Don't cry for me, Sergeant Tina

One day, I ran off to join the circus and when I came back, part of the circus came back with me. Back then, I was young, energetic and didn't know what I wanted; but I knew what I didn't want: to live according to the usual cycle of drudgery that everyone else seemed destined to live.

What I had to offer was mime. Learning the discipline as a church activity, occasionally taking it out onto the streets (it helped me establish some common ground with my more hellfire-and-brimstone bent brethren), and later honing the craft in an undergrad elective course, it became a crucial aspect in getting my early life back on track again. Through mime, I learned that I didn't have to be good at everything -- I just had to be good in one thing, and then everything else will fall into place around that thing. That thing for me just happened to be mime.

So when I joined the circus, you could have called me a practiced hand already. I joined on a whim, because I knew someone who knew someone who was holding free after-hours classes. I needed the exercise and an excuse to maintain my muscle memory and because working the arts scene was... a different life, here in S'pore almost two decades ago.

Where there is a circus, there is a ringmaster. Tina held centre-ring for us in Mime Unlimited. Beyond the exercises and skills training which she led us in, she encouraged all of us to train each other with what we ourselves had learned from whatever our backgrounds were. We threw in a little yoga, Pilates, Alexander, and later on some of us learned ever more exotic techniques of movement theatre and passed them on to our pool of performers.

Our pool comprised many, like myself who had full-time jobs by day but found time to train, rehearse and perform whenever we could; while many others joined the local professional theatre scene in one capacity or another in time. You could say that Tina clearly had a personal hand in shaping theatre in S'pore with so many current professionals having either trained under her or worked with her at some point in their careers.

So although I joined her merry little band of itinerant mimes with some skillz, Tina opened my eyes to the production aspect of theatre. Working with her on a number of productions showed me that the magic of theatre rested on the hard work of every crew, every talent, every hand working together, coordinated, organized and tick-tock, and yet being prepared for the unexpected because every show is not like any other. Some of us would give 110% to the production, which was great, but Tina could also find a use for those who could only give 20% as long as they gave 100% of their 20%. That kind of welcome valued every contribution and made everyone involved proud to be in the production.

Apart from working on the 'now' of producing shows, she was also very interested in preparing for the future. She played a big part in Drama Education. In the early days, we took shows into the schools. Later we started training school-based drama CCAs and helping them produce their own productions... and that's about the time I left the circus and brought it with me to my current place of employment where I'm doing all I can to carry on what Tina started in building into a new generation a love for theatre, whether as audience members or as contributors in one way or another... or at the very least, to give kids who might never have an opportunity to have a taste of what magic theatre has to offer once, even if they never go back to it again.

And now with Tina's sudden passing, the whole of our country's theatre and arts industry is going to feel the enormity of the vacuum she's left behind. We'll go into a period of shock and sadness for a while. But if Tina's done her job like I know she has, she's already trained a fantastic group of people and influenced many others in such a positive way that we're going to pick up the torch she's been holding up for us all this time and continue running in her place because it's now really our torch to carry.

I'd say this little island owes much more the this crazy American lady (who became as S'porean as any of us) that many of its inhabitants will ever know. Director, teacher, mentor, friend... and in many ways the indirect influence behind many things that have gone right in my life whether she knows it or not, at least this little islander does.

Till we meet again, peace out, Tina!

Sick as a dog

It's sad that although you feel as sick as a dog, it turns out that the dog is actually sicker than you. While I'm down with the flu (I've been fighting it since before CNY, so no wisecracks about scoffing too much bak kwa), Q-tip's health has been deteriorating over the long weekend.

Although not the most active of dogs to begin with, she's losing strength in her hind legs and is no longer walking properly. She can barely even stand up. In the last couple of days, she's been rejecting food and has developed bedsores where her elbows would be if she were human.

Brought her in to see Kasey this evening. Blood test shows signs of infection and kidney dysfunction. Heart weak. We decided to temporarily hospitalize her hoping that with some professional assistance she will take in fluids and food again. Only then will we be able to see how we can medicate or otherwise care for her in the near future and, hopefully, beyond.

Old grandmaster story

The next winning kung fu movie formula from HK will have to be an Ip Man vs Wong Fei Hong epic. The Ip Man story has been told too many times already and it's time to let the imagination do what it will with the characters left behind by these two martial arts greats -- the latter having been forgotten for quite a while and could be begging for a resurrection anytime soon.

In The Grandmaster, Wong Kar Wai's retelling of the Ip Man story, the intention seems more to document than dramatize the major events in Master Ip's life. The lead character, played by Stony Leung, carries the same stoic, long-suffering face throughout the movie. Not sure what he has to suffer since his wife, Gong Er (Zhang Ziyi), does the major fighting for lost family honour and such while he goes about sampling the skills of the other fighting schools he is neighbours with.

I suppose any lesser man would be pissed that his wife left him to go fight another man to the death, but not Ip Man. His face says 'a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do' and on the odd occasions that he meets up with her again their interaction remains politely cordial, though I suppose the audience is probably meant to assume that the poor man is all torn up inside. Really.

The cinematography is just beautiful, with lots of slow-mo water splash; drip; ripple and reflect effects. The fight scenes are stunningly choreographed with lots of precision moves in both many-on-one and one-one-one battles, though often the killing blows happen so quickly we miss them completely and next thing you know, someone's dead or dying for no apparent reason.

Dialogue is poetic. Something like, 'That bread in your hand is the entire world to me' could mean 'You've already lost, but you don't know it yet'  Or, 'The night is dark, but the nightingale sings through till sunrise' could mean, 'I'm a'gonna rip your face off!' (not actual quoted dialogue, but just to illustrate the point). Sometimes, you wish they would talk like normal people.

There were Hollywood influences to a couple of scenes: the disciple banishment scene from Kung Fu Panda, and Spidey vs Sandman vs speeding train scene in Spider-Man 3... or maybe I was desperately looking for identifiable points of reference to keep from losing the coherence of the plotline, which was confusing with all the flashbacks and flash-forwards and long periods of nothing happening. That kind of story-telling needs a deft hand, and this one was no Cloud Atlas.

Perhaps I had my expectations too high for thinking a kung fu fest to be all action, but I was somewhat disappointed to get a philosophical commentary on the nature of mastery instead (which, I grant, IS an important learning point... but it just wasn't what I was looking for here). In my book, this movie rates four Zs.

Omakase and Coke

Oh, yes. Been looking forward to chomping down on an Omakase burger since I read the review on Yahoo! Was also intrigued by this other unique selling point: Coke imported from Mexico (above), supposedly made with natural cane sugar and comes in a nostalgic glass bottle. Dunno, maybe this old palate is losing it's sensitivity, but other than going down a bit smoother (less 'dry', as I was explaining to Elim) it didn't taste that much different from the local variety. It's good for bragging rights, as in "I drank stuff Mexicans are drinking -- Arriba!", and for the novelty, but not much else.

But this is what I'm here for: the deluxe burger, meaning everything including cheese, onions, and 'shrooms. Actually, I meant the Ultimate which would have included bacon as well, but I had a slip of tongue at the counter so a deluxe it was. Served medium, it had a fresh beefy taste -- nothing like filling your mouth with juicy chunks of cow -- soft and tender, grilled evenly with no crispy burnt bits around the edges. Mmm...oo! On the left is a cupful of accompanying truffle fries. Cooked with truffle oil, the crispy outside, fluffy inside fries had an subtle flavouring of mushroom (a rather crude description, but I don't have the vocabulary for a flavour like this) that was as delicious and it was addictive.

