Sideline distractions

What a bunch of crybabies! Lose a game then blame it on being distracted by the sideline action? Dudes, if you're the serious athletes that you claim to be, you'd be keeping your eyes on the ball, not the globes. Or did you really sign up because it's the only chance you'll get to go to a beach populated by girls who only lug their jugs in a figurative way?

Actually, this post is just an excuse to link to a page filled with gratuitous pix of scantily clad women. What? I'm not a Yemeni beach volleyball player!

Organizational inertia

Change is in the air for dNYel's GP programme. At least we're starting to think about it, seeing that the employment environment has changed significantly. Like it or not, we're still in the business of cranking out economic workers, except that now our economy has moved from assembly-line manufacturing to knowledge management, creativity and service. Likewise, we're looking at our production model and making decisions about how best to modify working systems and overhaul obsolete ones.

No specifics as yet. Too many people have too many different opinions on how to proceed. There will be changes made in the coming weeks, but I hope that in an effort to please everyone it won't become 'the more things change, the more they stay the same'.

We'll take all the ideas, evaluate our options and eventually whittle them down into a workable strategy. That's the nature of an organization. Change may be slow, but if it is in the right direction, that's all that matters.

The Tabby field test

Took Mr Tabby on a date to Vivocity for a field test to see how I liked him. So far his reviews have been mixed so it was time to try him out for myself.

Portability:
He certainly is a monster of a mobile phone with his 7" screen. But he fit perfectly into the side pocket of my berms. I could even button the flap. His 380g of mass was noticeable as I walked, but it didn't bother me too much after a while. Guess people who wear cargo pants have the advantage if they want to carry him about hands free. Else he'll have to go in a bag.

Connectivity:
3G, Wi-fi, Bluetooth. Connections are quite fast, making web browsing easy. 3G, of course, requires a data plan from SingTel -- 12Gb per month, standard. That's irritating because in order to use 12Gb per month, I have to transfer the SIM card from my current fully-functioning phone to the Tab, rendering my phone useless. Unless I operate the Tab exclusively on Wi-fi, in which case I'll be wasting my monthly data quota. I suppose I'll be swapping the SIM quite often to get the best of both worlds.

Making phone calls on the Tab is ridiculous. No way I'm going to put that giant cell phone to my face to talk, so a Bluetooth headset is a must-have. Fortunately, launch day customers receive the very item, gratis. One more thing jiggling around in the pockets wherever we go.

Interface:
The touchscreen is very responsive under the fingers. Fast flicks and pinches result in eyeball-spinning scrolling but it responds well to slow, controlled movements too.  The QWERTY-keypad is touch-responsive, signalling every key press with a little vibration and a brief highlight of the key pressed. In landscape orientation, the keys are rather far apart, so holding the Tab in one hand leaves only one finger available to do the typing with. In portrait, however, both thumbs can easily reach all the keys making typing much easier this way.

Camera:
Er, I didn't buy him for the camera.

Apps:
Lots of free apps are available from the Android Market. Apart from the usual FB, email, GPS apps, I particularly like using the Tab as an e-book reader. It's so easy to open up Kobo, find any book and download  a copy. Books are cheap too. I bought 'Drive' and 'Rework' for less than half the price at the bookstore. It's so easy, it's scary how one can get carried away e-shopping and not realize how much money it will all amount to when it's time to settle the bill.

Other:
I'm having some problems getting the contacts I have on my SIM to sync with the Tab. Not sure what I'm doing wrong, but I should figure it out soon enough. Mr Tabby is a serious money-draining device because of his ease of access to (often paid, even if cheap) information, sometimes we don't even realize we're paying for it. Also, some apps insist on tracking the user by GPS coordinates, so if I was ever going to commit a crime, I have to never make him an accessory or he'll squeal on my every movement in a snap.

Verdict:
Thought it may have been love at first sight, it's not love at first date. No doubt Mr Tabby is going to be useful but we're going to have to adapt to one another's quirks and annoyances if we're going to make this relationship work. As it is, when he's in my hands, I'm addicted to pushing his buttons just to see what else he can do. Once I narrow down his most relevant functions to me, I do believe we'll get along just fine.

Launch day for Tab

I can't resist launch days. I hate crowds, especially excited crowds; and I hate lining up in long queues, but inevitably, I find myself there anyway.

Launch item in question is the Samsung Galaxy Tab -- big-assed brother to the 'S' launched earlier this year.

Much to my embarrassment, I found myself positioned #2 in line though I really didn't make an effort to arrive that early. Somehow as we slightly early birds were milling about, the organizers got their act together and herded us into line. By some strange accident, I found myself right in front.

