* Kanpai!

Underaged drinking? - Summer 1997

Potter Rocks

OK, maybe I'm not strictly referring to Harry per se, but the entire whimsical wizardry world of his. What a neat place to be in, despite having to deal with sweaty nightmares and actually having to duel with the-one-who-shamelessly-calls-himself-the-dark-lord.

I bet it is anyone's fantasy world... Well, except those self-declared 'mature adults' with eyes only for a trilogy of some lousy ring. Haha, I'm being spiteful here, but no offence. As long as you keep your insults to yourself, I'll keep mine too, until I get down to actually reading the first LOTR novel that is lying in dust somewhere in my broom-cupboard bedroom.

Now, back to Harry and his friends. My one single big thought about this latest movie episode is on dear old Albus Dumberdore. So, the original actor passed away and they had to cast some other guy, but certainly there is some kind of quality control, you'd think?! I was certainly quite taken back by the loud, aggressive, and even...somewhat...dark (gasp) Dumberdore. What happened to the kind, gentle old principal we knew him to be? I cannot help but think this new identity is a big secret waiting to be uncovered. Maybe Dumberdore has been possessed? Maybe he is some bad guy taking lots of polyjuice potion? Maybe Sirius in disguise? Or maybe... I don't know, this old guy just unsettles me.

But anyway, let's forget about that and move on to wonderful younger beings. Ah yes, my personal favorite - Nerville Longbottom. Cute name, cuter boy. I thought the bits on his love for dancing were really sweet. Plus, for a supporting role, he had really earned some good airtime there. Oh man, I just love guys who dance.

Next, George and Fred. Man, I love twins as well. Mischievous twins, how wicked is that? I absolutely dig the scene when both of them mimicked Ron's dance with Professor McGonagall, in synch no less!

And the adults? Hmm, Snape and MadEye Moody comes to mind. Snape, for his sleeve-drawing performance, and Moody, what can I say. Disguise aside, if I've had a teacher like him, I would darn well be President Scholar of my year. Well, no time for regrets, I'll just strive to teach like him, minus the transfiguration. What do you say, my students???

I've just looked. Can't find the LOTR novel. Guess I'll just settle for a re-read of my Potter series. Hmm let's see...where are the books? " Now, accio!"

One Wedding and A Funeral

November 12, 2005 - the day two capable, intelligent and good-looking friends finally tied the knot of matrimonial bliss.

November 13, 2005 - the day a friend's granny passed away unexpectedly.

Such is life. Life that is determined by what we set out to do at times, but also one that is beyond our control most other times.

For me, that was a tiring week. I had experienced anticipation, excitement, joy, contentment and some very touching moments. Then just one day later, a whole new set of emotions - grief, sympathy and pain.

I shared Huayimm and Damien's happiness because I was made part of the celebration. From brainstorming ballroom design ideas to making wedding invites to being emcee for their wedding dinner, every moment was one of infectious love and beginning. You have to try very hard not to feel it.

But on the other hand, I did not know Sam's grandma. Yesterday at the wake, I saw her photo for the very first time. There wasn't alot of activity. Family members chatting in small groups and attending to the rituals in a matter-of-factly way. It was hard to imagine that just two days ago, a funeral was the furthest thing on their minds. However, despite the untelling scene, I just had to take one look into Sam's eyes to feel her loss. No living person can ever hide the pain of death.

Just as no one should ever hide the happiness of life.

To Huayimm and Damien, maybe you be happy always.

To Sam, get happy real soon. You know Grandma is happy where she is now.

Comeback

Exams are finally over, well almost...the last one is tomorrow but frankly, I don't quite care. I'll be goofing around for the next seven weeks with no work, no school, no nothing. Life is good to me.

Frankly, being set free from mundane routines took some getting used to. For the first time in a long time, I felt so weird having nothing to do. Boredom quickly set in and since most of my close friends were either not in town, feeling ill, or had datelines to meet, I was soon texting almost everyone I could possibly think of, seeking to "reconnect" with some long-lost people out there.

It's strange how your brain doesn't quite work when freed from stress. For the past few months when I had tons of assignments and exams piled in front of me, I lamented endlessly about my lack of time to blog. But when I had all the time in the world and needed something to do, I forgot that I had a blog to write. Duh.

So, I hereby declare that I shall and I will start writing again. For all my good fans out there, thanks for the long wait. I am back.

Thank You for the Music

Dedicated to my steadfast piano for being at my side for more than 20 years, which I had constantly neglected, which I had almost ingratefully forgotten about. Recently, I've started playing music again, and rediscovered the joy that it had always given me. Thank you, Mr. Piano. Thank you for the music.


Mr. Piano

Old Dusty Mister Dark Wood Piano
Stands proudly upright
Bravely stoic
Deadly still
In its own silent shadow

Like a heavy tomb door sealed with grief
The dark wooden lid
A little warmed
Gently loved
By a cat soundly sleeping

He longs for some music
A heartfelt sonata
But the only sounds he hears
The rhythmic purrs
As the cat coils in tighter

Quietly determined is Mr. Piano
Keys and pedals lay await
For the lid to be lifted of its sadness
And a slightly off-pitch tune is played
Once again someday

A New Home

Dear readers,

I've created a new blog specially for my Chinese posts! Well, it wasn't a deliberate move... I had do something for my Photoshop assignment so thought I might as well put my end product to good use. So please go admire my backbreaking piece of creation even if you can't understand those funky Chinese characters, please...please...please...!


親愛的讀者：

為了配合本人雙語創作美少女的優質形象，我徹夜趕工，終於設立了專屬中文作品的全新部落格(blog)！值得一提的是我剛才學會一些Photoshop的皮毛，通宵作出一個我自認超滿意的設計，包括文案都是親筆寫的哦！所以請各位阿姐阿哥踴躍支持... 感恩啦！

Update Jan 10, 2006: My Chinese blog had since moved and been republished. Please refer to 'Links' to access it.

I'm Sorry Peter...

On this very blog just barely 3 days ago, I had professed by undying love for my Creative Neeon MP3 player adoringly nicknamed Purple Peter.

These days, however, it seems that love doesn't run very long, especially when there is a strong 3rd party contending for attention. Apple had won me over with their latest Ipod Nano. I've decided to end my relationship with passe Peter. Soon.

