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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good deed done for the day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy 40th, Singapore!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Momo caught in the act. Naughty girl! 

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

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

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

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

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

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