Trusted

It's an honour to be among the fourth most trusted professions in S'pore. The top three positions are firefighters (they have no reason to lie), doctors (we trust them with our lives, basically), and judges ('cos if you can't trust a judge, whom can you trust?). And then there's us, the humble teacher, trusted with imparting knowledge and the right values to "the future of our nation".

Aw, shucks. We do our best.

On an unrelated note, Amy's link to Lennon's "Imagine" performed by the cast of "Glee" (below)

... contains lyrics that are perhaps too idealistic for me. Lennon isn't asking us to "Imagine" what could be, but rather what once was. Everything he wishes away are structures and institutions that humans have made and that make us human.  Look, we're already here and we're here to stay. Yes, we're made a mess of it and yes, we're responsible to clean it up. And we will try. But the only way Lennon is going to see his imagination become reality is if he includes one last verse beginning, "Imagine there's no people..."

I'm a cynic after all. Who knew?

Sorry for the breakdown

In case you're wondering why the format of these entries now looks different and untidy, it's because NBS alerted me to the unfriendliness of ECHO Live, the new comments manager I had subscribed to. Note the past tense. I quote her official complaint

"... your Comment function comes with custom barriers. Sign in first...choose which profile to sign in with, wait for the program to load...And hence, I gave up. That blog isn't an interactive one, it's now officially a soliloquy."

Removing ECHO was a pain as it had somehow embedded itself into my blog template through some obscure HTML coding. Though no HTML expert, by trial and error I've finally restored Blogger as my comments manager. However, as a result I've lost all the comments to my previous entries. :(

Blindly messing about with unfamiliar code has also resulted in the messy layout, and I have no idea where the "Reactions" check boxes came from and how to remove them. I may have lost other functions too but I'll probably find out which specific ones over the next few days.

But anyway, the soliloquy is over. It was never meant to be one, anyway.

Under the sea

I had no idea women were banned from submarine operations.

What were the reservations of the Navy when they instituted the ban?

I suppose practical considerations like privacy and accommodation are valid. Besides, sub ops often isolate people for months on end, and in such cramped conditions emotional attachments and rivalries could easily arise and thereafter compromise the morale and operational readiness of the crew. Also the social and political fallout of having women killed in battle could reduce national will to pursue an aggressive course of action against an enemy over the long term.

These were the notions of sailors in ages past, when bringing a woman on board ship was once regarded as ominous to the voyage.

Today, the US Navy has relinquished such archaic thinking. The nature of modern battles places women on the frontlines regardless of the capacity they are serving in. In war, any target that moves is fair game, conscience and regret be damned. At least give the lady a rifle and she might be able to shoot back,increasing her chances of survival on the battlefield.

In combat, women strategize in ways that often blindside men (if you don't know this, you haven't fought one before), so male dependent enemy forces could be at quite a disadvatage when the US military machine employs its latest now not-so-secret weapon to its fullest and deadliest capacity.

But the biggest reservation against assigning women to the undersea corps has to be the negation of a very old joke. To the question, "what is long and hard and full of seamen?" the answer can no longer be "a submarine."

Free to any home!

Maui's been a naughty boy lately. Apparently, he's been overeating at breakfast so between the time I've gone off to work and June's just about leaving he's eaten not just his own share but has also robbed Momo and Kaiser of their shares, and consequently has upchucked it all in little piles all over the floor. Little wet piles of unchewed, mashed-together kibble all over the floor. June's mad 'cos she has to clean up everything before dashing off for the train, hoping the delay won't make her late.

As we're discussing the problem we hit on a few solutions: reduce everyone's rations by half. Print and distribute flyers offering a free cat to anyone who wants one. I suggested that to save money and material, we shoud just stuff Maui into a random mailbox and assume the best. June reminded me that Maui was so fat already, he'll never fit into a mailbox and still be in any condition that will keep his disposition sweet enough to be adopted. Eventually we decided to encase him in a crate large enough to accommodate his girth, weigh it down with his sandbox and a starter pack of kitty litter, and place it in a strategic location where a prospective adoptive family might be curious enough to lift the lid and be charmed by the no-longer-little ball of ginger-striped fur within.

Of course, none of those scenarios is ever going to come true. Oh... but the temptation...!