Like one freshly in love, I just have to tell you how excited I am about this new affair. It's incredible. Have you quite seen anything like that?!! It is black magic in the techno-gadget world. Totally freaky, but ultimately captivating.

I'm craving, I'm lusting for you, Nano!!!

Waxin' Lyrical

I know someone's bound to complain, but I really can't help it. I know posting song lyrics is not exactly a creative process, but it's the best I can do for now. It has been a bit of an overkill for my poor skull lately, as forgotten datelines for essays and projects suddenly pop back up in my little tattered calender of events.

To summarize, the only free time I've left to do better things is that spent on public transport. And of course, please don't forget that on the top of my list of better things, is sleeping. Yes, I've perfected the Art of Zzz-ing on trains. No drool, no head-banging or any form of sound-effect at all. Indeed, I've progressed alot from my leaving-backpack-imprints-on-face days. Not that much of a feat at all if you consider my passionate devotion of almost 4 hours daily to public transport.

But of course, being industrious as I usually am, this 'quality' time is not only spent on my favorite sport (sleeping, I mean). Let me now introduce you to my faithful spouse of 3 months - Purple Peter - named after a Smurf song I learnt some 20+ years ago. Peter is actually my Creative MP3 player, and yes he is colored.

The reason I love Peter so much is because he has so much in him - all that I like, quite almost all that I want. Well, it wouldn't be anyway else since I AM the person loading mp3 files into him. Duh.

So my intelligent friend - you, should have figured by now that I am basically doing five things everyday. Sleeping, commuting, attending classes, doing homework and listening to music - in all forms of overlap. Actually, make that six things. Recharging my MP3 player counts as a time-consuming activity too... ask Creative.

In conclusion, be thankful that you still get to read lyrics.

Of Death, Doom and Desperation

I'm adversed to sadness. Sadness-anything except for this old favorite which I would, ironically, listen to just to bring a tear to my eye.

Knockin' On Heaven's Door

(Bob Dylan 1973)

Ma, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Ma, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

Which Cartoon Character Am I?

A rather lame quiz which I bravely attempted despite having tons of work waiting to be done tonight.

You are Bugs Bunny.

You are fun, friendly and popular. You are a real crowd pleaser. You have probably been out on the town your share of times, yet you come home with the values that your mother taught you. Marriage and children are important to you, but only after you have fun. Don't let the people you please influence you to stray.

P.S: If I stray, it's SOMEONE ELSE'S fault.


What Fruit Am I?

You have selected peach.

Like a peach, you enjoy the juice of life in all its lush ripeness! You are the friendly sort, and are quite frank and outspoken, which adds to your charm. You are quick to forgive and forget, and value friendships highly. You have an independent and ambitious streak that makes you a real go-getter. You are the ideal lover, fiery and passionate but sincere and faithful in love. You don't however like to display all that passion in public.


And Yet Another Quiz Reveals... Curiously Accurate Results

Introspective . . . Sensitive . . . Reflective
You come to grips more frequently and thoroughly with yourself and your environment than do most people. You detest superficiality; you'd rather be alone than have to suffer through small talk. But your relationships with your friends are highly intensive, which give you the inner tranquillity and harmony that you need in order to feel good. However, it is no problem for you to be alone for extended periods of time without becoming bored.


And Another

Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing and always interesting; someone who is constantly the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to your head. They see you also as kind, considerate and understanding; someone who will cheer them up and help them out.


More...

1. You are attracted to those who are: unbridled, untrammeled, free.
2. In the process of courtship, the approach that would make you feel irresistable is: creative, never boring.
3. The impression you would like to give to your lover: stylish.
4. What you hate most in your partner: ruthlessness, cold-bloodedness, irony.
5. The kind of relationship you would like to build with your partner is : both of you can talk about everything and anything, no secrets kept.
6. You care about the society and morality, you won't do anything wrong after marriage.
7. You are afraid of marriage, you think it would take away your freedom.
8. At this moment, you think of love as a committment for both parties.


Last One, in the Good Name of Procrastination

You are an artistic type. Daydreaming is your hobby, but you can achieve what most other people cannot. You are lacking in dedication, but you will work tirelessly towards goals which are to your liking. Money is NOT important. Friends are but only intellectuals and fellow artistic types. You make the best sex partner (!!! Really?? Wow, I'm starting to impress myself...) as you are most willing to explore and please the other partner. Talent is your main strength.

Ooh laa laa...

Now time to get back to work. Pity.

Finally...

... an article I can shove in the faces of those who give me the incredulous look when I tell them I went to Macalester College. A typical conversation like this usually follows...

"It's Macalester... A liberal arts college."

"Huh? Mac- what? You studied art??!!"

"Ma-ca-les-ter, in Saint Paul. And no, I did not major in Art. 'Liberal arts is not 'art' as in painting and drawing."

"Oh, St. Paul? Where's that?? Italy???" (Totally ignoring my liberal arts explanation.)

"Umm no, actually it's in Minnesota. Near Minneapolis. You know the Twin Cities?"

(Puzzled-But-Don't Think-I'm-Dumb-Or-What-Coz-I'm-Quite-Sure-I'm-A-Genius Look) "Sounds vaguely familiar...Is it in Greece?"

"It's in USA."

"Ohhh yessss!!! I knew it sounded familiar."

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America's Hot Colleges
Yes, Harvard's on the list. But so are lesser-known schools. Here are our picks for the places creating buzz for 2005-06.

By Jay Mathews
Newsweek

HOTTEST FOR LIBERAL ARTS

Macalester College, St. Paul, Minn.
The 1,900-student campus in the middle of a vibrant metropolis has become a key recipient of the growing number of Harvard, Yale and Princeton applicants who are rejected for no other reason than that those schools don't have space for all the A-plus applicants. Macalester has one faculty member for every 11 students and an emphasis on international affairs, symbolized by one of its most famous alumni, U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan. The college has six language residences: Chinese, French, German, Japanese, Russian and Spanish. It offers the intimacy of the archetypal small-town campus—in the middle of the Twin Cities. Applications have increased 60 percent since 1995.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Certainly, it pales in comparison to NUS's No. 18 in The Times - World's Top Universities Ranking. But then again, a liberal arts college isn't a university, is it? And thank god for that. I meant, NUS has to really thank its god for that. :P

Oh man, I just love my funky college.