Found out later that the very first four retail customers had already been identified and given VIP treatment, while I was #2 after them. Still, I was far ahead enough to be invited to view the launch concert in person. Some up and coming K-pop star, G.Na, was on hand to belt out a few English and Korean numbers and say some nice things about the Tab before we could rush over to the retail counters and collect ours.

So, without any further ado, presenting my very own Personal Non-Productivity Device, Mr Tabby.

Graduation bawl

With reference to 'Graduation: No gown, scroll or photo op': for crap's sake, lady, your kid has graduated... kindergarten! Perhaps that might have been a grand accomplishment for you -- could be still -- but your kid has lots more opportunities to wear the cutesy costume for your photographic pleasure when it actually means something to him.

You keep insisting the event will be an 'unhappy' one, but the only one who is unhappy is you. The organization is happy doing it that way; the kids are happy because they have no other frame of reference (besides you) to compare their celebration against; and the other parents are probably happy because they can quickly grab their bemused graduand, take him for a celebratory ice-cream sundae and pack him off to Chinese tuition straight after lunch.

You know what will be really unhappy? Forcing hundreds of pre-schoolers to sit still and quiet while hundreds of names are read out individually. Have you never experienced hell on earth before?

Your kid deserves to be happy on the day of his graduation, but he won't be happy because you won't be happy. Smile, please, for his sake. It's HIS party, you can't cry just because you want to.

The one question

Another GP year has come to a close. Today's final exam was, if not easy, then at least straightforward. Most essay questions looked do-able, and no nasty surprises. There was a head-scratcher over dying rich = dying 'disgraced', and a particular angle demanded by the tech question (tech has a negative effect on skill levels) which I hope the kids paid attention to. They do love the sci-tech subject so much, sometimes they forget to read the whole question. *shudder

But the compre paper totally vindicated what I had said about the application question all along. There is only ONE question to answer, no matter how many question marks appear. The main question is the one that asks if and/or how the one or two passages apply to the [new] given context from which perspective the candidate is required to consider. In other words, when we ask which author you agree with, or is more relevant, or otherwise presents a more convincing argument, these are just supporting questions that remind the candidate to make appropriate and relevant references to the passages in answer to the main question.

Trouble is, kids tend to spend too much energy answering the supporting questions (frankly, I don't care which author you agree with OR why), they have no time or forget to answer the main question. Instant fail.

This year, the application question went straight to the heart of the matter: how does the author's views on food apply to you and your society? It didn't even bother to ask the supporting questions, knowing how well we've drilled our kids to answer them. A single question mark sharpens the focus to a single key idea. That's the application question I understood right from the time they rolled it out. It didn't need to get any more complicated than that.

Attempting to make small talk

First, condolences to NBS who lost a Squeak. We pet owners share your grief as it is the same pain, regardless of their relative sizes. :'(

Second, while on duty this afternoon, I happened to overhear a conversation between a trio of fellow invigilators. It was all about tut tutting over some petty misdemeanour of a colleague of theirs before drifting on to discuss where they expect to be in five years' time. OMG, is this really the subject matter normal human beings raise when they make small talk? No wonder I have problems chatting people up. Small talk is just lost on me, who prefers to keep his own counsel over making such inconsequential matters sound so serious.

Which is why I am so thankful for my own colleagues. Our talk is anything but serious, nothing is too sacred to poke fun at -- not even ourselves -- and to anyone listening in on us we would probably make no sense at all.

We spent the evening celebrating another birthday. The a la carte buffet spread at Hibiki was very well done. We couldn't decide what to order so the staff presented our table for 10 a first round serving of everything on the menu. The ebi sashimi was so fresh it didn't remind me of fish bait for once. Even the unagi was palatable to my finicky standards. After the first round, we were only able to order another serving of assorted sashimi and teriyaki (for the non-raw food eaters) before calling it quits. Kind'a sad that this place that serves up such good food didn't have much business. We occupied the biggest table in the house, made the most noise and kept the staff most busy. They could certainly use more customers, so go!

Will end off this rather random entry with this clip featuring a totally audacious football play. Usually in [American] football, we can expect loads of violence, mayhem and broken bodies flung all over the pitch -- and that's just during the touchdown celebrations. In comparison, the following play must have been designed by Gandhi himself! Take a look...


And... that's all, folks!

Can you count to two?

End of year invigilation has started. Large exam venues are a pain as the candidature runs in the hundreds. Accounting for the papers collected takes some time as each one has to be tallied against the attendance sheet. So even after the paper has ended, we can still expect to remain behind for a while counting everything up. As with B-lo's nightmarish experience with her first duty last week, it could happen that counting could last up to an hour after the 'pens down' announcement.