Anyway, that's my point. Never adopt a pet unless you're prepared to tolerate all the unglam inconveniences that comes with pet ownership. Don't give pets away as gifts either, it's unfair to stick your best whomever with an unwanted responsibility.

The same goes for having kids -- there are consequences. A baby is not a decision to be made willy nilly. Have or have not, there is no 'Maybe'.

"I will feed him"

This being the third Sunday of the month, June cooks up a chix curry for the old folks at Gift of Love and I provide transport. Still haven't quite warmed up to conversation with them yet...

Have a happy heart

Columbia Uni researchers say that being happy reduces the risk of developing heart problems. Even if you aren't a happy person by nature, just 'acting' happy benefits your heart. In practice, people aren't natural actors either. So how?

Enter Lauren McCarthy's Happiness Hat! This unique headgear actually 'trains' its wearer to be happy. And when your're done with the training, you'll be absolutely certain that you need a heart attack like you need a hole in the head.

If you would only look and see

Call me paranoid but in my dreary workaday existence I can't help but think life passes me by beyond the range of my peripheral vision.

Thanks for the link, YT!

A little professionalism, please

What gets my goat is a paid professional instructor in the performing arts who has no clue about performance discipline and backstage etiquette. As someone who should be setting the example, he's breaking every basic rule while his students are showing a little more restraint than him. Disgraceful.

He is no one I know personally, but at this morning's CNY concert, while waiting for his troupe's item to cue up, he's blithely walking past wing space and standing clearly visible onstage to check out the MCs making their welcome intros. Strike one.

When he's not making a nuisance of himself with his uncued presence, he's back in the wings rocking in a squeaking comfy-chair and making conversation with his students -- while the P is giving his address! Strike two.

Then he gets bored. He reaches in front of him and picks up a drumstick that has been preset for the Chinese Orchestra's performance. He uses the purloined drumstick as a personal back massager! Anyone with even a modicum of professional courtesy will keep their paws OFF props and equipment that do not belong to them or their part of the show. Strike three!

Two things I'm concerned about in confronting the man is that I don't speak his language well and anything I say could potentially spark off a diplomatic incident. And two, because he knows kung fu, he could well beat me into a pulp if he detects an antagonistic tone in my voice. So I simply walk through the wings to his immediate location and place my physical presence right next to his, and between him and the other Chinese Orchestra instruments. I don't have to say a word, though I don't like the way he's eyeing the triangle either...

How do I know he was the instructor despite him being dressed like the rest of his troupe? His bushy mustache gave him away. If he was one of our students, he'd just look seriously overaged.

I think that's the problem with us as a whole. We focus on being competent, excellent even, in the work we are supposed to do; but we forget that beyond our little world there is a larger performance going on around us. We forget that even if we're not yet called on to perform, what we do while waiting our turn still contributes to or detracts from the larger performance.

Why is our little country ranked 53rd among the most liveable cities in the world despite scoring high in "stability, healthcare... education as well as infrastructure"? Because our scores in "environment and culture" pulled our overall grade down. That's exactly what I mean from today's little story. It's a waste if our overall efforts to perfect our personal competencies are let down because of poor environmental awareness and a lack of cultural propriety. Those are the niceties, the little things we don't consider so important and thus we tend to ignore them. But they do add up towards the final tally.

Your individual performance may have been spot-on perfect, but people are more likely to remember if the concert on the whole sucked or not. Perhaps you think I'm being a Nazi about this but, even if occurring offstage, just one thoughtless act, one moment of indiscipline, or one misplaced prop could bring down the entire show. Fortunately today's concert, apart from the above-mentioned backstage shenanigans, turned out quite tolerable after all.

Announcing Wowpowbow

I know I'm not likely to have any success publicizing Drama Night 2010 through this post, but I'm providing a link to the promotional website anyway. Following the success of the 10-minute play genre that we used for last year's Drama Night, this year we've decided to host a 10-minute play competition open to our kids and staff to see what hidden talents may yet shine on campus.

The competition will be called (and I hereby copyright the name) "Wow! Pow! Take a Bow!" or "wowpowbow" for short, because these three words encapsulate both the intensity and the berevity of the 10-minute play.