Lord of the Lians

"Lady of the Lians" would be a more appropriate title, but it doesn't quite effect the same pompousness, which is the whole point of being a true Lian.

In case you feel 'ah-lian-nated' by this choice of topic, let me reassure you that we are all related, in one way or another, to the mighty influential Lian clan. Let me prove it to you:

1) You are a Lian.
2) You are Lian's sister, Huey.
3) You like Lian(s).
4) You like Lian's sister(s), Huey(s).
5) You like both Lian(s) and Huey(s).
6) You are a Beng, and have a sister, Lian.
7) You are a Beng, and have a sister, Huey, who has a friend, Lian.
8) You are a Beng who has no sisters, but got a brother, Seng, whose girlfriend is a Lian.
9) You are a Beng who has no sisters, but got a brother, Seng, whose girlfriend is a Huey and in turn has a sister, Lian.
10) ...(are you sure you want me to go on?)

Better yet, if you come from Malaysia, you automatically qualify for the prestigious citizenship of the Lian-Bang-dom. **Lian Bang, in Chinese, literally means united states or federal (as in the former Federation of Malaya), and now colloquially used to refer to Malaysia. Hmm, come to think of it, since USA is literally translated to be Mei Guo Lian Bang, US citizens are technically Ang Moh Liew Lians too.

Fellow Singaporeans, do not gloat yet, for even if you do not fall into any of the above categories, there are other signs telling of the Lianster in each one of us.

For example, see if you fit into any of the following:

Your nails are painted in assorted designs and colors. - The Polished Lian
You swear, or are always on the verge of swearing in Hokkien. - The @#$% Lian
You have red or golden streaks in your rebonded hair. - The Laywid-Gan Lian
You and your close gal friends agree to wear similar 'identity clothes' when going out. - The Groupie Lian
You smoke, check yourself in the mirror, and talk on your cellphone at the same time. - The Multi-Tasking Lian
You hang a thousand dangling things on your handbag. - The Ling-Ling-Long-Long-Lian
You say 'Or-Kay' instead of O.K. - The 'Leceived Plonowciation' Lian
You die die must speak slang Engrish even if it ends up sounding like Hainanese. - The Pretends-to-Come-from-L.A.-But-Actually-From-L.A.S-(Lorong Ah Soo) Lian
You are a member or frequent patron of KBox. - The Idol/Superstar Lian
You buy thick metallic bracelets for yor boyfriend. - The Luv-My-Beng Lian
You know the lyrics to any songs by Ritchie Ren, Andy Lau or Spice Girls. - The Top-Hits Lian
You wear mini skirts with platform shoes. - The Hiao Lian
You still wear platform shoes!! - The Passe Lian
The Jacky Wu Show and/or The Simple Life are/is your staple TV diet. - The Tellywood Lian
You frequent nightspots along Mohd Sultan Road or worse, the Chinatown area. - The Get-Drunk-and-Get-Laid-by-Beng Lian
You think a car with a spoiler and F1 decals is cool. - The Initial-D Lian
This Fashion and/or Tommy Hilfilger are/is one of your favorite labels. - The Outlet/Lesigner Lian
Your dream guy rides a loud and fast bike. - The Wind-in-my-Hair-Hands-Around-Beng Lian
You had worn your school uniform such that skirt is super short and the belt is super low. - The Start-Young-In-Convent Lian
You can say all the five Ws. (No! Not 'where', 'when', 'why', 'what', 'who' lah!! The correct answer should be 'wah lao', 'wah piang', 'wah seh', 'wah l_n' and 'wah lamak'.) - The Linguist Lian
You resolve to memorize these pointers to perfect your style. - The Understudy Lian
You ask, "To Lian or not to Lian?" - The Philosophical Lian
You possess all the above qualities but just do not believe in this crap. - The Cynical Lian
You are too high-crass to believe in this crap. - The Hao-Lian
You are Lian and lovin' it! - The Bu-Yao-Lian

The list continues infinitely...

And how do I come up with so much nonsense?

Wah raos, I'm the Lord of the Lians mah!

Professional Procrastinator

Gee, I'm really getting good in my trade. You'd even think that I had a PhD in the arena.

The truth is, it's inborn talent.

Here I am, in front of my PC-dearest, with an empty Word document opened in preparation of some sort of input to an essay that I set out to do 2 weeks ago. And in front of my keyboard is yet an Educational Psychology textbook flipped randomly to a page that says, quite tauntingly, "the effective teacher..."

Along with notes and project guideline handouts strewn across the floor beside my workstation, this tiny mountain-load of work had managed to send a weak pang of guilt and a teenie bit of anxiety to my otherwise very un-enterprising heart.

Even so, I was determined to live up to the good name of Professional Procrastinator. At exactly 2:25am on this uneventful Tuesday morning, when my entire MSN Messenger list retired to bed leaving me with no one to practise the Art with, I had to settle my emotions, collect my thoughts and envision my next step. I start blogging.

Man, I'm good. Me think I should receive honorary mention for my unsurpassed accomplishment at the next National Day Speech.

Yawn...I'm tired. Let's just close that empty Word document, ya?

Sorry Wrong Number

Two date invitations in a month. I took a double-take each time and looked left, right and about me before asking, "Me? You sure you got the right person?"

I don't know what's wrong with me. Suddenly, boys take interest in me. Could be the current alignment of planets, but I'd prefer to think that I am 人見人愛,車見車載...

If you, my friend, think that's good news, let me re-emphasize:

"Suddenly, boys take an interest in me."

Not men... not guys... but BOYS. Boys who were still in their PAP kindergarten uniform when I took my PSLE.

Gosh. I'm attracting the wrong age group. Think I'd probably be less distressed if they were lesbians. But boys, I can't handle. You know why? Coz I'm thinking, why the f*** didn't this happen to me when I was still a GIRL??!! That is so not a happy thought.

