Planning over morning coffee

To MacRitchie, via Botanic Gardens, 12.65km

There is a water cooler in the hut near the swan lake of the botanic gardens that dispenses really cold water. Absolutely heavenly, in contrast with the monstrous new swan sculpture they've installed in the middle of the lake.

The (real) swans used to look large and elegant in the lake; now, they just look kinda puny and intimidated beside that montrous ugly structure. Seriously, why? Why build an ugly swan structure when you have real live swans to look at? What were they thinking?

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Light vs. Philosophy

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Sad

[Thanks for all the comments... Appreciate the support and encouragement. Am taking the contents of this post out 'cos I went against my policy of not posting details of my work in a moment of recklessness and posted way too much searchable information. Whoops. If anything, I do feel better about things now. Thank you.. :)]

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Sad

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The cows are back! :)

I was in my usual morning spaced-out mode on the bus to work when I looked out of the window, and saw them, in all their floral glory. The cows are back! And this time with baby cows! The original cows (put up one year ago in April 2005) must have intermingled with a floral-printed herd. :)

It made me quite happy, the way only a floral-printed cow can. About that same time, the kindgerten kid beside me started pointing and saying, "Cow! Cow! Cow!" His mother, for some amazing reason, didn't see the cows so she just said reassuringly, "Okay dear..."

Heh. The kindgergarten boy and I have a secret. :)





Technorati tag: cow | singapore

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Will you be my friend?

Writing a blog is just like being in kindergarten. You get to paint a little, take lots of photos, write a little, pretend you're the most important person in the universe, go on excursions to blogs you've never been to before, leave your mark and learn a bit about the world there, do a lot (I mean, a lot) of show and tell, and make a bunch of grimey, frank, and hand-holding friends along the way.

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Blindness, by Jose Saramago

On the recommendation of Eric and Jim, I got the book from the library and buckled down to read it in one obsessive swallow. This is a frightening book, in more ways than one.

Personally, it is frightening because I can imagine all of it coming true. My buddy lost her hearing suddenly and inexplicably in October 2004. She simply turned to me and said, "I can't hear out of my left ear." I only raised my eyebrow and said, "Oh?" The vertigo and the puking and the sickness and the ambulance will come later, but when silence first falls, it falls quietly.

So why should an epidemic of blindess be so unbelievable? Human beings have been at the mercy of plagues, rats, earthquakes, tsunamis, landslides and eruptions to great and terrible devastation. Why shouldn't we become like animals, each for each's own? If the bird flu mutates into a human flu, God forbid, it will spread faster than SARS ever did, but not as fast as terror can infect.

I didn't need any convincing of the believability of the story. Yet Saramago was conscious of his narrative voice, at times trying to justify to the reader the omniscience of the narrator:

From this point onward, apart from a few inevitable comments, the story of the old man with the black eyepatch will no longer be followed to the letter, being replaced by a reorgainsed version of his discourse, re-evaulated in the light of a correct and more appropriate vocabulary. The reason for this previously unforeseen change is the rather formal controlled language, used by the narrator, which almost disqualifies him as a complementary reporter, however important he may be, because without him we would have no way of knowing what happened in the outside world, as a complementary reporter, as we were saying, of these extraordinary events, when as we know the description of any facts can only gain with the rigour and suitability of the terms used. (120)

I found it strange that Saramago was so conscious of being an omniscient narrator when his prose was, how to put it, so fluid. You don't even know where one sentence ends and where one starts, where one person stop talking and another starts, let alone worry about an omniscient narrator. Perhaps his writing style is a metaphor for the common type blindness in society today -- where you see everything, but you never notice anything real; just as the doctor lamented that he spent his career looking into eyes, but never what was behind them. Perhaps the blindness of an entire city was simply to show them what was in their hearts.

Which brings me to the next point. Blindness is also frightening in what it is trying to say about human society. In a way, blindness should not be so terribly delibitating. As Saramago puts it, in the words of the doctor, why should anyone die of blindness alone? One dies of blindness and AIDS, blindness and cancer, blindness and accidents, but should never die of blindness alone! Yet, without sight, with the external world still remaining the same, society falls apart. When you take away our names, our learned habits, our methods of navigating this life, what is underneath? If the chickens scratch away at the dirt in the yard of the "old witch", would they find a decomposing body? When words are lost, all we have is the indent left by the ballpoint pen on paper.