Altogether, the set cost a little over $25, which some people would say is expensive for the size of the burger. But quantity isn't everything. It's a reasonably filling meal already, but you're paying for a quality food that sings in your mouth. It won't be an everyday affair, obviously, but it's a great place to go with yo' homies when the occasion calls for it -- and when you can round enough of 'em up to make the trip worthwhile.

Thing of beauty

Just when we think we've seen everything El Cantina has to offer, Mak Cik surprises us with her latest creation: Nasi Pattaya. That's fried rice wrapped in a skin of thinly fried omelette and covered over with lashings of ketchup and mayo -- and what a thing of beauty it is.

Here's hoping this volley over the bows of the other stallholders is just the start of a total gastronomic revolution... or maybe we can just keep hoping.

In other news, it looks like fairy rings (or are they crop circles?) are starting to bloom on the Astroturf. Better go wake the groundskeeper again.

Oh my, lo and behold! It's back!

The sight of this venerable, iconic truck makes me happy. It contains so much promise of cold, chocolatey liquid refreshment, and it's not disappointed me yet. The rumours were going around that this old Milo van had been retired. Glad to know it's still serving icy beverages instead of dry, dusty mothballs.

TV withdrawal

Been without a TV for more than two weeks already. Not that I've been trying to prevent further brain-rot, but that since the Hitachi conked out, we've been going through the process of shopping around for a new one at a price we are comfortable with.

The Hitachi we sold off for $20 to the friendly neighbourhood karang guni man (a.k.a., the itinerant scrap dealer) -- although he wouldn't have taken it at all if we hadn't also saved the stand it came with. Apparently, people in Indonesia who buy their consumer electronics second-hand don't mount their TVs to their walls. Go figure.

Anyway, that was two weeks ago. Finally, this arrived:

That was yesterday.

Today, the new TV is still in the box. While the delivery went without a hitch, it seems somebody (i.e., our dealer) neglected to arrange for the human resource to do the wall mounting for us. Next available date: Monday, late afternoon shift.

And so... we continue to wait.

Greater plans are afoot

While the Population White Paper announcing plans to cater to a 6.9 million population by 2030 has riled heartland sentiments, there is one other Masterplan that is slowly but surely being realized, but remains undisclosed for the moment. This unannounced Masterplan will kick in if the vast majority of S'poreans are so adamant against population growth that the proposed population projection becomes politically unpalatable.

What Masterplan? Haven't you noticed all the extensions to the MRT lines that are coincidentally going to continue all the way to 2030? All that tunneling going on under our feet is designed to undermine our bedrock foundations so much that at a push of a button, a small chain of explosions will detach the island from the Asian continent altogether. Prevailing winds and ocean currents will then shift us entirely into the Pacific Ocean where at a precise location that is equidistant from any major landfall, we will anchor and live our lives happily away from the rest of the world.

Our island is so small that no one would bother to visit us all the way out there. We have nothing to offer them, anyway, apart from maybe our heavenly chilli crabs -- if we could gather a decent enough harvest from the ocean bottom. Likewise, we could all subsist reasonably long and healthily, feasting on all the vegetables we can grow in our hydroponic rooftop farms.

No pressure of competition, we can all put up our feet and relax while watching the sun set over the horizon, once we're done tending to our veggie crops in the morning. The kids can play all day, though they might occasionally have to help out carrying seed bags and take turns running on the hamster-wheel powering the desalination plant that provides us with fresh drinking water every day.

Life couldn't be more idyllic. No one would miss us and while the rest of the world can rain nuclear apocalypse upon themselves, we'll be safe in the middle of the ocean. If we play our cards right, when all is said and done, we could be the only remaining survivors left on planet Earth. When that happens, we would have achieved World Conquest -- thus finally fulfilling our National Aspiration to be the only people on the planet that matter! *waves S'pore flag enthusiastically while National Anthem plays rousingly in the background*

Remember, patriotic S'poreans say 'NO!' to 6.9 million population.

Secret Masterplan proposed by Global Domination White Paper.

Sock it to 'em!

NYeDC takes a stab at basic puppetry. It's good to have Sirius back for another season taking the kids in hand -- and getting their hands in socks. Who knows? Maybe we can offer the CNY cultural showcase a skit involving slithery sock serpents in honour of the upcoming Year of the Snake. Then again, maybe not. They are still a tad rough.

There's a machine for that?

Can such things be? This here is an electric kueh buloh making machine. Judging by the design and gaudy paintjob, it's been in M-i-L's possession since the '70s. But I think June wants to follow the more traditional way of baking what I guess is the local equivalent of the humble madeline... though for the moment, she's shifted her attention to baking cupcakes.

A little perspective

Featuring news appearing on the very same day:

Govt has to speed up on bread-and-butter solutions (ST Forum Letters)

Do more to stop eating, drinking in buses (ST Forum Letters)

These links represent the voice of People Power in S'pore.

Egypt protester: "There is no bread, no freedom" (CBS Evening News)

representing the voice of People Power elsewhere.

Banishing happiness from the classroom

After a round of assignment grading, I've had an epiphany about why the kids sound so flat, dispirited and naive in their written work. The kind of answers they were giving me was equivalent to typical teenspeak: "How was your day?" "Fine." "How was school?" "Good." In an exercise that required the kids to explore problems, issues and concerns, the kids were killing off the discussion like they didn't really want to talk about it. It was like they were faking a veneer of happiness as if appearing unhappy was abnormal behaviour.

As education workers, we generally like happy children. They are easier to control in class as they tend to be more compliant with what we tell them. Anytime we notice a child is unhappy, alarm bells ring. We take it on ourselves to "get to the root of the problem" and punish, counsel or medicate their unhappiness away so that they can return to a state of compliance and be like everybody else again. Our assumption is that happy is normal, unhappy needs to be dealt with -- severely, in some cases.

I think we're forgetting something. The happy student has the least incentive to learn anything new. It's the unhappy student who stands to gain more from learning than the contented one. Happy students are resistant to learning because new ideas rock the boat they're already comfortable in. Unhappy students learn because of the opportunity learning offers to change their circumstances for the better.

These days, our efforts in school are geared towards making our students as happy as possible. At home, too, parents want their kids to be happy and will do everything they can to make it so. We simply give them too much: resources, equipment, information. The kids themselves have to be feeling that with so much going on around them to make them happy, they should be happy -- but they're not. And if they're not, something must be wrong with them. So they pretend... and then they turn in essays that we'd prefer to burn than grade.

New rule for my classes: My students have to be angry; upset; disappointed; frustrated; worried; scared; and bring all their negativity into the classroom. The happy student is complacent, useless and a non-contributor and has no place in my class.

I don't have to make them unhappy, I know they already are. My class wlll be noisy with kids sounding off their gripes, grouses and rants. I'm not going to pretend that I have a solution to their troubles. That's not my job. My subject being GP, I teach them to observe, organize, evaluate and recommend approaches to deal with their own problems so that they have something useful to learn.