Expanding the theatre experience to the rest of the college is part of my vision to turn the NYeDC into a credible in-house theatre management company rather than just an expressive outlet for an exclusive bunch of emo teen "artistes" in need of shock therapy. No offense, alumni! Ha ha!

Anyway, the website link as I promised: http://wowpowbow.viviti.com. I've been experimenting with Viviti as a way to cobble a website together quick and dirty, and without the need for messing about with code. Everything's wysiwyg, instructions are easy to follow, and all I do is choose what I want to go where, click the right spot and edit the text where needed. QED, though I've already spent at least a couple of days tweaking. OCD, can't help it.

Problem with Viviti is that I'm going to have to start paying for the service soon. Not cheap (US$10/month!) but it's either that or risk ads popping up and annoying my eyeballs. Grrr... Tough decision...

Speaking of paying for services, my free Haloscan comment service is winding up and now I have to pay for the new comments host they've so kindly transferred my account to. Wonder if it's worth the expense...? Hmmm...

Early bird

What the heck am I doing on campus at 0630? First thing in the morning class? Yes, but that's not the reason. The reason is that my own version of daylight savings time unexpectedly kicked in this morning. Woke up at 0530 thinking it was 0630, performed my usual morning routines and rituals and arrived here a whole hour before anyone sane normally shows up. No wonder the roads were so clear of traffic and the sky never got brighter en route.

If it's true that older people need less sleep, I'd estimate my age to be at least 100.

'Laundry list'

Does being focused on exam results actually get in the way of a child's education? Engel, writing in the NYT, thinks so. In her article, "Playing to Learn," she envisions her ideal primary school curriculum -- free of a "laundry list of goals... and... devoted instead to just a few narrowly defined and deeply focused goals".

If school was just all about the kids and their needs, I'd agree with her. Unfortunately, though we would like to think it was, the whole community wants their hands in the pie, and everybody has a stake in how our little "future leaders" are going to be raised.

The government wants a workforce that can sustain and even grow the economy; the economy wants loyal consumers and a competent and relevant employee pool; parents want the best (which Indicators are they most likely to identify as "The Best", anyway? A slew of Awards, perhaps? Track record of 'A' grades?) for their kids; the kids want some meaning to their lives apart from the prospect of lifelong enslavement to an inescapable cycle of work-earn-shop-rinse-repeat; and we staff want to remain employed by doing our best to satisfy everybody. Ergo, laundry list.

Sorry, kids. It's time to face facts. School does not revolve around you alone.

What's my line?

Got introduced to ecareers.sg, a new career matching portal that we're to encourage our kids to use. Although it's meant for use by our industry, it looks like anyone with a S'porean IC can sign up for a free account and get their interests and competencies surveyed for a job that they could be suitable for.

There's a section for mapping out an education path to a desired career along with several local and international colleges and universities offering relevant courses. Also advice on resume writing and an online portfolio for each account holder to store and manage their interview materials and other career-related stuff. Looks quite useful and user-friendly overall.

As part of the intro, I had to try out the questionnaire myself. 23 pages of questions to answer with a slider-bar rating my interests in various tasks and confidence in doing each well. It was quite demoralizing as I discovered I have very little interest and even less talent in most of the jobs the portal suggested. 'Modelling fashionable clothes': No. 'Managing an office': No. 'Greeting people': Erm... if there's nothing else better to do. It went on like that for many, many questions.

After grinding through my responses, the portal spat out my results: high Artistic tendencies, very poor Realistic outlook. Topping the list of jobs suitable for one such as myself: Author (no full-time career position available, likely to only make money if I can sell 50,000 books. Don't think ANY S'porean author has sold anywhere near 50,000 books yet).

'Education Officer' was nowhere on the list. Guess that explains a lot. 'Author'. Feh. How ever did the portal get that idea?

VinceheartNBS

I don't have all that many friends, so the odds of two of them pledging to spend the rest of their lives together is astronomical. Yet, here they are, Vince (of the tell-all stag party expose) and NBS (my partner in KrIme), are wed and locked -- and it's about time, you two.

This is one wedding where I could not answer the question, "Bride's side or Groom's?" with any certainty. So being shelved under 'Miscellaneous' was as good a category as any.

I know both Vince and NBS have been stressing out over the preparations for the ceremony, but from my vantage point it looks like everything went off just fine.