Blindness is a penetrating and blinding gaze into the soul of man, and the celebration of what treasures that can be found within. Definitely worth the read.

Category: Reading

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When I am upset about work

I eat a lot. Today, for lunch I had laksa ($1.80), three pieces of chicken with seeweed ($1), and one cup of iced nescafe mocha ($0.80). Usually I only allow myself only one indulgence every few days. Today I had three at one go. Whoohoo. Belly roll(s) here I come.

I also can't keep still on bus journeys. I fidget and play "snake" on my nokia mobile phone until my eyes go cross-eyed and I feel sick to the stomach. I can't fall asleep either; neither do I have the patience to read; and when I meet a close friend after work, I am snappy and easily irritable.

But it is times like these when the depths of my character is tested. When I feel wronged, exploited, insulted, and I am fuming inside, can I smile at the little sweaty twit boy who bumps into me head-long because he wasn't looking? Can I keep my mouth shut and not gossip about my colleague who has caused me such angst?

Like Jesus says, what is it if you love those who love you? Even the tax collectors do that! (tax collectors in New Testament = very very very bad unscrupulous people) Why why why why why why why why why are the demands of Christ so difficult sometimes?

_must_keep_mouth_shut_.

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Running skirt

Why put up with shorts that bunch up, ride up, and chaff? Wear a running skirt instead!

Identical twins, Cindy and Christy, of runningskirts.com are selling these sweat-wicking, functional, head-turning skirts for the ouchy price of US$48.

In fact they are so good that even the men are wearing it.

(If you would rather have a review not written by a man, Susan of Dallas, TX takes her skirt for a 4-mile spin and posts her review and pics. She looks good eh? Maybe I will be extravagent and buy one for my buddy Smole's birthday.)

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Green bug

I am into visuals recently.

Look at this little green fella I found at my bedside table last night. Isn't he a cutie? :)

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My room

is pink


with stripes above the bed


and i love it!


Pics

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Used up words

I've been cleaning out my drawers, tearing up old love letters and old diary entries; and it is gut-wrenching to have all these mementoes all about me, on yellowing paper, like a life spent foolishly.

It is hard to break up. Words get used up. I used to call someone "dear" all the time; now I have wiped that word from my vocabulary, layering over that set of four letters a different shade of meaning. One day, will all the words in the world be used up? Will I run out of words, of passion, of good intentions?

I have so many letters I don't know where to put them. Perhaps once and for all, I should have a huge bonfire to burn all these used up words, and hope for the best in the ashes.

Do you mean that we have more words than we need, I mean that we have too few feelings, Or that we have them but have ceased to use the words they express, And so we lose them ~ Blindness, Jose Saramago, 292

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Running mantra #1

There used to be a time when a slow run of 4.5km was not worth washing a whole set of sweaty clothes. Now, on a hot and unmotivating 10am run (because I conveniently forgot to set the alarm), I repeat to myself with each footfall: "Something is better than nothing," in between the strains of Mambo Number Five from yesterday's kickboxing class.

"Something is better than nothing."

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Between the green and the blue

The title "Between the green and the blue" has its inspiration from the song "Storm" by Fernando Ortega.

Sometimes it takes a storm
To really know the light
The scent of rain
The weight of clouds
Pulling down the sky
Sometimes it takes a storm
To know how you feel
To understand indigo
And the varnished sun
Lighting up the fields

It takes the rain between the lines to know what sorrow finds
The way a cloud divides sometimes
The clearing and the blue
I love you
I was just passing through
And taken by surprise
Between the black sky
And the blue
Between the black sky and the blue
I love you
I love you

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Amazing Race Asia Update

I don't think we got short-listed. Sigh. I searched technorati for "Amazing Race Asia" 'cos I was curious to know the outcome, and read this post. How to compete with "very fit and gorgeous male models" from India or "very well groomed sexy girls" from Phillipines or folks who "stripped, danced, cried and begged" to be in? More than a third of the applications were shot and edited professionally too. Aiyoh. Aw well. At least I don't have to bungee jump.