However, last thing I want is to dictate what they should think. I don't want them to approach their questions by trying to recall how Mr X answered a similar question previously; what argument structure he applied; what his conclusions were... Their problems, their approaches, their solutions, not mine.

... and a little something more. An Ingredient X that I will be experimenting with in subsequent classes. I'll let you know how that turns out once I get some data to reflect upon. Stay tuned.

Visiting our neighbour in the North

This meal marks the accomplishment of something I swore I'd never do. I'll give you a hint: this is a shake tempura mayo bento from a restaurant called Kinsahi... located at the AEON Tebrau City. I drove up to JB.

And back. I'm still alive; my possessions and loved ones are still intact; and my car's GPS unit isn't being tracked by the authorities from two or more sovereign States. Let's call that a step beyond my comfort zone, shall we? Though by now it's quite clear that anywhere outside the confines of my cosy living-room bean bag is beyond my comfort zone.

It helped that we went north in a two-car convoy led by Tong, who is more experienced with the checkpoint procedures and road conditions of our neighbour in the North. We kept in touch on the road by walkie-talkie and no one got lost. In fact, the drive, once we got clear of the inevitable traffic congestion around the causeway area, was smooth and even pleasant. As a precaution, my GPS was active and though I was mostly following Tong, it did not steer me in the wrong direction.

On this trip, the closest thing I experienced to danger was when I'd returned to the causeway after a moderately successful shopping trip. There was a long line waiting to be processed by Malaysian Immigration and I was getting bored and sleepy. I closed my eyes for a second, and for a brief moment, I was transported out of the present into someplace that wasn't "here" and a time that wasn't "now". That's the danger of micro-sleep. I opened my eyes to June's screeching and frantic waving of arms as she sat in the shotgun seat. I'd taken my foot off the brake and was advancing towards the waiting vehicle in front of me. Jamming my foot down, I stopped just before contact. No harm done but, darn, what a scare!

Would I drive back up there again? Now that I've broken the taboo the first time, subsequent trips are conceivable. But there must be a real good reason. Though bigger, a shopping mall there is still just a shopping mall.

Kueh buloh: pre-baking prep

CNY is just around the corner and June's itching to try out a new recipe. These here are aluminium kueh buloh moulds for oven baking. We got them from a kitchen supply store on Joo Chiat Road, towards the Geylang Serai end.

The talkative auntie at the cash register advised us on how to prepare the moulds before baking in order to avoid the little cakelets getting stuck in them:

1) Do NOT wash the moulds first thing you get home. Instead, coat them all over with cooking oil.

2) Baked the oiled-up moulds for about a half-hour in a gas oven, or an hour in an electric oven.

3) Pour away the excess oil and set aside to cool to room temperature.

4) Lightly wash the moulds just before you're ready to fill them with the kueh buloh batter.

Alternatively,

4) If you're not ready to bake kueh buloh immediately, don't wash the moulds but rather wrap them in newspaper and store until you do want to use them.

Oh, you want the recipe? Sorry, no idea about that.

Edit 01:
pre-bake prep didn't actually work 100%. June's experiments eventually resulted in her temporarily giving up and baking cupcakes with the remaining batter instead. Still a few kinks left to figure out, but there's still time. No pressure.

After the final pitches in Punggol East

If I had to go to the polls this Saturday to vote a new representative into parliament, what would my options be?

First, I'd have to consider my position in life: I'm decently happy, possibly to the point of being complacently so. Married; have something of a family and a job that pays a fair wage for a fair day's work. My living conditions are comfortable, while the neighbourhood is still developing. It's not particularly upscale, but it's not exactly a slum either. It's a position I'd like to keep for a long time to come.

After tonight's final rallies, my take on the candidates is as follows:

The green guy who's aiming for a job that requires him to talk in parliament can barely make himself understood talking online. He has no discernible platform beyond wanting to be in parliament and on my behalf run interference on crucial matters that require a decision because that's what an Opposition does, thus proving that Opposition unity is possible. Mr Logical, himself.

The yellow guy alienates everyone the moment he opens his mouth. It's not his grating colonial accent but his air of superiority that tends to rub the wrong way. For a person who claims he can out-debate the PM should he ever have the opportunity, it's puzzling that he would deliver his last speech -- haltingly -- reading his script word-for-word, which he had prepared on his smartphone. Maybe he should not have forgotten to bring his reading glasses.

It's really down to the last two candidates who deserve more serious consideration.

The blue lady represents a party that has been building credibility of late. It's a party that's been increasing its vote share over two consecutive national election campaigns because it promises to do in parliament what many people would love to do personally, but would get arrested if they tried: slap the decision-makers for making stupid decisions, "stupid" being a relative term: if the decision was not for an option mooted by the blues, it's probably stupid and deserves a slap.

The new white guy isn't above hamming it up for the camera and making some incredibly dumb assumptions about private transport ownership during televised interviews. A touchy subject, considering he owns two and so many other people own one less than he thinks.

At this point, neither looks like a viable choice. Let's now examine the blue vs white campaign strategy to see if there's anything there that could sway my vote.

While blue lady raises important issues that many people are concerned and even angry about, as a (hypothetical) voter in a by-election I feel that she's addressing the wrong crowd. For all the rhetoric she raises on behalf of stay-at-home-parents and single parents, just how many of such people actually make up the electorate in Punggol East constituency? In a national election, perhaps such issues might make a difference, but as an average HDB dweller, I'd rather have assurances that my neighbourhood will be well taken care of. Blue lady assures us that as soon as she's elected, she'll take over the town council expediently... but that's it. She has more important issues to consider, issues of national importance, so I should just go home and suck it up. Gee, thanks.

The white guy, oddly enough, has the smart game plan for once. He knows his audience. He's talking about things I want to hear about: literally concrete issues like maintaining the upkeep and the upgrading of the neighbourhood where I live in and getting the mall fixed up. In a by-election with only one seat being contested for, I know voting in a non-majority candidate will make absolutely no difference to the party proportions in parliament. I'm not going to sacrifice the next 3-4 years of development of my constituency (and my property value) for a symbolic political principle. Plus, unlike the other guys and gal whose language sounds imperative and commanding -- vote me in 'cos I know what's good for you -- white guy is offering a hand in partnership and is saying let's work together.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's all campaign blather, but in the end we have to trust that what comes out of the mouth originates from the heart.

Edit 01:
The election results are in. It's an odd feeling to see that what I thought was the rational choice was not what the majority decided on. Emotion and feel-good won the day, and perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised. There's been too little of that going around our little island recently. And now that the people are seeing that a bluer Parliament will not usher in the end of the world, it's clear that this blue wave is just starting to pick up momentum. Let's prepare for a more balanced Parliament at the next GE, trusting that head and heart can work together for the benefit of the body. At least the people are still discerning enough to keep the lunatic fringe where it belongs: out there.

Shooting for aces in GP

As I understand my place on the General Paper (GP) team, my little division has been entrusted with helping the kids with higher potential to achieve their aces. That's not a bad thing. Since we have kids with the ability to reach higher, it's both my duty and my pleasure to get them on their way.

Working with higher ability kids, though, requires a different strategy from the average group. I'm not being elitist, but that's the way it is. For the average kid, GP is a test of knowledge. The strategy here is the common approach: pump them full of content; predigest for them template approaches so that they can hopefully identify and plug in the right argument structure and pass with a sigh of relief.