The church wedding was relaxed. The preacher exhorted the principles of Contentment, Committment and Consecration in their marriage with the authority and levity of liberal quotes from both the Bible and Hallmark respectively. He neglected to mention Consummation, but I'm sure we don't really need a lot of instruction from the pulpit about that.

Standard Chinese wedding fare for dinner at Qian Xi (Farrer Park). The food was good, and the servings were generous. Pity we didn't have bigger eaters at our table, however -- there was much we couldn't finish. Standard procedure for the dinner rituals as well: champaign pouring, the toast, the 'thank you' speehes, the photo shoots per table. Uncomplicated and easy-going, much as what the happy couple generally prefer.

From mad off-campus lunchbreaks with us, to long weekly drives to Jurong (for personal routines), to investing in a condo together. It's been a long journey to get here, and now a new road has opened up for you to travel together. Take good care of each other, 'k?

NYeDC: New Blood

Am feeling good about NYeDC's recruitment. We've attracted some promising J1s who have had some theatre experience already, so we need not begin from scratch with them like we usually do every year. Here, they're playing a game of Tableaux, in which the kids come up one by one to create a picture based on a particular theme. What do you think the theme for this picture is?

And here's RodO leading a reading of his (now mostly typo-free) script. Mel and I sat through auditions with him and together we made our casting decisions. Looks like we have a strong cast this year. Let's hope they have the discipline and work ethic to match.

My kingdom for a script

Upon pain of death, NYeDC has been charged to perform a comedy in which no one wants to commit suicide and no one wants to murder anybody either. Our club has somehow gained a reputation for OTT emo portrayals of doom and gloom and our principle audience has had enough of it. They want something to laugh at, and not crave to slit their wrists immediately following the denoument. Our director, RodO, has found us a script that fits the bill perfectly.

And now NYeDC is back in competition! Today is the deadline for submitting our registration. The rules say I have to submit a proofread script, approved by the P himself. But the script I submitted was full of typos and some inexplicable changes of gender for the lead character.

It couldn't be helped -- I only got the script emailed over to me the night before and this morning was a rush to juggle classes and P for his stamp of approval, then there was the drive to personally hand the script over to the judging authorities before the deadline. It was a case of getting registered first, and worry about getting scolded for lax proofreading later. At least we're still in the running.

Et tu, ME2

"Mass Effect 2" arrived on the shelves without the fanfare of its illustrious predecessor. No talk of banning the game for perverted sexual content, no appeals committee set up to review and repeal the ban, nothing. And indeed, there is nothing in the game that looks controversial enough to warrant even a raised eyebrow, except the one on the forehead of the most rabid anti-violence militant or repressed pro-celebacy Taleban enforcer. This sequel seems much more careful not to incite the wrath of our censors this time, but has lost a little bit of it's "bad boy" appeal because of it.

But it's still fun to play. What's not to like when your character develops the power to shoot incendiary bullets at enemy targets? Zooming in with the sniper scope reveals said enemy performing an "OMG, I'm on fire" dance, frantically trying to beat out the flames before collapsing into a shower of blackened, powdery particles. Or picking them up with TK powers and slamming them around the room, onto the walls and floor, or dropping them off the edge of a bottomless precipice? Hilarious.

But this isn't to say that the player is all-nigh invulnerable, though. I've died several times too due to successful enemy flanking manouvres catching me in a crossfire or surrounding me in a swarm of melee attackers if I can't put them down fast enough. Or more irritatingly, when an overexcited button push vaults my character over cover instead of ducking behind it. When that happens, I'm directly in the line of fire and then I'm dead in seconds. Bah. Design flaw.

The fun part is to gather a team of badass squaddies, each with their own back stories. In order to unlock their special abilities each of them needs their baggage resolved. Most have problems with either their parents or their children, which seems like an odd collection of problems to solve for such a hardcore bunch. Maybe it's because they weren't loved as children that's why the became such badasses who can't deal with their own children? I dunno.

What's missing is the randomness of battle encounters that the first installment had in spades. Now almost every mission has some purpose towards the immediate goal rather than building up a picture of a universe far larger than the obvious. Most side-quests are of the find-fetch-deliver variety which are mundane at best, and no setting people on fire while we're at it. Meh.