It would have been cool though.

Now I'm dying to see the Singaporean pair who made it through.

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A spiffy painting tool

I've just found a spiffy painting tool via tinkertailor's blog: artrage. It is lots of fun and you can use it to make stuff like this:



Of course the pros do things like this instead:



So, really, the possibilities are practically endless.

(Joan, you may like this.)

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Dreams: Digested Thoughts

Dreams have an uncanny way of hitting the bulls-eye on how I am feeling about the day's events. They are more precise and more imaginative than I'll ever be in my waking hours. This was how I felt; this was what I dreamt last night:

I was running a race somewhere in the US. I was running at a fairly determined pace because early on in the race, I had lost sight of my mum and my sis, and so I was preoccupied with finding them.

Suddenly, on a grassy, sunny part of the trail, something hit me hard on the left shoulder. It was one of those remote controlled small aeroplanes. It hit me on the left shoulder through my right, and into my thigh. It was embedded into my clothes the way string is strung on a piece of cloth haphazardly and then puckered much too tightly. My shoulders were puckered together, and my thigh close against my chest, and I could not move.

I slowly extricated the pieces of the aeroplane from my clothes, while the folks operating the remote controlled aeroplane informed me that I had hit one of their "slow" planes. Nobody seemed to mention my bruises, so I half-heartedly told them that I would buy them another plane and ran off.

You know the term "arrowed"? This is "arrowed" with drama. It is the perfect image: I felt like I was doing my own thing when I was suddenly hit by something out of the blue that tied up my hands and feet. It wasn't caused by anyone being particularly malicious, and I manage to extricate myself from the situation by writing an email, in the process somewhat apologising, but not really.

Perfect, isn't it?

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This post will self-destruct

I'm having a shitty day at work. Disgruntled colleague decides to c.c. big boss because he is not happy with a situation (which has since been resolved), and so now the big boss wants to have a "meeting" to make sure everyone knows the "ground rules". Shit lah. Seriously, you should not c.c. emails in the middle of a thread. Not happy, tell me to my face lah! Still not happy, then tell the big boss!

Lesson learnt: know who is picky about what and keep them informed about EVERYTHING, including the colour of the technical boy's underpants, if need be.

Accomplished: my first assertive (and almost sarcastic) email to the big boss and disgruntled colleague.

Arrgh. This is why you neither know my name, or my place of employment, or my job. If you do, please don't breathe a word. Nevertheless, this email is a figment of your imagination and will self-destruct in 24 hours.

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Rainy days and Mondays

always get me down. *croon*

It was hard getting out of bed today, especially since this coming week promises to be, well, eventful.

I miss the long weekend already...

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Risen on Resurrection Sunday

No, the ants have not risen from the dead. That's the stuff my nightmares are made of. This is the stuff hope is built on.

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed. Allelulia!

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Matt 28:1-6
Leader: After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

People: There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it.

Leader: His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

People: The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified."

All: He is not here; He is risen!" Alleluia!

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Thine be the Glory (tune)
Thine be the glory, risen, conqu’ring Son;
Endless is the victory, Thou o’er death hast won;
Angels in bright raiment rolled the stone away,
Kept the folded grave clothes where Thy body lay.
Thine be the glory, risen conqu’ring Son,
Endless is the vict’ry, Thou o’er death hast won.

Lo! Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb;
Lovingly He greets us, scatters fear and gloom;
Let the church with gladness, hymns of triumph sing;
For her Lord now liveth, death hath lost its sting.
Thine be the glory, risen conqu’ring Son,
Endless is the vict’ry, Thou o’er death hast won.

No more we doubt Thee, glorious Prince of life;
Life is naught without Thee; aid us in our strife;
Make us more than conqu’rors, through Thy deathless love:
Bring us safe through Jordan to Thy home above.
Thine be the glory, risen conqu’ring Son,
Endless is the vict’ry, Thou o’er death hast won.