As it turns out, my duty today was the best case scenario. It was a relatively small candidature, no doubt, but my assignment was to be responsible for the private candidates' column. Altogether there were a total of four names on my list, 50% of which were absent. It was a breeze to collect and count all the way up to 'two', and skedaddle while the others were still collecting theirs.

A good start to this year's duty, I think. Not likely to occur again; no one could be as lucky twice.

Evil makes good

This year, it's the villains who get the focus. For all their grandiose plans of world domination, they're only compensating for the one thing they have been deprived of: acceptance. That is, if 'Despicable Me' and the just opened 'Megamind' would have us believe.

Gru's three orphans grow on him, and his long-suppressed paternal instincts rise to the fore as he meets his new-found responsibilities like a man. Megamind gets afflicted with reverse Stockholm syndrome -- he kidnaps the same female reporter so often he eventually falls for her. When this pair of miscreants realize their human sides, they gain a purpose bigger than themselves and eventually make good.

If only real evil were so easy to identify. But it's the consequences of momentary idiocy; or blind, unquestioning faith; or misguided righteousness that are truly horrific. In fact, often the greatest evils are perpetrated by those who believe they are acting for the greatest good. Think about that for a bit.

Oh, and while we're on the topic of cartoon characters, alas, poor Sid. I knew him, Manfred. Sniff.

But I'm only 40! Plus.

Anyone reading my last few entries must think yours truly is nothing but a crotchety old f*rt shaking his walking stick at the world 'cos he can't find his dentures. Better get the defibrillator on stand-by in case he bursts a blood vessel.

Slow down, old boy; you're starting to show your age.

Grades, grades...!

Our children certainly are a product of what we teach them. I can hear adult voices behind these kids' assertions that grades take priority over graciousness. It's fine for anxious parents and driven educators to push their kids to better and higher achievement, but not at the expense of hollowing them out of their basic humanity and unique personalities.

I watched the Asian premier of 'The Walking Dead' on Fox, and I couldn't help noticing the parallel between the cannibalistic undead and the yao guai (hungry ghost) next generation we seem to be raising. They may not lack resources -- I'm sure they'll all ace their job interviews with those impressive grades of theirs --  but they're all empty inside. In an every-zombie-for-itself world, no one can tell friend from enemy, family from stranger. Everyone is a competitor, every decent human being left is either food or seeks to put them out of their misery with a bullet between the eyes.

Ok, I'm exaggerating. But parents, teachers, one day in the not too distant future, these kids will be employed -- as decision-makers who will be deciding on our fate. Let's see how proud you will be of them when you are mouldering in some forgotten corner of a retirement home wondering why you haven't seen Junior in so long. Your kids will be too busy fighting and surviving in this competitive world that you created in their minds to think about you any longer, except how soon they can cash in your CPF.

Planned obsolescence

That's it. Done with the last consult. The last three weeks were intense, but it felt good to talk with the kids around a conference table than to talk at them in a classroom. Despite the disastrous results they've been getting throughout the year, it's gratifying to see they haven't given up and are still intent on doing well.

But it's out of my hands now. I've relinquished my hold on the bicycle and it's up to them to pedal, coast... or crash on their own. Like an anxious parent, all I can do is watch them go; knowing that if I've done my job well enough, they won't need me any more.

Keep pedaling, kids, and don't look back!

Deprived of iron

Oh dear. It's true. I confess. Haven't gone to the fitness centre in almost three weeks. My schedule has been packed with consults getting their acts together (at last!) in the run-up to the finals next week. But as a result, my cold is coming back. Blocked and leaky nose, wheezing lungs... check, check and check.

Thankfully, I'm down to my last full day of consults. Immediately after, I'm going straight back to pump the symptoms right out of my system.

'A' is the new normal

FM says we should strive for excellence, and from the ground wells up an outpouring of insecurity, inadequacy and  indignation. We're already working so hard to score straight 'A's; what more could the man expect to wring from us?

Ironic for me to say, but scoring straight 'A's is the new normal. Excellence no longer resides solely in academic achievement because all Education can provide is just a common foundation on which every student can start from.

Education trains good habits, plays a role in character building, helps people develop some idea about how the world functions. For most people, that is enough. It is, really. It's great to be average. People like us are the base from which excellent people stand above the crowd. But we seem to be short of such people who develop interests in interesting things and in so doing become interesting themselves. It gets tiresome sometimes when we look at each other and see reflections of our own mundaneness. In our human sea of dull grey, we want to see a few shiny things that brighten the gloom.