If I've had the right address, I would definitely write in to the Ministry of Love to complain:

Dear Minister,

I would like to bring to your attention that, very much to my disappointment, the service rendered by your staff was extremely unsatisfactory. The cupid-in-charge of my district had processed my CSM (Come Shoot Me) application 10 years too late. As I have suffered major physical and emotional damages due to his negligence, I expect to be duly compensated for my precious time lost and lack of suitors over the last decade.

Please look into the matter and I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours sincerely,
Irrate Single

You laugh, but personally, I think this is tragic. I've done my best to look wise and mature beyond my tiny 1.48m frame, but I fail miserably. Even my latest investment - a pair of copperwire spectacles does not seem to work. To add salt to injury, the optician charged me student rate.

As a final attempt, I shall make an appeal on my blog:

To all my fans out there (only two, actually...), Auntie think you boys are really the cutest, but aunties really prefer uncles.

Updated 12/07 - Come to think of it, no I do not prefer uncles, thank you very much. Younger guys are very much welcomed. Just try not to be cuter than me, please.)

And I Return

Hypewriter makes a comeback after a hiatus of, uhm, 3 long months.
And now, finally, the day anxious fans have been waiting for...

Date of Worldwide Release: 1st August 2005
Pre-order your copy at a nearest kopitiam, chaphuaydiam or pozuatua near you now!

OK lah, I'm joking. I just have nothing to write about and I'm not going to do a *peanut/kidney/salary article simply for the sake of doing one.

* Singaporeans will know what this is about. For the uninitiated, let's just say that it is a socio-politica-lexica issue involving an ex-Mrs-someone-very-important using the wrong word to describe the wrong wage that was paid out to a wrong guy who spent it on very wrong things and then wanted to wrong the press for reporting him, such that the public is feeling oh-so-very wronged. Get it now?

Blood Type B – The Hunter

Type B's are:

- individualists
- dislike custom
- strong
- optimistic
- creative
- flexible
- wild
- unpredictable

Famous B’s
- Akira Kurosawa
- Paul McCartney
- Mia Farrow
- Leonardo Di Caprio
- Jack Nicholson

In other words, I am selfish, wayward and aggressive, and by the way, also clueless, do many useless things and have no mind of my own. Gee, I happen to be uncivilized and very fickle-minded as well...

Wow, on behalf of Akira, Paul, Mia, Leonardo, Jack and myself, I must really thank whoever wrote this. We are so goddamn flattered!!! B'ers RULE!!!

And now, I am convinced I belong in Hollywood.

What's with the New Blog URL?

Questions, questions, questions...didn't I tell you to just read?

All right, if you insist.

Reason 1: Previous blog has my full name (as per NRIC, passport, driver's license...) splashed all over, and I figured it'll be tough to keep a low profile should I become suddenly famous, judging on how easy it is to gain fame with a free blog account in Singapore nowadays.

Reason 2: I need a change. I need liberation for bolder writing minus the fear factor (of being sued, being fired, being ignored by neighbors, etc).

Reason 3: To the kids I teach, I'm supposed to be, erm...ideally lah, a commanding presence that strikes unimaginable fear in their teeny weeny hearts. Therefore my students MUST NEVER get to know the real me behind my mighty teacher persona. Otherwise, how to act tough in front of those little monsters, you tell me?

Case closed.

* Ready to go somewhere?

I am...

Danshui, Taipei
Summer 2006

Let the Dice Roll!

A lighthearted note from a thinking citizen, on a not-so-lighthearted topic.

Channel U's 9pm newsflash came on while I was surfing away on my PC at the other end of the living room. I had left my TV set on again, mainly for some peripheral sounds to break the lonely silence, and err, perhaps to catch any good shows that might come on. What was I thinking...

Although I do not usually care much for TV news, the newsreader got my attention effortlessly as her voice ringed with importance at every word that she enunciated with gusto. The short bulletin's agenda consisted of mainly the same news that I've already read in the morning papers. However, familiar content aside, something sounded strange to me. I made a quick mental rewind to what I just heard.

It was in Mandarin, and roughly translates as, "Singapore to Build Key Regional Gambling Rehab".

Hmm. If you've been concerned enough about important but boring state affairs to be following the casino episode closely, then surely you might find some inkling of irony in the statement above. Do we want to encourage gambling, or discourage it? Is the rehab a by-product of the gambling industry, or is the casino built to further boost our nation's healthcare pursuits? I suppose the big idea is to attract foreigners to come for an all-in package of sort - spend lots of money, get themselves addicted to gambling, turn to our professionals for medical attention and counseling, then either successfully turning over a new leaf and perhaps start allocating their money to some other businesses in Singapore, or getting itchy fingers once again for the viscous cycle to kick in while we count their cash. Or so I suspect.

Just barely 24 hours ago, our government gave Singapore the green light for an ambitious project to turn Singapore into the new Vegas of the Orient. And now, within this short period of time, newspapers had reported on all the essential issues to be dealt with, followed by more repetition on the TV and radio news. They've basically got everything covered.

The headlines read: "...will ensure 'clean' casino business...will build first-class rehab...will restrict patronage and minimize social ills..." Sounds rather like answers to FAQs often laid out to guide and assure the concerned consumer. It's like as if the decision-makers were thinking, "In case you are wondering, everything is in control."

(General sentiment: Everyone expected the green light anyway, just like how the traffic lights are tuned to surely turn green. In the meantime, the general skeptical public awaits for the red light next to attest to their own good foresight, before eagerly spitting "I told you so"s into the parliament's face.)

So why was I bothered by a simple headline? I reckon it is because, unlike other exciting projects of similar scale, there were no hip-hip-hoorays, no big vision on the better future to be anticipated, not even the slightest excitement felt. Instead, we get constant reminders from mass media on how we can curb this and control that.

First, we will be able to apply for our family members to be blacklisted for entry to the casino, in case they gamble your share of inheritance away. Then, we will impose $100 per entry charge to prevent misers and paupers from winning the rich's hard-earned money. And of course, we must not forget to set up a rehabilitation center, the best no less, to make sure the cash-rich vice-doers have an alternative channel to devote their assets to, come one day when they change their mind about engaging in immoral punting.

Looks like the net has been cast and no fat fish shall escape. Majulah Singapura!