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I love Easter Liturgy!

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Murder on Holy Saturday

I am an ant-killer. An unabashed, vengeful, violent ant-killer. When I stare those little bugs in the eye, murder rises unabated in my heart and I don't just want them dead, I want them dead NOW, in the most quick, violent and horrible way imaginable. Death by drowning, squashing, poisoning, scalding, microwaving are all options, but you've got to be careful about that last option: those little buggers are quite microwave-proof and have the tendency to keep on walking about even after they've been zapped by a million micro waves. The last thing you want is a radioactive ant mating with the rest of your colony. Therefore, the best option is by squashing, but when murder rises in your heart, you'll just do what you have to do quickly (in the famous words of Jesus to Judas).

All this on Holy Saturday too.

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Birthday dinner at the Top of the M

which rotates, and is way way way way more posh than I'm used to.



The night view of Orchard was awesome. Quite an experience actually. One moment you're jostling with the down town crowd and the next, you're high above all the noise in a candlelit room, with live music too.

If anyone's curious, it takes about two hours for a complete round.

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Two-Nine on Maundy Thursday

I woke up this morning and thought: "I am twenty-nine."

It isn't the kind of thought that makes you want to jump out of bed and embrace the day with a big smile, but I got up anyway, brushed my teeth, got myself a coffee and some cream biscuits, sat down and looked out of the window, and in that quiet space, thanked God for another year of life, a year sustained by grace and mercy.

Then I walked out of my room and promptly lost my cool about the mess in the house, the parents and how they want me to be married, the lack of control I have over my dad's bills, the apparent lack of control over my life, etc. etc. etc.

You just can't contain life. :)

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All I really really want

is some $1.20 Nasi Lemak, i.e. rice (nasi) cooked in coconut milk (lemak) with anchovies and peanuts, little mackeral-like fish, sweet chilli, cucumber on the side, wrapped in a banana leaf. Ooh. My black coffee wants some company.

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Pirouettes in the wind

Photo by Eric M. Smith

Everywhere I look today, leaves are falling from trees. My dad and I were sitting at the bus-stop this morning watching the leaves fall, when he said, "I've calculated and considered: the probability of any leaf falling in the exact same path and pattern is zero."

Hmm. Rather thought-provoking for a bus-stop conversation. Well, I've calculated and considered, the probablity of another person going through my motions and thinking my thoughts is as close to zero as it gets. We are all unique. Even our blog posts are unique. I dare say that if you give me any post in any of the websites I stalk without telling me who wrote it, I'll probably get it right 99% of the time.

Life is like a falling leaf, don't you think? You can flutter and do pretty pirouettes in the wind, but ultimately, you know and I know that the ground waits for us.

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How was your weekend?

My room is ______* (Guess colour!)

I had such a lovely weekend painting and re-arranging my room. Now all of my crap is in the living room, but my room looks great. Heh.

This is the first time I'm putting in three colours in my room. The lightest colour is rose white, which really looks just like white with the slightest tinge of beige, and then there is _____* and _____*. So exciting. :)

I'm going home to luxuriate in the newness of my room after work, and maybe put some crunches in (less than 100, unlike 6-pack gal) while staring at my new ______ * wall.

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* It's a surprise!

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The answer to the riddle

Recap:

A little boy ran to his father in a fluster and yelled, "Gong Gong gong gong gong gong gong Gong Gong gong Gong Gong gong gong." And immediately his father ran out of the room. What did the boy tell his father?

Clue:
Gong3 Gong3 gong4, "gong4 gong4 Gong3 Gong3!" Gong3 Gong3 gong4, "Gong3 Gong3 gong3 gong2."

Answer:

Gong3 Gong3 gong4 - Grandpa says
gong4 gong4 Gong3 Gong3 - container hit Grandpa
Gong3 Gong3 gong4 - Grandpa says
Gong3 Gong3 gong3 gong2 - Grandpa giddy

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Your morning dose

I know it is only a matter of time before you guys get sick of looking at what I'm eating for breakfast, but hey, it is better than me ranting for a good half page. This isn't even a particularly good picture and I would take another one except I can't because I ate it all up already.