Although knowledge is a prerequisite to a pass, knowledge alone will not ace the GP H1. The presumption about the higher ability kids is that they're better read than their average peers; they have a stronger command of the English language; and they are perhaps more willing to take "riskier" options or approaches to engaging their questions. This bunch knows they have the ability to do better than what their test results are returning, and they are probably frustrated.

So what do we do to help them do better? My take is that we change the rules and objectives of the game for them. At higher levels, GP is no longer about how much knowledge the kid has, so providing them with more material to swallow and regurgitate will not help them increase their grade perceptibly. Instead, we view the GP H1 as a test of mental agility and train this lot of kids to handle questions as if they were completely unexpected situations. So rather than approach the questions from a position of knowledge, they approach the questions from a position of ignorance.

To the average person, to feel ignorant is to be disadvantaged. Embarrassment and panic set in; confidence collapses; and abject surrender becomes a very tempting proposition. However, the problem of a knowledgeable kid approaching a familiar question is the tendency to show off his smarts while disregarding the question. His pride is his fall.

A smart kid who approaches his question humbly is more likely to pay attention to the requirements of the question. With this focus, he can cut out all the noise in his head clamouring to be vocalized on paper and prioritize what knowledge he can bring to bear that is pertinent to what he is being asked -- regardless of 'topic'.

If the kids want their aces, they're going to move up from being mindless footsoldiers wielding blunt cudgels while making loud noises to intimidate the enemy and become quiet, disciplined snipers who can adapt to any environment and boast a hit ratio of one shot, one kill.

Sotto voce: Oh, man! What am I getting myself into?

Today's post was inspired by "Mental agility: how to react quickly to any situation".

How to have more kids

Nope. The Population Dept has got it wrong again. Throwing more money at the problem of a shrinking population, and now endorsing paternity leave as well won't lead to more babies... though it might lead to even less.

It has always been a resource problem. We've always thought of money as being the resource that we lack, but that's not it at all. The scarcity is not in the money but in the children themselves. In truth, there are a lot fewer children than there is money to spread around.

Couples today aim to stop at two, or one, or have none at all. In fact, what is happening is that we are artificially restricting the supply of children. Because children are scarce, they come at a premium. Suddenly the price of having children has skyrocketed. Now we can never save up enough to send our sole little precious to school and see him (or her) grow up with all the luxuries his or her little heart desires. And for some of us, we feel WE don't deserve even one child because we'll never be able to work hard enough to ensure that our child will grow up to live the life HE or SHE deserves.

As my kids in discussion shockingly observed: in the past, respect went to the eldest in the family and trickled down through the hierarchy. However, these days, mommy and daddy have become slaves to their kids. Is it any wonder that we have little desire to serve yet another Pharaoh in our household? We're already slaves to our jobs in the morning and when we do manage to escape home we need a break. Oh, wait, Junior's there. Damn. I'd rather stay at work. At least my boss looks like a boss. Please don't make me take paternity leave! I'm serious!

If we really want to encourage our people to have more kids, we need a mindset change for couples to start having kids indiscriminately. Every household norm should have seven or eight kids whom we can then view as disposable commodities. Multiple redundancy drops the value per kid to near zero. If one kid screws up or dies or something, there's always another to replace the faulty product.

Economies of scale would mean that they all share the same toy, clothes, food, and they don't even have to go to the best schools. That's because whether they study and be educated or not, it's their lives and not my problem. Out of the many, all I need is one good kid -- if I'm so lucky -- and the rest, well, good luck to them. If I work hard, the money goes to me. Conversely, if you don't work hard, don't come crying to me for a handout. The next population campaign should go: Kids aren't precious -- have as many as you like!

When we live in the First World, it's easy to overlook the simplest of solutions which our Third World neighbours are so much wiser to.

What a rush of sugar

All hail Vanellope Von Schweetz, the latest addition to Disney's pantheon of princesses... although her political status as 'princess' is complicated. Also, unlike her pulchritudinous colleagues, Vanellope is not pursuing a male figure to define herself by but rather seeking to come to terms with herself and her flaws that keep her outcast from both her immediate and wider society.

Everyone calls Vanellope a 'glitch', an appellation she accepts as what makes her different from everyone else. In a game world, graphic integrity is a premium so a sprite that occasionally de-rezzes cues the gamer that the game is malfunctioning and should be trashed in favour of a better one.

It's not clear whether Vanellope understands this rationale keeping her from participating in the game her character is designed as an avatar for. All she is told by her fellow racers is that her existence is a mistake and as such, she is not permitted a space on the roster of playable characters.

Secondly, her game world's economic model is such that racers have to ante-up a gold token before racing, and she being outcast has no opportunity to earn tokens and is therefore priced out of her own employment market. In an economy of plenty, she represents the 1% destitute.

What's admirable about Vanellope is that she never loses hope. Although very clear in her mind who she is -- "racing's in my code!" -- her difficulty is in proving it to the other racers. She may have been unscrupulous in acquiring her first gold token and impossibly optimistic in self-building a pedal-operated cart to compete against powered engines, but such optimism in the face of impossible odds makes it easy for the audience to root for the underdog in this race.

The race itself, of course, is only a plot device. While ambition motivates us to do more than we think we can, it's in developing our "softer skills" such as love, friendship, trust, and making up our own minds about what is right and wrong rather than just having our moral sensibilities dictated to us that rounds us out as people instead of being merely 2D sprites fixated on a singular goal: winning at all cost.

What I really like about 'Wreck-it-Ralph' is how tightly the story is guided by its own internal rules and logic:
1) Bad guys (function of external perception based on one's prior actions) are not necessarily bad guys (function of personal character)
2) Sprites automatically respawn in their own game worlds, but are unable to respawn if they 'die' in another game world.
3) 'Pulling the plug' in the real world results in the annihilation of the game world. However, sprites who evacuate the endangered world in time can continue to live in Game Central Station, the nexus connecting all the game worlds in the arcade, though as homeless refugees.
4) Glitches lack the ability to leave their game worlds.
5) Cy-bugs are attracted to and are annihilated by lighted beacon towers. This procedure is necessary to eliminate all Cy-bugs after a game run ends as they are not characters as such but behave as viruses if they ever leave their game world.
6) 'Going Turbo' means to permanently jump a game world, resulting in the glitching of both worlds, the consequence being 'pulling the plug' (3).

By keeping to these rules, the story avoids fluff and arbitrariness, doing away with the need for a deus ex machina to save the day. Every scene and interaction is essential, providing enough exposition to advance the plot, yet not give too much away. They also provide context for the sight gags that come thick and fast; and for credible character and relationship development.

Problem-solving is up to the characters' innovativeness using game mechanics that are already present in their specific game worlds. While Felix has his magic hammer, it's more fun to watch Vanellope and Ralph fix-it themselves with trial-and-error, lots of elbow grease, out-of-the-box thinking, and a sense that if I don't help myself, no one will.

For Vanellope and Ralph, it really is suck it up and "make [their] mommas proud time". And they do.

Stray wars

Dang! Two stray cats living in the multi-story car park were discovered dead this morning. Initially suspected of being poisoned, the case was reported to the police for further investigation. Latest update cites evidence of the killer/s most likely to be dogs, possibly also strays.