(For the record, I am not for nor against casinos. I am just one of those who enjoy sitting on the fence to watch two camps fight, then shrug and walk away.)


At this juncture, I would like to show my deepest appreciation to all those smart and far-sighted people at Blogger who created the magical 'Recover Post' tool. I committed the unthinkable mistake of clicking on the Publish Post button when my Pay-As-You-Roam internet connection had expired. I hollered in agony and quickly recovered myself, fist in my mouth, to subscribe for more airtime. I was all resigned to my ill-fate and ready to rewrite my post above when I realized that I can recover everything with a click of the mouse. Unbelievable! I've found the will to live, once again.

Mess Queen Reigns

I am doing the long-overdue spring-cleaning which should have been done more than 2 months back. Well, I suppose it's alright to do it in April since it is technically still spring time, now that I've all the time in the world.

You cannot imagine how much junk and unidentified objects I've accumulated over the past one year. Actually, I am not quite sure myself, as I am still in the process of uncovering much of it in between TV, blogging and tea-break. Seems like I have to do this every now and then, since my yearly resolution of shopping less and keeping my home neat and tidy had never been fulfilled. Not even once. I have eventually came to terms that I will just have to be Mess Queen for the rest of my life. Title retained for the 28th consecutive year.

My friends, now you know why I never ask you over for dinner.

LV Bags and Me

Anyone who is over 14 years old and knows how to spell the word 'fashion' would be able to understand my blog post title. But in case you cannot quite figure it out yet, LV stands for Louis Vuitton, as in the really-quite-expensive-but-everybody's-carrying-it-I-wonder-if-they're-fake designer brand.

So, what about LV bags and me? Not obsession, not envy, just sadly, my ill-fated lack of destiny to ever be toting one, be it LV, Prada, Fendi or any other incredibly pricy brands ever known to mankind.

I made an astute observation that there are three types of bag carriers in this world. The No-Branders, the Buy-Branders, and the What?-Branders. I belong to the first category of consumers who are less sensitive to 'excellent craftsmanship' and appreciative stares from the masses.

But wait a minute. That does not mean that I am any less fashionable or less shopaholic, although I once commited a dreadful fashion faux pas by carrying supermarket plastic bags onboard a business class flight (but let's forget that, shall we?). It's just a matter of different personal perspectives of cost effectiveness.

Quoting a close friend of mine (Carmen, that's you) who summarized all Category 1-ers' stand, "It's not that we cannot afford it; it's just not worth it." Well-said. No offence to the Category 2-ers who have impeccable taste for good things, we merely place importance to different things. Carmen would probably blow $5K to get herself a Cartier watch, and I, on travel.

But bags. Hmm...I take a minute to ponder. Imagine if for some strange twist of fate, Chinese or Korean designers, instead of Italian ones, made it to the international bag scene, there wouldn't be any LVs around. Instead, we might get initials like BBQ and HIV on our bags (for designers Bao Bing-Quan and Hae-Im Vong respectively, whatever they might mean). So, in that same aspect, why would I want to go around carrying a bag that has some guy's initials all over? Geez, no thanks.

(* In retrospect, maybe I would, if that guy is some terrific fellow. For instance, Marc Jacobs, whose designs shot LV to fame while he struggled to contain his impulse to put his own initials 'MJ' all over the bags instead. But then again, I don't want to carry a bag that might mislead others into thinking that I dig Michael Jackson.)

So there, I'd probably never ever be aquainted with any high-fashon bags. But in case you ever catch me with one, it could be a gift, or that I changed my mind about having people's initials on my belongings. Just try not to think 'fake'.

* Good Ad - Love Thy Pet

Something to think about...

My Chinese Sentiments Exactly

A reliable source confirmed my suspicion that about 1.3 billion Chinese comrades will not be able to access my blog, all thanks to the almighty Great Firewall of China.
(Update 7 Aug'05: Realized my reliable sources are not so reliable after all. The great people of China CAN access Blogspot. It's a miracle that none of them had left me @#%!#& comments yet. Or worse, no one actually reads my blog. Sob!)

This is no big loss to them really, since I do not expect anyone out of that staggering population to be remotely interested in what I have to say, firewall or not. Especially if you consider the fact that out of this figure, only slightly more than 7% has internet access, and of which only a small minority will understand enough English to keep them interested beyond the titles of my articles.

That is, unless I am 'misrepresenting' China, or discussing Japanese books (history textbooks in particular), or quoting (can I say President?) Chen Shui-bian. In other words, unless I am tired of living, which is not what I am about to attempt to be at this very sane moment.

Never mind that actually, I am just quite glad that I did not eventually choose to relocate to Shanghai, being the obsessive blogger that I have become. I imagine I would be devastated to learn of this only upon reaching the bund, and henceforce resort to numbing myself in bamboo steamers of dumplings. However, I will take a moment of silence to weep for all foreigners in China who have been bereft of the right to freedom in the kingdom of WWW. (Especially with you in mind, Ms. Yip. Leave the dumplings alone!)

So, despite living in a tiny island state which an ex-Chinese colleague once remarked as being too small and boring, and that she could not wait to be back in the great modern Shanghai, AND will thus never ever set her dainty foot on sorry reclaimed Singapore soil again, I am quite happy with the way it is here. At least I can come online freely and read about how other bored bloggers wasted their days.

And before you mistake me as being petty or even vengeful about her comment, I must add that I feel very glad for her. Indeed, now that she is back where she belongs, I am sure she is overjoyed and liberated running amok on the Mongolian plains or climbing one of the sacred mountains, where it is not SMALL nor BORING.

Darn, I forgot she can't read this. Wasted.

* Just a disclaimer that I am not targeting this at the entire PRC population. By good fortune, I've got to know many genuinely nice and appreciative Chinese new immigrants who worked hard for Singapore and have embraced the lion city as their second home. What I cannot accept is the attitude of some exceptions who have absolutely no social ettiquette nor respect at all for others' homeland, Singapore or not. Shame on you.

Inadequately So

Last night, as I sat reading Mr. Monk's blog updates forwarded to me by his fellow Princeton alum, I had solemnly drawn a single conclusion about myself.

I am inadequate.

And the realization sets in stronger with every additional word I read.