Can you see the steam from my coffeecup? Cool eh? Today's breakfast: Kopi-O (black coffee with sugar), freshly baked jiam tao luo ti ("sharp head bread", or simply, french loaf) with melted cheese and a dollop of butter. Ooh. I can't get the cheese to melt enough without the bread burning though, as you can tell from the photo.

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For my conscience's sake

If you've come to this blog looking for the answer to whether you can eat pencil shavings, smoke pencil shavings, or whether the pencil demon is evil, or if I've written a poem on falling pencils, or what the density of pencil shavings is, the answers are no, no, no, no, and I don't know.

And, more appallingly, to the incredibly large number of you who come by here searching for any combination of "mole string tie remove" and land up at this post, my advice is: DON'T DO IT!

That's all, thank you very much.

P.S. I've added a clue for the wednesday morning riddle. Go solve!

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Breakfast

Everybody ought to have a photogenic coffeecup.

Ok ok, here is a wednesday morning riddle.

A little boy ran to his father in a fluster and yelled, "Gong Gong gong gong gong gong gong Gong Gong gong Gong Gong gong gong." And immediately his father ran out of the room. What did the boy tell his father?

Clue:
Gong3 Gong3 gong4, "gong4 gong4 Gong3 Gong3!" Gong3 Gong3 gong4, "Gong3 Gong3 gong3 gong2."

Answer

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My plan this evening

Better to aim for the sky and fall on the trees, than aim for the trees and fall on the ground. Wish me luck. :)

Update: Oh my goodness, what a lovely lovely lovely run. I only ran about 8.5km and I did it fairly slowly, but it was one of those zen runs. Usually I fret about the distance and time and how lousy I'm feeling, but today, I felt like I was made to run! It was a combination of factors I think: the kopi kosong I gulped down before the run, the mental preparation, the cool weather, starting slow, and a new route. It is runs like these that make all the rest worth it. One day I will do the 10.2km above.

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YTF?

Yong tau foo

Or perhaps you were thinking of something more philosophical?

Yong tau foo is probably one of the healthiest meals you can get at a food court in Singapore. You choose a minumum of 7 pieces from a selection of tofu, ladies finger lady's finger (okra), all kinds of green vegetables like kang kong (water convolvulus), xiao bai cai, cabbage, cuttlefish, tau kee, tau kwa, tau pok (all tofu derivatives), fishballs, green chilli with fish in it, etc. etc. Then you choose whether you want noodles (what kind?) with your selection, and if you want it in soup or dry. It tastes best with the the sweet and spicy dip, but that makes it that much less healthy. Yum!

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Sound editing shareware

I am such a leech when it comes to using free audio editing software. I used to use Cool Edit, until it got bought over by Adobe. This last month, I've downloaded Wave Pad, Record Pad, Audio Editor, and now, Audio Converter. Really, I only download so many because they expire on me and so I need to use something else to do my cutting and fading and what-nots. I don't require very much fanciness. Why couldn't simple editing functions be bundled with Microsoft Media Player or Real Player? It would save me so much downloading, installing and uninstalling.



(If any one cares, Cool Edit is really good, but you can't download for free anymore. So far, WavePad works great for me.)

(Why why why why why why why why why did I embed the narration into the powerpoint????)

(If you were stupid like me and embedded your narration in the presentation and ended up with too much of a pause in between sound clips, you could get rid of the unwanted pause at the end of the sound clip by specifying the exact number of slides each sound clip is to be played. If you inevitably cut off the narration, lengthen the time under "slide transition", "automatically after". I still haven't figured out how to get rid of the pause in front of sound clips. You would think that increasing the "play from [time]" would do it, but it doesn't.)

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Monday morning attitude

I am only 2% more dissatisfied with my job than Jim, but he quit his job.

Your Job Dissatisfaction Level is 50%

Well, you don't have the worst job in the world, but it's not great. And don't worry, you're not the problem - your company is. Start looking around for another job, even if you're not totally fed up. Because in time, you're going to be dying to quit!

Should You Quit Your Job?