I dunno. When I see the occasional shiny thing, I get inspired to do a little better. For most of my fellow citizens, when they see shiny things their first instinct is to shoot them down, like they represent an alien invasion, or something. Maybe that's not too far fetched an analogy: our sporting achievements tend to erupt into a War of the Worlds situation as we flagellate ourselves over why 'true-blue S'poreans' aren't excellent enough to compete against out imported talent.

We've grown a culture that chooses not to celebrate excellence. We discourage our youngsters from pursuing things they are good at or are interested in doing. We're afraid that if they do well in those things, they'll lose their place in the average mass where there is safety in numbers. Shining too brightly or swimming too far out at the edge is a sure way to get snapped at by a passing predator, so everybody swims in a homogenous unit, in a... dare I say it? A school.

If we're going to be a school, I'd rather not be in a school of ikan bilis (anchovies). Lacklustre, uninteresting, numerous, nobody sheds a tear when we crunch them with our nasi lemak. Let's be a pod of dolphins, creatures to be marvelled at, communicated with, studied like a fellow intelligent species; and even if we get clubbed to death by mad Japanese fishermen, at least someone will kick up a stink, rail at the heavens and miss us.

Maybe we don't know how to be excellent. We do have living examples among us, believe it or not. You have to admire the audacity of Fusion Garage CEO, Chandra Rathakrishnan, for launching the Joojoo just ahead of the market-changing iPad, probably against all good marketing sense and advice. If not for comparisons against the iPad, the Joojoo would have been a decent enough device, but Excellence was in the belief and conviction to launch before the gargantuan competition could. And survive.

There's this little 12-year old girl who has just become S'pore's latest world title holder... in yoga, of all things. I'm pretty sure she does just fine in school, but so does everyone else. But watch her through her routine and be amazed at her technique, poise and flexibility. What kind of training does it take to become this excellent? Well, there can only be one world champion at a time, so what can we laggards do to match up?

Obviously, we don't have to match her in her chosen field of excellence. We each have our own fields and our own ways to be excellent there. But even if we don't have any particular talent in any particular field -- and that would be the majority of us -- we can still heed the exhortation of dual paragons of mediocrity, Bill S Preston Esq. and Ted "Theodore" Logan, to simply "be excellent to each other...!" We can at least do that.

Our studies are important, like rice is important. It's our staple and we can't live without it. Excellence is ice-cream with a cherry on top. But you can have it only after you finish your meal. I want ice-cream. I'm sure you do too.

Lost generation needs a smack

Ah, our poor, lost younger generation who know not what they defend. You think too highly of yourselves if you think you are being called upon to defend king and country. 'Tis no ideal, no ideology, no Grand Plan you bear arms for. All the older generation asks is that you see fit to defend yourselves and your home, that's it.

What home, you ask? Remember the people who call you family, those you call your friends? That home. Like family, you don't get to choose whom you live with, though you can choose whom to be friends with. So it's not the place, but the people you share meals with from time to time whom you are defending. It so happens they all have to live somewhere, so yeah, that home.

If you don't know what you're defending, then you perhaps don't think your family and your BFFs are worth defending. You don't think of yourself as worth defending. That's fine. Lots of young people feel the same way. There were the Roman punks chillaxin' in their bounty. Tactically and technologically they had the best army in the world defending them, but the barbarians dropped by and trashed the place anyway, raping, pillaging and slaughtering as they went. What we DO remember of the Romans are the remains of what their forefathers had built... that's about it. Good company, you youngsters keep.

There's only one problem I have with you not knowing what home you're defending. You are talking about MY home too. Could you do an old guy a favour and wait until I no longer have a need for a home on Earth before you toss it away to the barbarians? Yes, the ones who are eyeing all the nice things you kids have 'cos the only way they can see themselves having the same privileges as you is by prying them from your cold, dead fingers. The same ones you are calling out to like a wounded duck calls out to hungry wolves for a swift and merciful end; the ones you are inadvertently inviting home with your legs wide open.

Humour me.

The straw critic

There's a recent trend in GP that so-called 'balance' points get snuck into essays under the guise of reporting the views of the 'critics'. Otherwise, they're called 'detractors' or 'pessimists' or some other appellation.

But who are these critics? What are they critics of? What views do they detract from? Fact is, unless the essayist is targeting a specific criticism held by a known group of people, the critic in the GP essay is a figment of the student's imagination.