I hate to compare, as I truly believe in personal style and fluidity. But sometimes, comparison is not about absolute worth. It is not about being inferior; definitely not about being the lesser nor the fool. It is simply being weighed on a pair of scale and you realize that you are relatively so down there. It really is about someone tracing a visible line around your comfort zone, and you alarmingly realize that it is way too small. So, thank goodness that it happened before you turn claustrophobic in there. Time to space out.

Pardon me for jumping into this turbulent mental journey of reflection. Just like how a tsunami hits the shore, his blog swept me off my feet without warning. Quick and deadly. I am left in a state of semi-shock, semi-awe, and totally inspired.

What is it about this person who had single-handedly deflated my fat writer ego? After all, we had trodden the same academic (and along the way, touristy) path from America to Japan, had equally inspiring karaoke and izakaya moments, and are rather similar in our American-East Asian views. What else could be so impressive and unexpected of someone I thought so familiar?

The value of being still thinking and writing about anything, and everything. At a royal age of 31, yet.

It would probably be less surprising if this is a jolly young undergrad I'm talking about, since we all have our years of being curious and hence terribly energetic and involved. But ten years can do alot to a man, and it is quite disturbing to learn that someone is still obsessively penning personal events and at the same time, engaged in reviewing local and foreign art films, exploring old town charms, expressing views on racial acceptance and historical ambiguity, cataloging travel thoughts, running the usual laps around Central Park, noticing sad synthesized sounds in train stations (whatever that is) and making clever jokes about his own academic career. He has not lost that zest for life.

Sounds exactly like how I want to be.

In some ways, I really dislike being in Singapore, where I have no guts to be different from whom everyone thought they knew I was, no guts to be having it all my own way like how I had it when I lived on my own, thousand of miles away from familiar territory. I've retreated into my former shadow so that I can be marching in step with my peers on the road to 'certified success'.

I sorely dislike the fact that I, now, have zero involvement in anything else than work and can only write about petty, mundane things about myself. I have been subconsciously refraining from passing judgment or making statements on anything more significant than my short, unprolific life. You see, I am becoming more detached with age and I consider that a good thing. Less emotional baggage and more heart to live every moment. No more frustration or anger at social unjust; no tearing my hair out over ridiculous politics or befuddling economics. After all, it's ashes to ashes, as in the Buddha's way to transcendent truth. If I only believed in it.

Alas, I have also become an apathetic bystander at the same time, my head too high in the clouds to feel the nuances and voices of life that surround me. A large part of me is feeling nostalgia for the brash, opinionated and lively self. The old self that I've found in this senpai. O-hisashiburi da.

Tribute to True Friends

There are some people really close to my heart. My parents, my sister and brother-in-law, my close-knitted extended family of crazy uncles, adorable aunts and funky cousins, my cat (alright, so technically he does not belong to the 'people' category, and he is actually my sister's cat, but I love him all the same)...

...And the people who understand me best - my St. Nick's galfriends.

Yenpin, Siewhong, Hweehoon and Huayimm. (Plus or minus newly-titled Mrs. Seah-Ng Aishing. We've lost her to Jonathan years ago.)

On second thoughts, make that Yenpin, Siewhong and Hweehoon. (Plus or minus soon-to-be Mrs. Lim-Poh Huayimm too. Lost her to Damien, alas.)

Talk about casualties of love. We'll talk about these blissful people some other time.

So you see, we are pretty much left with a table of 4 whenever we meet, and it is this same foursome whose lofty ideals and exalted visions are so very much in common that we begin to wonder if we are somewhat a weird bunch. So weird that we turn our weekly casual dinner outings into lengthy seminars (at last count, we ended at 4am in the morning) discussing the same old global/national/personal issues that we have been discussing forever, and feeling more hot-blooded each time. Who knows, had it been the olden days, we might have been mass-burnt to death at the stake.

Maybe this is exactly why we made it through 16 years of very supportive, yet undemanding friendship. Or sisterhood, rather. Also sixteen years of being passionate about life. I am so proud of us all.

May we continue to be best friends.
May we continue to serve our people.
May we continue to believe in our ideals.
May we continue to strive for romantic excellence.
May we continue to contribute to the gross revenue of KBox.

Peace.

Survivor -- Behind the Primary School Gate

The reality of primary school education from the eyes of new teacher who beat the odds to survive the most grueling and challenging race ever...

I am totally flat out at 3:30pm on a Thursday afternoon, unbelievably grateful to be finally home after nine periods of what I think was called 'teaching', and at the same time, sinking deeper and deeper into despair at the thought of being back in school 16 hours later.

From my experience, being Ms. Tan to a class of 35 pre-adolescent rascals in a neighbourhood co-ed primary school (one that admits children from welfare homes, no less) can be potentially live-threatening. It single-handedly tops any other activities that I have ever attempted, to win the dubious honor of being the most exhausting and dangerous.

And by the way, this is only the second day of my ideally-long-and-very-prosperous teaching career.

In case if you think teaching is peasy easy, especially in primary schools, and are wondering what the fuss from us 'incompetent government educators' is about, let me count thy ways:

1) Straight hours of, not talking, but screaming at the top of our voices, usually just to get the children to sit down or shut up.

2) Having to deal with kids who not only do not want to listen, but also constantly do things to disturb their classmates so that any attempt to teach is futile. Examples of the things they do include shouting non-stop like a madman, snatching stationary and chasing each other around the class, walking around the classroom without any purpose or worse, walking out of the classrooms to disturb the students in other classes.

3) Making sure that the noise level is down so that other teachers will not walk over to pass disgusted looks of contempt.

4) Dealing with older foreign students who are either to bored with the syllabus, too shy to speak, or do not understand much English to know what we are talking about. These students are often the ones who will refuse participation, and subsequently get lost in their own worlds while the crazy local kids wreak havoc in class.

5) Not having enough time to get to know students well, nor to give additional attention to the weaker ones, nor even to explain a lesson to someone who had been absent.

6) Having to spark their interest in learning by conducting creative lessons. However, this is not the difficult part. The difficult part is to keep them calm and quiet after we have indeed sparked their interest.

