront the secrets and issues that drove them apart all those long years ago.

Apart from exploring estranged relationships, the movie also celebrates the rock-solid friendships that have stood the test of time. It is a kind of tightness that the many years of separation cannot wear away. Old friends picking up where they had left off, each having grown in experience doing different things, yet when coming together it's like no time at all between them.

60 is indeed the new 20. The energy output of the main cast fronted by Streep and Brosnan in their dance, and all the running around they do show the great shape they're in. A generation or so ago, 60 was sagely and settled, yet these guys are still chasing dreams and are still looking for "the one". Yay for youth and life even as we grey!

As for the dance sequences, although mass dance plays a big part it isn't quite as Bollywood as some people might have described. If anything, it is both a tribute to and a parody of the Bollywood style in the simplicity of the movements and its occasional silliness (check out the "Lay all your love on me" sequence).

And through it all, ABBA music supports the action. There are a few liberties taken with the lyrics to fit the scene (even then the "Winner takes it all" sequence didn't quite make sense), but generally ABBA writes in a very conversational style such that the songs blend in easily with the spoken script. And yet, the lyrics convey a powerful emotive force, from being young and in love, to being heartbroken, to wisps of nostalgia in watching a child grow up and away.

I suppose for me, Mamma Mia gives me a little hope as I age too. I've never done anything wild and crazy, never done anything I might regret, never been a rebel and explored my own hopes and dreams (can't even remember what they were any more), but with an ABBA anthem in my 'pod and a reasonably healthy bod, I have been assured that it is never too late.

Right to die, not left to die

Would it be a good idea to legalize euthanasia* like today's ST suggests? The process sounds so easy:

"Say you are dying of an illness and your doctor pronounces that you have no more than three months to live. Worried that your last days will be racked with unbearable pain, you ask to die.

Two doctors certify that you are of sound mind and have made the request voluntarily. They administer you with a drug overdose. Several minutes later, you are dead."

That could be the problem. If it sounds too easy, it could be too easy. Do we really want life -- anyone's life -- to end so easily?

Perhaps I'm in no position to judge at this time, but I think that the right to die should be fought for and won, rather than being freely given by the sagely nods of two doctors' heads.

We fight for everything else in life, the right to be free, the right to live, the right to be independent, the right to acquire resources, and after having fought for all that to throw everything away to excercise the right to die seems rather like a waste of everybody's time and effort to win it all in the first place.

I'm not unsympathetic to the plight of the terminally ill. I'm ok with having a process in place that will ultimately get someone what they want. I'm just saying the process shouldn't be too easy (or as easy as what ST described).

Let's go case-by-case. Wanna die badly enough? Then prove how badly you want it: fight for your right to die, win it, then die with some real pride. Who knows? The process itself could be so arduous it might actually kill you, but that's what you wanted in the first place, isn't it? Sounds like win-win to me.

*full story requires subscription

Floored and comatose

Isn't it that the older we get the less sleep we need? So why is it that this week my sleep habits are completely in disarray? Uncharacteristically, my brain has been shutting down earlier in the night than usual, on average at around 2200, and I've more often than not just fallen asleep wherever I am -- usually the nice, comfortable floor. Can't beat that back support!

Hence, I realize, no posts this week. I've been making short, almost daily updates on my t-blog with pix of the renos at the new place. Making pithy small talk with fellow homemakers has been fun, but that's about the intellectual capacity I've been able to muster these last few days.