I wasn't close to these two cats, but they were familiar. One of the victims was part of a pair that always hung out together; the other a rather anti-social Maui lookalike who lived a short distance from the car park.

Now we are worried for the well-being of the two strays we are rather fond of and who live in the immediate vicinity. But here I'm running up against a moral dilemma. Saving the lives of our stray cats is most likely to mean the culling of a stray dog or two. But I can't see another way out of this situation. One way or another, somebody's day is going to be ruined. :'(

We have a winner!

A cat accurately tracks the ball in the shell game.

A cat picks stock market options more profitably than human experts.

Conclusion: trash your broker. Get a cat.

Application Question confusion

Just because there is a question mark behind a sentence doesn't necessarily make it the main question for the GP Application Question (AQ) component. Too often, our practices default to whether the student agrees with the author/s or not, but this kind of evaluation tends to miss the point of the question altogether.

Take this one from a recent practice session. Given a piece of text about the pros and cons of fashion, the AQ goes:

In this article, Jean Jacquard comments on the importance of fashion to society and how it can be useful, and at the same time, problematic to us.
How far do you agree with his observations on fashion and clothing? Illustrate your answer or own views by referring to the ways in which you and your society regard fashion.

First, the sentence that ends with the question mark is itself a problem. A person's observations are hardly open for dispute. What a guy sees is what he sees so agreement means that you agree that he saw what he saw, whereas disagreement means that you think he didn't see what he thought he saw. Now that's confusing enough without adding the further complication that he is not in a position to see what you see, and vice versa. So if the answer focuses on this question, there's going to be confusion all round, leading to frustration for both assessor and student alike.

If the question mark is an unreliable indicator of the main question, then which one is it? We need to look at the purpose behind the question holistically. If I asked you such a question, I wouldn't care whether you agreed or disagreed with the source, nor your justifications why. What I would want to know is how a new context in your estimation compares against the situation that the source has identified. So the focus is on the new context (in this case, "you and your society"), not on rehashing what the source has already provided.

Another concern is the limited time and space allotted for this question under exam conditions. We need to identify context and parameters really quickly in order to provide a sharply-focused, narrow-band answer rather than a random, broad-based one. The AQ's lead-in or introductory sentence provides the parameters, while the final instructions provide the context. That leaves the sentence that ends with the question mark as merely a stimulus to begin writing.

Below is a link to my treatment of this question, including my highlights of key ideas from the source; my remarks on sticky notes (open the .pdf in Adobe Reader or Acrobat to see them) and my sample answer. Oh, if anyone wants to know if my answer follows a template... yes it does! It's provided by the source. Figure that one out!

Click here.

Welcome and c'mon in!

Campus Open House! We've pulled out all the stops to make our college noisy, lively and -- to some extent -- spontaneous. It was an opportunity to show off our latest attraction: a high-elements confidence course strung across the garden courtyard for brave souls to test the limits of their acrophobia. There was free food and lots of simple booth games with prizes for our visitors; and the performances in the atrium showcasing our aesthetic co-curricula activities.

My initial job was to look after the emcees at the performing venue. My duties include script vetting and rehearsing. That was the easy part. I should have given more attention to rehearsing the unscripted dialogue that inevitably takes place in between items. While the emcees knew that the visitors need lots of information about what's going on, where to go and what to do when they get there, holding the mike and hearing your own voice amplified tends to be very disconcerting and you quickly run out of things to talk about. So cue next item -- at least the script tells us what to say about that.

I realize on hindsight that although the emcees' job appears to be that of introducing items and saying nice things about them (that's the scripted part), in this kind of Open House environment the entertainment is only an excuse for the emcees to pump information to the guests, keeping them constantly updated with what's what.

My secondary job, unfortunately, took some of my attention away from my primary. The atrium, being quite breezy, turned the huge vinyl backdrop into a sail. Though it had been taped down the afternoon before, today the tape kept ripping up and had to be constantly replaced... by yours truly. As I said, not my primary job, but it had to be done out of necessity. Still, I learned the gaffer's trade through experience. By the time the performances were over, with strategic overlapping applications of tape, the backdrop ceased to be a threat to the performing area.

All in all, I'd say we did a reasonable job, though leaving some room for improvement.

The take over

The year has inevitably kicked off. Met the new kids today: fresh faced, eager-eyed, and so quiet... as they suss out the New Teacher. I'm taking over this J2 batch from whomever was tutoring them in J1. It feels very much like I'm testing out my theory that GP doesn't really need two years to master. One should be quite sufficient.

Keep on running

Finally! New running shoes to replace my previous old faithful. This new pair fits well and is light on the feet. While I am happy with the purchase, I'm a little less happy with the sales rep. As he brought the shoes to the cashier, he called out, "Uncle heng (paying)!" Grr... you're not so young yourself, whippersnapper!

I suppose that kind of ageist identification is to be expected. I'd just come in from my grand-niece's first month celebration. The view is from the young family's apartment, 33 floors up. I've never been in a residence that high before. You can see the sea from here, yonder on the horizon.

Back t'work, ye scurvy dog!

When the two highlights of the day are visiting the clinic for flu meds and sending a friend off at the crematorium, it's no wonder I'm feeling lousy today. Can't tell if it's physical because of the illness or emotional because it's a crappy start to the year, or a combination of both. Or maybe lately, I've been having too much time to think. Even though I'm not looking forward to it, going back to work may just be the cure to the post-holiday blues. Oh, the irony.

Ways we've gone and ways to go

If the first day of the new year is any indication of how the rest of the year is going to turn out, it's going to be a bitter-sweet 2013 for me.

Spent the afternoon bowling with extended family. Now, that's something that occurs only once in a very long while 'cos as a group we prefer eating to physical activity. Seeing that the last time we did such a thing was conceivably a couple of decades ago, today we got a true sense of how far we've advanced in our years. Two games apiece and collectively we're creaking in the joints; muscles stretched and tender; stubbed toes and much wounded pride from the number of gutter balls thrown. Not that our scores were very much better twenty years ago, but still...

And like we did back then, we gathered to dine. But tonight's dinner conversation was more polite and focused. We didn't harass the staff like we managed to do before, and we actually got some talk going on a joint tribal vacation. That, we've never done before, but it's a lot more feasible now that we're all working adults with some kind of disposable income. The only question, then, is to coordinate the timing. Hold onto your hats, folks, it may yet happen!

The later part of the evening was more sombre. I've never been to a wake of a friend before, let alone a working colleague. Aggie (later known as Deb) battled cancer over the past couple of years. It finally ended just before the beginning of the new year.

With Aggie's passing, I've lost both my mentors from when I first started teaching. Mim went earlier via an untimely accident. Mim taught me the rules to obey while Aggie taught me to organize and colour-code everything, and something called a "CRAFT" book, which stands for "Can't Remember A F****** Thing" in which I was to write down everything I was supposed to remember but was likely to forget.

I appreciate the lessons these veterans imparted to me. They practiced what they preached. They were ready to teach; effective at their jobs; and their lessons stuck with their kids. They were loved; respected and unforgettable to their students. They were looked up to by their colleagues.

Yet every class has a black sheep (baa!), and this one knows the distance he still has to travel to get to where they left off.