7) Keeping your eyes on what's happening in the classrooms, as well as outside it. Many a times, students will seek permission to go to the toilet only to loiter around and play with students from other classes who also happened to seek permission from other teachers to go to the toilet as well. Sometimes, I wonder if they are part of a bigger syndicate and that they had learnt to synch their watches just like the SWAT team.

8) Trying to be fair and not show any favoritism even though one student is an angel, and the other, clearly a devil.

9) Trying very hard to not laugh when the cheeky ones crack a real funny joke, and having to put a false front and ask what is so funny, sternly in return. (Of course, we are after all human and it is healthy to have a good laugh with the kids. However, it is sane practice not to laugh or even smile AT ALL for the first two months if you want an easy life. Do this at your own peril.)

10) Having to develop a multi-talent ability to teach English Language, Mathematics, Science, Health Education, Social Studies, Art & Craft, Music, PE and God knows what other subjects, not only at the level I am teaching, but also at any levels that I might be required to substitute for in case of teachers being absent.

All these, in lieu of administrative work and other responsibilities which are not required of me at this point of time yet.

So you see, I am totally impressed with teachers who can handle it all, especially those who do it with style.

To teachers out there, I say to you, good job to have lived thus far.

For me, the war is not lost. Although my first days in teaching is much like a surprise attack by the unknown enemy, I am still very much in the battle. All I need is a change of tactics and some medication for my raising BP (blood pressure). The way to longevity in this business, I realized, is to raise your voice and lower your expectations, increase tolerance threshold and decrease emotional attachment. Great. Now I have a perfect plan.

In days to come, I am not sure if I will ever learn to control my class. So maybe I am a little too nice to execute any punishment, a little to short to be considered a fearful figure, and a little to soft to scare with my voice. But I think I like it the way it is. The way I can continue to do my little best to educate these youngsters and chase them for their homework without changing their pesky personalities nor wipe off that naughty cheeky grin. They should be free to play and explore this world with their own minds. What they just need is a mentor. Not another dictator.

Busy Me

It has been a crazy period for me and I never saw it coming. How was I to know that on the very evening of my last day at work, I would receive a brand new task. Oh yeah, and what a task it was.

I was to be (gulp!) a puppy-sitter. All thanks to my dear sister who is determined not to let my free time go wasted. She bought a 3-month old female golden retriever pup and wanted me to help out with it for this transition period. Her name is Lexi and I shall write about her later.

Now, all I want to do is to give an update on my days ahead, in case anyone of you reads my blog for the latest E-news ('E' for Ei-Lin, 'E' for Erika).

1) I will be spending alot of puppy-sitting time at my sister's apartment which, heaven forbid, does not have LAN or cable connection for some heart-breaking reason. I will have to put up with her slow dial-up service and laptop combination for my internet access. Hence, I might either be offline on MSN Messenger/Yahoo! IM, or you'll see me logging in and out alot.

2) I might be writing less in this blog for the time being. I have started another blog on my pending trip to Japan and I will probably be spending all my time doing research and writing about it. Here's the link if you are interested: http://ikooyo.blogspot.com
(Update 6/5/2005 : I've shut the blog for now as there is too much information to organize before posting. Will try to reopen it soon.)
(Updated again 19/7/2005: Not going to happen. I've realized, for the first time in my life, that time is such a luxury. Instead, I will be devoting whatever limited time I have online to the more satisfying activity of paying bills over internet banking. Gee, see how important that little yellow word is to me that I had no choice but use it three times over...)

3) My formal teaching position with MOE starts in July. For the few months from now till then, I will do some relief teaching. The application has been approved, and I will have to call up the schools to find a position. Maybe later. After all, I have not had a single day of proper rest yet!

Alright, I think this is about all that I can muster for now. I need some sleep...

My Love Horoscope Says...

You are pretty persuasive on paper, and quite articulate. But the moment you see you-know-who, you turn into a stuttering mess. Maybe you should put your thoughts in a note.

Why didn't they say this earlier? I could have started sending out love notes 10 years ago. Darn.

Life's Simple Pleasures

A cup of hot tea, some warm bread and a good companion.
That's all you need for a perfect Sunday morning.

Causeway Bay, Hong Kong
Spring, 2005

Ooo, That Lovely Green Dress

I cannot resist hanging the green dress out as the title of this entry.

It was what Brazilian singer Cibelle wore when I watched her perform at The Esplanade Concert Hall last Saturday evening. The minute she skipped barefooted onstage, I whispered to my cousin Yingying, " Wow, I want to know where she bought that dress from."

OK, that was my second impression for the night. The first came from stepping into the concert hall for the first time. It was new, stark and frankly-speaking, quite boring, unlike aged and embellished concert halls in older cities. However, I quite liked it. It was large enough for make an impression, and small enough to feel adequately near to the action on stage. The roof was extended upward for better acoustics I believe, and the reverberation chambers complete the classic 'concert hall' look. And most of all, it carried the bold vision of a culturally apathetic nation toward a new era of artistic excellence. Shame on you if you laugh it off as government bollocks. We have to start somewhere.

Now back to the concert: Cibelle-Brasil Novo. I didn't know what to expect, only being drawn to the performance by pamphlet key words like bossa nova and samba, which I adore for their sexiness in vastly different ways. If music was metamorphosed into woman, bossa would be a quietly forlorn but seductive damsel, and samba would be a hot, energetic and passionate lover.

In the end, I was treated to a hip mix of not only bossa nova and samba, but a whole lot of soul, jazz, electronica and a dash of rock'n roll amidst well-timed comic ditzyness from the hyperactive Brazilian lass, who at one point of time, stopped to take a photo for her band members. She worked her way to the climax with some serious display of vocal prowess and her band's music-making versatility in several Portuguese numbers, then danced in a trance-like manner for English number titled Train, before plunging into the deep dark emotions of 60's classic Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me) for a parting shot.

Cibelle has a wonderful voice and as I later found out, touted to be Brazil's new hot talent equally deserving of kudos lavished on Nora Jones and Diana Krall. She is good in both languages and composes her own songs, which make clever use of studio and stage equipment to create exotic mixes, loops and beats for aesthetically pleasing music. She used two microphones at the same time for different sound effects, and her naked feet worked nimbly at the buttons on her two high-tech toys that did instant makeover of her music. All done while singing and prancing around. You can see that I am duly impressed.