Depending on the player character's selected gender, there are a few teammates that can be flirted with throughout the mission. However out of the many dalliances, the player has to choose only one to complete the romance narrative with. But all that takes place in a blackout between cutscenes, so there's hardly anything to get excited about. Perhaps alien-human pairings are too biologically complicated to animate? Or a parent control lock somewhere I haven't disabled? Or maybe I just have a whitewashed no-controversy S'pore version of the game? Oh, well.

Anyway, I'm just playing ME2 for the story only. Because the choices I made in my playthrough of the previous game persist and even affect the events and relationships I can have in the sequel, it really does feel like being part of a coherent epic story. If I replayed ME with different choices, my ME2 experience would also be different. And so will it be for ME3, whenever that comes out.

42

It does not matter that the individual with boots on the ground is constantly evolving, always adapting to changing circumstances; or that the audience is always dynamic in their needs, preferences and levels of engagement, never static. What might have worked for one audience is rarely going to work for another; what didn't work before sometimes when taken back to the shop for tweaking could work wonders for a fresh new audience. An organization that offers such variations year after year means that it must be doing Something right, especially if the variations show a discernible improvement over time.

An organization, on the other hand, cannot accept this "Something" to remain undefined. To the organization, an undefined "Something" is like having an itch it cannot scratch. How will it know to replicate its benchmark-topping successes if there isn't Something to pin down as the Method/Best Practice/Framework/Model or whatever else you might want to call it as the One Key Factor that made it all happen?

Individuals simply adapt, change, survive, and are grateful to simply live to see another sunrise. Change is the only Constant, Luck or lack thereof messes up carefully calculated odds, Sh*t happens; so attempting to attribute certain habits, behaviours or practices with life-preserving qualities is a complete puzzle for the individual to fathom. Nevertheless, that was precisely the exercise for this afternoon's after-school activity.

From our discussions, I came to understand what Corporate was getting at. It didn't really matter what all our disparate individuals were doing on the ground, whether we were lighting lamps or filling empty vessels or saving starfish or dodging bullets or fighting fires. What Corporate wants is for all of us individuals to provide the same answer, sing the same tune, dance the same dance to the same piper's tune if and when someone asks Something about our organization. That's all.

Now it has just become clear why the answer to "life the universe and everything" is "42". As long as everyone in the organization agrees that the answer is "42", "42" IS and henceforth shall ever be the answer.

Dogsitting Mimi

While the Wongs have been away on their short trip to HK, I've been dogsitting Mimi as per our usual arrangement.

Having taken care of her for a week, it's become painfully apparent that she's aged quite a bit. On walkies, her gait is much slower than it used to be, and she certainly isn't as excitable as she once was. She's also gone quieter, with things that go on around her passing with scant notice and even at home she's no longer barking for attention 'cos most of the time she's just sleeping. She takes her meds with no fuss either (yes, having to take meds is another sign of ageing).

She has indeed mellowed out over the years. So she's been such a good girl to look after for a week, no trouble at all. Wonder if we human beings generally age this gracefully?

What happens at stag

Oops. I seem to have generated some unhealthy interest in last Saturday's post. Apparently, I've broken some unspoken taboo. What happens at stag, should stay at stag. Pardon my indiscretion. :X

A change of menu

Just when June had begun to see a pattern after being married for ten years... whenever we visit my parents on the weekend for dinner, it's always the same thing on the menu. Steamed chix, steamed pomfret, roast pork purchased off the shelf, stir-fried towgay, and either a canned Campbell's whatever or fresh spinach soup, in more or less that combination.

To be honest, meals aren't my family's forte. Sure, even when growing up our meals were hot, fresh, probably nutritious too, but they weren't exactly "Omg, you've gotta try this!!!" on the Michelin star scale. Probably explains why as kids we ate so little, and it still took us a long time to shovel down what little we had too.

Anyway, just when June had detected a pattern in the way our weekend dinners were repeating themselves, today there was a sudden change in the menu. Mom had discovered Fassler Gourmet and suddenly we had a spread of sashimi salmon, US scallops, and satay (not from Fassler). It was a whole new taste sensation!

And June, well... she missed dinner 'cos she's in HK. Oh, well.