Lost in translation

I really wanted to love Les Miserables, the movie, as much as I do the stage production. But despite some spectacular sets which were unreproduceable onstage such as the jaw-dropping manual dry-docking of the hulking warship in the opening sequence and the colossal barricade of the closing; and the palpable reality of the sewer escape sequence, the experience wasn't as emotionally impactful as it was onstage.

Perhaps some genres don't translate well into others. The script being originally written for stage assumes that most of the audience would not get close enough to the characters to empathize with them as individual people. It is the music that carries the emotion and from a distance therein lies the drama of the musical.

On film, it's quite different. On the 70mm screen, the action is literally in your face. Every tear, every frown, every wrinkle is there for all to see so the delivery has to become more realistic. The irony is that using nuances of spoken delivery takes away something of the emotive potential of the music and so the effect gets watered down.

There is also a problem using recognizable faces in the leading roles. At some point I was expecting Jean Valjean to sprout adamantium claws from his fists and eviscerate his tormentors; Fantine to grow pointy ears and a tail and bi*chslap with a bullwhip the sleazebuckets going after her. That they meekly rolled over and resigned themselves to their fate was mildly disappointing. Big names may help box-office receipts, but it's better to cast iconic roles with performers who themselves have not been cast in other iconic roles else the wrong images are likely to stick and confuse.

It's not that I didn't enjoy the movie, but that this experience is unlikely to be as memorable as the stage version, for me anyway. But at least I didn't have to pay an exorbitant sum for crappy seats in the theatre's nosebleed section for it.

Get a proper job

Bumped into a graduating student. He said that he was considering teaching as a career. I told him to get a proper job first before thinking of teaching.

He asked if the experience was advantageous to his portfolio. I said it's not that. It's because if he wants to teach, he should know first hand what kind of world he'll be sending his students into, what kind of work environment they can expect to face in their future.

No offence, but if teaching was his first job, all he'd know about life was how to pass exams.

This industry needs more second-career teachers. Lots more.

Holiday fatality

Being on vacation over the last week put us out of touch with the news. At last night's Christmas eve dinner, the family alerted us to this tragic news story about a fellow S'porean tourist whose ascent up the very same volcano we had climbed a couple of days before proved fatal. As I read the report, I realized that it could have occurred to either of us too, unfit and unprepared as we were.

While we were both blessed to make it back in one piece, my sympathies are for our fellow countryman who didn't, and his family. At our age, it's time we did a bit more careful research into the items we want to put on our itinerary. And do the necessary prep if we're determined to follow through with our plans.

Geez. That's a cheery Christmas thought.

Bali revisited: Day 6

Our flight home was mildly dramatic. About a quarter into our journey, the captain announced that the plane had developed some fault and we had to turn back to Denpasar where we and our luggage would board a replacement plane. Passenger response was miffed but cooperative. Apart from a few questions regarding the delay causing a few missed connections and other similar concerns, we were generally adopting a 'whatever' attitude. The ground crew was apologetic and tried to explain the situation. They rustled up some mineral water to placate us at the boarding gate to tide us over the hour-plus delay. I was hoping to be compensated with a free night's accommodation in a luxury hotel in Kuta, but it was not to be. Before long, we were winging it back to SIN again... and Christmas eve dinner with the family.

Bali revisited: Day 5

Actually, we're not in Seminyak as we thought. Our villa is in Canggu, yet some distance away. But we've had enough of adventure. We're spending the tail-end of our vacation relaxing; soaking in our private pool (above); shopping and eating commercial food.

At the Adyana Villas and Spa, it's all the comforts of home with a comfy living room; some cable channels and a DVD player.

There's even a dining room and kitchen, if you're inclined to cook. All we've used the dining table for, though, is breakfast, served in the villa itself.

So far, we've been impressed with the friendliness and courtesy of the service staff in Bali, hospitality and retail alike. At the Adnyana, it seems to be a family-run operation. We love the set-up here, but because of the distance to the more touristy districts like Kuta, the traveller might prefer to park here and enjoy the peace and quiet. If you must see the town, the resort offers a free shuttle service to Seminyak, the timings can be made at the front desk or with the driver himself, which is what we've been doing. Otherwise, the very private facilities and with some marketing for your own provisions, it's easy to spend a couple of inactive days here in total bliss and contentment.

Bali revisited: Day 4

We've moved on to Seminyak. It's not quite what we'd expected: thought we'd find a beach here (yes, that's the depth of research we've done) but instead found a strip of little shops catering to the tourist crowd. Since it seemed to be an extension of Kuta Beach, we decided to walk to Kuta Beach... a whole hour-and-a-half on foot. We had a destination in mind: the Forrest Gump-themed Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. which we share good memories of from the last time we were here. Good food, excellent if a tad over-enthusiastic service.

We both went with pasta options, which on their own were impressive. The shrimp is meaty and fresh; the portions generous. But what really made the dishes sing was not on the usual list of ingredients. We asked for sliced fresh chillies, and we were served a saucerful of pale-looking zingers. Awesome!

There's a promotion going on currently: a free house dessert with each main dish ordered. Strawberry shortcake (above) was a bit doughy for my taste but being served a la mode covered a lot of sins. The key lime pie (below) set the benchmark for my quest for the perfect key lime pie. It was smooth and well-balanced between sweet and sour. This is one dessert you don't need much to reach satisfaction with.

Bali revisited: Day 3

A holiday with me isn't complete without a spin on a quad bike. We booked a morning riding tandem on an ATV at Bakas Levi Rafting, which evidently offers more outdoor attractions than rafting. First time using a manual shift but got used to it pretty quickly. Again, prior experience (as in Port Arthur and Chiangmai) didn't make this ride any easier. Though this ride is much shorter, it's more challenging because of the steep gradients and the narrow dirt track bordering a nasty drop into a ravine. The route was simple: one way down, and then back up the way we came. Part of the challenge was to avoid things on the track like butterflies; the odd working elephant; and a gaggle of PRC tourists strolling to their rafting start point. 

Our guide, Jerry, was a jolly, easy-going fellow who knew how to pace our jungle ride. He was close on hand over more difficult terrain, and kept a distance when I got more confident so I could feel the illusion of independence. Though with June riding behind me, safety was always first in my mind, regardless. Being quite experienced with the camera, he was also responsible for many couple shots on this trip which our holiday albums are usually devoid of.

In the afternoon, we trekked the Campuhan Ridge trail. June copied the route directions off TripAdvisor which up to a point were quite accurate.

The trail offers some gorgeous views of the rural countryside. More locals than tourists frequent this area, and for some reason there were a number of high school students clustering along various parts of the trail today. School's out, maybe? Or is today a school holiday? At the end of this nicely paved trail is a number of well-hidden art galleries; a couple of spas and guest houses... and our directions got real hazy after that.

We could have gone back the way we came, but we took the other option suggesting that we make a huge loop back to Ubud central. "Huge" was an understatement. The road took us up and down steep slopes with vehicles whizzing past us and no sidewalk for a buffer. The area we were walking in began looking increasingly rural, and we had no idea what lay in front of us at the end of the road. Turns out we were going the right way, but if we wanted to take this walk, we should have started in the morning. In the end, we hitched a ride with an obliging young man in a Honda Jazz who offered to take us back to civilization for IDR20,000. We gave him 50K as we didn't have anything smaller after we tipped Jerry (above).