It is a convenient device to hang a weak oppositional viewpoint on so that they can assure themselves that they have considered 'the other side'. But once having done so, the better students will offer a counter-counter argument which is irritating, or just forget to deal with the critics' view on the unwritten assumption that they're just critics -- what do they know? Unforgivable!

In most GP essays, the 'critic' is used as a logical straw-man. Bring in some arbitrary, extreme, obscure point and attribute it to some imaginary non-entity. Beat the stuffing out of it, or simply ignore it, it doesn't matter because it isn't real in the first place.

What's real? People who talk to imaginary critics in life are either the delusional homeless or the institutionalized. Whatever has made this batch of students become so crazy?

A small and simple Halloween

I've given up organizing campus-wide Halloween events because the occasion falls during the period when the big kids have finals to study for and the little kids are immersed neck deep in their group projects. If that isn't enough horror for them, I don't know what is.

This year, I kept things really small and simple: host just the drama kids for a little screamfest. There aren't that many of them and they look like they could use a break -- before they get desperate enough to eat each others' brains. And they really don't need any more junk food.

Imagine my surprise when they volunteered to take the event off my hands (along with my hands) and invite the whole world to my proposed do. Ah, such ambition, my little drama kids have. Such hubris.

Have to give them credit -- they did their best. Friday evening, it's back to just us, a small gathering of rowdy revelers gathered 'round yon projector for a seasonally appropriate movie screening.

The faintest of heartbeats

My worst fears are realized. It seems reports of Mr L33t's demise have been greatly exaggerated. The poor fellow's not dead, only irreparably lobotomised. Which is worse. No reason to purchase any further upgrades 'cos everything's working just fine -- except the hard drive which has utterly and completely failed.

As I said, all my important data has been backed up on an external drive, though I've lost everything of value within the past month... sort of being in between backups. But my saved games are probably unrecoverable.

Bought a 1Tb replacement HDD but will have to reinstall everything all over again. Painful. I'll have to replay all my games too! Someone's going to be busy over the December hols.

Alas, poor Mr L33t

A minute's silence for the demise of Mr L33t, who as of this evening refused to boot up. Cause of Death looks to be a general mobo failure, though he also showed signs of clogged air vents and an accumulation of dust on his interior surfaces which house sensitive electronics.

Will attempt to salvage still functioning transplantable parts, but it's time for a serious overhaul, maybe upgrades even. The only thing I hope for is that his hard drive is still intact. Too many personal photos and save games to see wiped clean. Yes, I have backups, but it's inconvenient to restore everything.

Think we're about to experience Mr L33t's third incarnation. That's the thing about PCs that die: they always come back better than they were before.

Wait, where are the animal pictures?

HOT date at the Night Safari's Halloween event.

Before venturing further, we fortify ourselves with Bongo Burgers -- safari themed fast food. The burgers aren't quite the size we remember, but if most people's appetites are anything like June's, perhaps its just as well. Guess who had to finish her leftovers?

The Haunted Village attraction was at the zoo. It's not visible from this pix but behind us the queue to get in here snaked a very long way away. To get to this entrance took about half-an-hour of patient stand-look around-move forward-repeat. Lots of atmospheric sound effects, spooky music and the odd costumed party-goer to keep us company in the meantime.

This bunch of fraidy-cats pushed June and me to the front as soon as we stepped through the creepy entrance. Inside, lots of spooks got their jollies popping up and scaring the bejeebers out of our makeshift party. It's good to travel with a crowd of screamers. People tend to bring their own atmosphere with them.

A close encounter with a spook. I asked for a close-crop, but this is ridiculous.

The other highlight was the spooky tram ride. It's the usual ride around the park to view the nocturnal activities of the animals, but tweaked with a soundtrack and the guide adopting a Monsterpiece Theatre presenter's voice as she nattered through her spiel on lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Could tell she was having fun 'cos this is about the only occasion that she could threaten stubborn flash photogs with a 'poke in the eye'.

Along the way, there were also frequent 'visitations' from our guide's scarier colleagues. Somehow, they know how to pick the screamers. My observation: to avoid becoming a victim of these apparitions, choose a seat directly above the tram wheels. No ghoulie would risk squished tootises for the sake of a shriek. 

Lots of other photo ops at the entrance plaza. The costumed ones are not above sudden acceleration to startle the unwary and pursue the fleeing.

If you're thinking of going too -- there's still this weekend and next -- go early, and don't waste too much time over dinner. We thought we had lots of time but after covering the Gui Mansion, the tram ride and the animal show, it was too late for us to take the walking trail where more surprises awaited us.

Wonder what the tourists thought of this very Asian-themed Halloween celebration?