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A tiny moved blip

Tetanus has made the big move from blogspot to wordpress. It looks good! It has categories and all. I'm tempted to move too, just so I don't have to do this everytime I want to categorise, but I probably won't, the change-resistor that I am.

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Christ in my rising

If "Christ below me" makes me cringe, "Christ in my rising" makes me smile. Sung right after "Christ in my sleeping, Christ in my sitting", "rising" refers to Christ being there when I wake up from my sleep. These three lines remind me that Christ watches over me all the time, whether I'm sleeping or sitting or waking up.

Christ beside me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me, King of my heart;
Christ within me, Christ below me,
Christ above me, never to part.

Christ on my right hand, Christ on my left hand,
Christ all around me, shield in strife;
Christ in my sleeping, Christ in my sitting,
Christ in my rising, light of my life.

But the word `rising' also alludes to the resurrection: the final rising from the dead. This is the wonderful news: the grave no longer has power over us! And it is because of Christ that we will be raised!

Frankly, I think it is easy not to believe in an afterlife. The reason most of us feel like an afterlife ought to exist is because we simply cannot imagine ourselves or our loved ones not existing. Yet, wasn't there a time when we were not? I was born in 1977. Where was I in 1940? Do I have any recollection of that time? Therefore, since I did not exist in 1940, it is just as easy for me to believe that I won't exist in 2077. Experience proves it.

But I don't know if I want to trust my experience in this case. I don't know if I really want to believe that this is all to life: a brief candle flame, signifying nothing. I don't know if I want to believe that the coffin is the be-all and end-all of everything; it just seems so pointless.

So I choose instead to have faith in the words of Jesus:

Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.

Sometimes the future is scary. I bought a savings plan that will mature in 25 years. In 25 years, I will be 53. Will my parents still be around then? That scares me. So much that I will probably find it hard to sleep tonight. But somehow I must find comfort in the promise that God will always be there, from cradle to grave to whatever is beyond.

Is this all just wishful thinking? I don't know. I suppose that is why they say that faith is evidence of things unseen.

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Christ below me

This is a prayer by St Patrick to the tune of "Morning has Broken".

Christ beside me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me, King of my heart;
Christ within me, Christ below me,
Christ above me never to part.

Christ on my right hand, Christ on my left hand,
Christ all around me, shield in strife;
Christ in my sleeping, Christ in my sitting,
Christ in my rising, light of my life.

I don't know about you but every time I get to the line "Christ below me", I cringe. How can Christ be below me? It is as if I am the one trodding on the fumie, the image of Christ (See Silence, by Shusaku Endo). It feels disrespectful, and so I quieten my voice when I get to that line.

It bothered me for a few days and then I kept thinking about the phrase over and over again. And then it struck me: the phrase reminds me that the people under me at work, the people who serve me in restaurants, who clean my table, and remove my trash is Christ to me. Jesus says that when you feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit the prisoners, you are actually doing it for Christ!

If you have been given position and status in life, you have to serve. The image is of Christ on a donkey. That is like a CEO on one of those black ah-pek bicycles with cases of cardboard tied at the back. Not exactly glamorous transportation. It is not at all easy to be a servant -- in fact, Jesus says that it is harder for a rich man to enter heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle (lots of camel references in the New Testament, you noticed?). But we've got to at least try.

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Kick!

(pic from ultimate rebound)

Have I told you that I’m in a kickboxing class? We are in the eighth week already and it is lots of fun. Somehow, punching, kicking and bobbing to music gives me a high. These are the top ten things I’ve discovered:

1. Only females sign up for kickboxing.
2. Crunches are from hell.
3. But they give you abs of steel. (Or at least abs of steel disguised under fat.)
4. Smole and I look idiotic doing the upper-cut.
5. Actually, everyone in the class looks idiotic doing the upper-cut.
6. Everyone, except the instructor, who looks really cool all the time.
7. I want to be like her.
8. But I can’t, because
9. I desperately need a tan, and
10. I have no co-ordination to speak of.

Now all I need to do is to muster my courage to ask our instructor if they have classes where they actually have something for you to punch; that would make me so happy!

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