We had sate campur at Coco Bistro to celebrate our return. I was quite impressed with the quality of the skewered diced pork; chicken and beef. Served with a plate of plain white rice topped with a sprinkling of fried shallots, smooth peanut paste and a salad of chopped cucumbers; onions and tomatoes, this dish really hit the spot.

But this was treasure for our parched throats. It tasted like sparkling toothpaste, but it was cold and so thirst-quenching, we felt quite assured that were were home from the wilderness at last.

Bali revisited: Day 2

This sunrise view wasn't easy to acquire, especially for the likes of yours truly. Mt Batur was a challenging climb, moreso than we initially thought. After all, we survived the climb up Diamond Head, didn't we? Batur was no Diamond Head. No smooth paths; regular steps with handrails. It was wild, the path was narrow; strewn with rocks; and in parts the gradient was so steep, neither looking up nor down was in the least helpful. Besides all through the climb, it was raining, it was dark, the way lighted only by flashlight.

It turned out that we were ill prepared for the weather. We both had to rent waterproof hooded jackets from the trek guides at IDR50,000 each, having no idea who had worn them and sweated in them before us. We were just grateful to have them. We were also ill-prepared physically for the ascent. Before long,we both were huffing and puffing from the walk... and that was even before the terrain got steep and difficult. I was convinced that at some point, one of us would throw in the towel and collapse and die from exhaustion. Outside, the rain was soaking my rented jacket, inside my t-shirt was soaking with sweat. That bad. 

In the end, it was a game of mind over matter. Of concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and quashing all thoughts of how far more we still had to struggle. The journey had to become more important than the destination. To think of reaching the summit, looking up and seeing the distance and steepness of the path ahead of us was very daunting. Thinking of having to climb back down after reaching the top was a total OMG moment. But if we had our minds on our fluffy, comfy bed back at the Kamandalu, that would have killed us for sure. So step by painful step, up we went. We also took frequent breaks and let others pass us along the path. No deadlines, no hurry. Our guide waited patiently with us and kept encouraging us by accounting how far we've come already and ticking down the distance we had left to cover.

The view (top) was spectacular, but brekkie being all of a couple of slices of plain bread, a hard-boiled egg and a banana... well, this fellow (above) and his mates looked like they needed a meal more than we did. I kept the banana for the potassium I needed to stave off cramps in my sore legs.

The altitude and rain combined to make it feel cold up top, but the crater comprised many small holes emitting natural steam that warmed us up sufficiently as long as we stood close to one.

Needless to say, we survived our ordeal. Climbing down the volcano was way easier than climbing up as we didn't have to fight gravity any more. Still, we had to be careful of our footing on the slippery rocks covering the path but other than that, it was a breeze. But having given our brekkie to the local inhabitants and returning to the hotel too late for the morning buffet, we opted to sleep until lunchtime. We followed a recommendation from one of our travelling companions and tried the speciality roast suckling pig dish at Ibu Oka. Above is a mixed dish of roast meat, deep-fried meat, vegetables and on the left, a slab of crackling skin. The flavours were so amazingly rich, we realised we should have shared one order instead of having one each. The crackling skin was the best I've tasted, crispy pork fat at its finest, though the second piece nearly did me in with the sudden onset of the law of diminishing marginal utility.

Back at the Kamandalu, we indulged ourselves with a sore muscles massage and flower bath at the spa. The skilful papmpering from the professional and friendly staff made a great end to a tough but eventually satisfying morning.

Bali revisited: Day 1

See this? It's a well deserved tall, cold, drink from Cafe Wayan, Ubud, Bali. We very nearly didn't make it here at all. On the way to the airport, we realised that we forgot to pack our hotel bookings. We had to turn our cab around  for home, scramble to find the printed pages... but they were nowhere to be found. By the time we decided to transfer the booking email to my roaming email account, we were pushing late. And because the taxi meter was still running, we were out of $20+ even before we actually left our front door. Fortunately, we arrived last at the flight check-in counter just before it closed.

Our hotel in Ubud is the Kamandalu Resort & Spa. We have a private villa that's roomy and comfortable with both indoor and outdoor bath facilities... but too bad our first night won't be spent here. We're booked on a midnight trek up Mt Batur, an active volcano, to see the sunrise and have brekkie at the crater. But that's another adventure altogether...

Still walking

Picked up "The Walking Dead: The Game" from Telltale Games. I've been following the gripping, gritty series on TV and wanted to know if the PC game version really deserved the Spike VGA Game of the Year 2012 accolade.

TWD:TG is an episodic point-and-click survival-horror-adventure game. Using the mouse, you trawl the screen looking for clickable 'hotspots' that provide information; dialogue; the occasional side snide comment or an interactive element. There are five episodes so far and all are currently available for download as a package.

This story is set just before the lead character, Sheriff Rick Grimes, awakens from his coma at the beginning of the TV series. In the game, you play Lee Everett, an African-American ex-college professor with a history he regrets. The emotional hook comes in the form of Clementine, a little girl, presumably orphaned during the chaos, whom Everett meets and decides to care for.

Apart from the forced choice of adopting Clementine, the game leaves lots of room for the player to make other choices which stick, changing the outcome of the game. Non-player characters (NPCs) remember their dialogues with you and they note your decisions, which determine how they will respond to you in future interactions. Many of these choices are hard: whom do you side in the frequent arguments that flare up due to the stress and pressure -- and self-preservation responses -- that the other characters experience? How do you negotiate with strangers who hold as much menace as promise? Be pragmatic or compassionate? How will your choices affect your relationship with Clementine and the others in your group?

If you've been watching the TV series, you can feel the pain the characters are going through, living day to day as they do. But in the game, it's not so easy when you have to make those decisions in first person and have to live with what you've done because once your choice is made, it's irrevocable. These choices are not what you can ponder long over as there is a timer that will make a choice for you if you don't decide quickly enough, and that sticks too. Some of your choices hold people's lives in the balance and if they die they stay dead... unless they reanimate and try to chew your face off.

Telltale has innovated quite intelligently with the point-and-click adventure genre. Whether it's finding a target area to hit (especially difficult if you don't set your mouse sensitivity properly) or making a split second decision because there's no time to think, yet balancing that with maintaining a consistent character and a healthy relationship with Clementine and the group, you really feel the tension of the situation. And knowing that the story compels you to complete a series of mundane tasks that will trigger some horrific occurrence as your payoff, well, there's good pacing for you.

Glad the game has eschewed photorealism in favour of animating the comic book version of the story. In a way, it's going back to its roots. The voice acting sounds true to character so despite the cartoony graphics, you still feel like you're interacting with real people. And when you lose people for one reason or another, sometimes you do miss the voice you can no longer hear.

Game of the year? Considering that the production values and gameplay mechanics are not as polished as the big-budget offerings, VGA has taken a stand to honour the indie publisher for strength and depth of immersion in an intense story experience over games that involve long-term grinding. These days, I prefer short, satisfying games over games that play out over hours seemingly without end (like the previous game of the year, "Skyrim" which I never completed -- may not even be half-way through!). So, yeah, odd, brave choice, but one that I can support.

Love and the Singaporean

What's up with all these sex scandals surfacing thick and fast in the media this year? Teachers, principals, uni profs, senior civil servants and parliamentarians: respectable people all, yet publicly disgraced because of some indiscretion causing the affair to be outed for the moral majority to tut-tut over.

Can we really be so shocked that people in our midst would jeopardize promising careers and social standing over some illicit hanky-panky? Perhaps these cases are an indication that our puritanical state is starting to show cracks in the facade we've so meticulously maintained until now and we're finally seeing that biology is a much stronger force than we thought we could control.

Romantic love washes the brain over with a cocktail of chemicals that messes up the logical thought process. The feel-good sensations one experiences when one is in love encourages living for the moment; the sense that nothing else matters; and -- most importantly -- reckless, risk-taking behaviour. Hence, people with the most to lose are also likely to be the biggest risk-takers regarding matters of the heart.

Here, I'm confused because on the one hand our population is suffering a baby-dearth while on the other, we're criminalizing behaviour that gives rise to more babies. Could this strange dichotomy be at the heart of our population problem -- that the people we marry are not the ones we are in love with?

Before you overreact, let's think about the common Singaporean courtship ritual. It's planned, organized, structured. The proposal comprises making plans to purchase public housing for the couple; the wedding is a programmed event that follows a generally predictable order of must-dos scheduled to the second; child-bearing brings a new round of planning; while child rearing likewise follows a narrow, set pathway or bust.

If love is reckless and encourages risk, the Singaporean marriage pact is hardly that. Without allowing room for the chaos of romantic love, the Singaporean couple isn't likely to change its plans regardless of whatever "baby bonus" is thrown at it. And if wild, crazy romantic love isn't found in a Singaporean household, is it so surprising that dissatisfied partners may be finding it elsewhere, in more dangerous places, with more disastrous consequences?

Only mad dogs and Englishmen...

Took a stroll around the Marina Bay area simply because the sun was shining. As I soaked in solar rays, I could feel the symptoms of various maladies melt away. Staying indoors in a sedentary job sometimes requires the occasional venture outside to blink at the brightness of the day.

Here's a view of the Bay I've never beheld before. The new boardwalk almost completely encircles the bay and if not for how solar-averse our population is, it would remind me of beautiful Sidney Harbour. Well, that was my impression, anyway. Odd being a tourist in your own country.

In other news, Doc Nair agrees that Maui's bladder health is improving. The silly boy provided his own evidence.So scared he is of the vet that he peed in his carrier... more pee than I've ever seen him produce in a long time. Bath time when I got him home, which necessarily meant a shower for me too, new scratches and a ruined T-shirt to show for it.

System upgraded

Cybermind is currently offering a 25% discount on MSI Intel mainboard packages. That's an offer I couldn't refuse -- despite what I said earlier about upgrading Mr L33t. Shelled out just over a grand for an i7-based system, 8 gigs RAM and a GTX660Ti video processor. Nice.

The old parts are going to become my in-house project: upgrading the living room antique Win XP-running PC to be compatible with the first decade of the 21st century at least. I've never put together a whole system from scratch, so wish me luck on this one. I'm sure I kept the manuals around someplace... hmm.

What's my beef?

McD's new BLT quarter-pounder with cheese. Good idea putting fresh veggies in the burger. Too bad about the fake bacon. Hence, special order: LT no B.

De-rezzed

I'm peeved and slightly demoralized at this moment. Nearly all the pix I've uploaded here have been wiped out by the closure of Webshots, my once-faithful host. Only the ones on Google+ are still accessible, though I only started using G+ recently so not many. Who knows what it's gonna take to replace those old shots, or even if I really want to do that? What a pain!

(Not quite) Jack of all trades

Jack Neo can make light family drama; social satire and even some verbal comedy, but please do not let him make a war movie. Ever. The opening sequences of "Ah Boys to Men" depicted our beloved home city under attack by enemy forces. Neo went whole hog with the digital explosions and debris-littered ruins of once familiar local landmarks. I suppose our armed forces saw this movie as an opportunity to show off some of the latest military hardware in action. But the on-screen violence was a gratuitous pastiche of bangs, blood and... bad gags. There's too much showing off of the studio's spfx capabilities, but not much focus on what's holding the shots together. Yes, it's a case of trying too hard to wear too many hats that the narrative credibility just falls apart.

Besides, the unidentified OPFOR has no apparent objective. The logistics it brings to bear suggest a conventional invasion, but the tactics and doctrine are that of terrorists on a suicide mission. Taking out civilian targets and civilians themselves on the ground first, while leaving military response bases able to mobilize against the threat practically guarantees a short campaign. Yet, the sequence ends with no clear resolution. The invasion is still in progress, both sides are losing combat-capable troops then, abruptly, a new story begins. Even as propaganda, the pointless introduction fails. While it does set the tone for what turns out to be an emo "Army Daze" remake, the initial emotional impact is dulled by out-of-place humour and a poorly executed montage of people randomly trading shots with each other with various types of ordnance, collateral damage notwithstanding.

Fortunately, the rest of the movie -- which actually involves family drama; social satire and light verbal comedy -- plays to Neo's strengths. Apart from tracing the lead character's journey from Ah Boy to Man through his misadventures in Basic Training, the movie was also a nostalgic comparison of training philosophies past and present. Back then, it was a civilian ARMY; whereas now it is a CIVILIAN army. These sequences I can believe because we've all been there and they're part of our collective consciousness.

Neo again goes for the moralistic approach in the debate that follows: Priority to self, or priority to nation, the answer being pretty obvious. While exploring the humour that goes with various methods employed by malingering conscripts to escape training, ultimately selfish choices lead to nasty consequences that have an impact on wider society. That story of a boy's learning to take responsibility for his actions, though melodramatic, is clear. Though what he does with this new found responsibility is a lot less clear because of the sudden...

TO BE CONTINUED

Crowning achievement

It's been like a month of playing a chess game where the pawn finally makes it to the other side of the board and gets crowned. The crown isn't what I expected, however. Instead of a ceramic facsimile that blends seamlessly with my other choppers, I got a gun-metal grey armour-plate that's clearly alien to my dental infrastructure. If I didn't look avuncular already, I certainly do now.

I also got some of my other teeth ground down flatter, so where there used to be edges and ridges, now there are plateaus. I know the procedure is supposed to help even out my bite, but I miss the character each tooth used to have. It feels like I've suddenly become herbivorous but that is, of course, just perception. Give me a couple of days to recover and I'll be back hunting for a mammoth steak, served so juicy rare that ketchup is optional.

In the fridge is a 2 litre canister of milk which, I believe, through copious consumption will speed up recovery and get me my edge back.

Next appointment: six months' time. Great! I've had enough of the dentist's chair for a long while.

Withdrawal

Goodness! What is the repair shop doing with my S3? I sent it in a week ago due to charging problems. The battery would drain quickly, but take forever to charge. Intolerably long, anyway. They said three to five working days. At the close of today, it's been seven and counting.

How difficult a job could it be? Test battery and charger. Replace defective component. Return rectified unit to mobile addict. Everybody happy. But, no... still waiting. Grrr.

In the meantime, I've revived my primitive F480 for basic daily use. No Android, no iOSx, no mobile connection to the 'net. No instant photo upload to Google+, so no daily photos to inspire random, pointless blog entries.

#s3withdrawalsymptoms