My favorite number for the night was a Portuguese song about drinking. It says "Water is bad for your health". No wonder she was so high the whole time. By the end of the 90-minute concert, I was high too. Too bad there wasn't a dance floor and a water bar. And too bad I never got to ask about that lovely dress.

Jazz Do It

I am a hard-core jazz fan, and to me, last Sunday's 'All That Shanghai Jazz' concert, was simply marvelous.

Save for some distracting lack-lustre vocals from the girls, the nite was an exhilarating musical roller-coaster ride with some of China's best young musicians, including flamboyant male vocalist Coco Zhao Ke.

While improvisation was kept to a minimum, these fresh blood gave grand old Shanghai jazz a refreshing revival through lively and energetic expression, at the same time retaining the Big-Band charm of the golden era.

I particularly enjoyed the rendition of trumpets and violin, which were also clearly the star instruments of the night. However, if you explored a little deeper into the ritzy excitement of the night's music, you will be utterly smitten with the stoic piano performance, and whole-heartedly captivated by the deep soulful pizzicato double bass.

It was a pity that the musicians did not have more solo time to demonstrate their exceptional skills and creativity in improvisions. Perhaps they should cut down on the vocals, as the original Shanghai-style stage singing really did not do justice to such brilliant music-making. The exception being Coco's smooth, strong but sensual voice, which held the whole performance together and made it memorable. I'll give him a standing ovation if I was watching in a warmer audience.

Although Shanghai oldies are familiar tunes to most, jazz is still not widely appreciated in Singapore, and that might account for the lukewarm reception. I noticed a large number of older audience who probably bought tickets without realizing that the oldies were to be done with jazzy, and hence rather offbeat arrangement. I have a feeling they would be left quite unimpressed by the noisy and messy music, while the real jazz-lovers could have missed this fabulous outing due to its Huayi - Chinese Festival of Arts 2005 branding typically associated with traditional Chinese heritage.

Who would have thought jazz is quite so universal?

Lights, Music, Action!

Culturally, my life is on a roll. I am playing on my piano again after a regretful hiatus of almost 14 years, and visited The Esplanade for two brilliant concerts in one single weekend. Somewhere in my brain, specifically the music department (if there ever was one), is now buzzing with neural activity telling me that if I don't feed it with some Do-Ray-Mi soon, I would be lucky to even have a handful of dead cells left in there.

One thing about me is my extremities. I enjoy music. All sorts except for maybe heavy metal, not because I do not like heavy metal, with due respect, but because I would very much prefer heavy metal to be what it really is - you know, not light but heavy, not wood but metal. THAT kind of heavy metal. It's really quite useful, for building ships, making anchors etc. OK, sorry I am digressing...

Somehow, despite my enthusiasm for harmony, rhythm and melody, I find music rather annoying when I hear it incessantly. It gives me a headache. To make it easier for you to understand how my brain works, imagine it to be a radio. There must be a specific time and frequency for me to tune in to music, otherwise it is just but jarring radio static. To me, music is an occasion. An event. A Celebration. Or simply a mood. You simply can't have an event or a celebration or a mood going on the whole while in the background. It has got to be special.

So yeah, I consider my minimal time spent idyllically on my piano bench quite a special event. I'd play my favorite pieces and practise my scales, immersing in the music that comes with every movement of my fingers, arms and body. Best of all it brings me back to my lovely childhood days spent doing exactly the same thing.

To that, I say, " God Bless Music". Or rather, "God Bless the Occasional Music".

Where is My Valentine?

For the umpteenth time, my friends 'gently' reminded me of my swinging singlehood by throwing comments like "you know men so well, I can't believe you are still single", or "there are so many eligible guys around you, I cannot understand why you are not attached".

For crying out loud, me neither.

They offered me explanations such as "you're too clever. Men are afraid of you", and "your expectations are too high", which frankly-speaking, are too nice and diplomatic.

For one, I am not some high-flying Woman of the Year or nobel prize-winning PhD candidate, so there should be no issue on me being too clever. Especially when guys are too stupid and egoistic to realize that anyway. (**At this point, I can visualize guys going, "Us, stupid?", and giving me the dirty look...Haha, Ok lah you are not stupid nor egoistic. Hmm, you are, err... muscular and handsome, can or not?)

For two, my expectations never rose beyond basement carpark level. I know of some girls with expectations to rival Taipei 101 or the Petronas Twin Towers, who are not coincidentally, either blissfully engaged or married.

The only acceptable explanation for my lack of decent suitors, then, is that the right guy is too tied up with earning his first billion now to be romantically involved. Hence my wait. Good things are to come in good time, so let's hope mine isn't the best lest I have to wait forever.

To all you concerned folks out there who have been giving me advice and well-wishes for my love life, thank you and I do hope to repay your kindness with good news soon. However, I do not think I am ready to toss my hair and bat my lashes at any man. Quoting a gal friend who is also enjoying every swinging moment, WE DON'T EAT BUFFET.

Valentine's Day? Maybe you can fix me up with Cupid instead so that I can teach that kid how to shoot some arrows for a start.

My Lucky Rooster Year

A sigh of relief.

The big affair is finally over. Chinese New Year had once again struck and left in record time, as it always would.

This year, however, it had left me feeling quite exuberant and excited about the new year. I am feeling extra lucky, quite sure that my new career will be a success, a love relationship will eventually blossom, and everything will fall nice and neat into a perfect life. There is no stopping Bliss.

Alright, I am a die-hard optimist, I know it. How not to be, when all the signs are pointing to a fabulous year ahead?

In fact, my spate of good luck arrived even before the rooster came a-calling. Just one week ago I received my pay increment and the letter of offer for a teaching career on the same day. In that same period, some very long-lost, long-distance friends were recovered, and I experienced great friendship and camaraderie in my workplace. Even my boss was agreeable and supportive of my decision to follow my calling to join the education service.

For New Year's Day itself, things got even better. I took flight for Bangkok with 13 other family members for the traditional Chinese New Year visiting of our Thai relatives. It was a fun and shamelessly noisy trip. Everyone was in a festive mood and participated in endless Teochew chatter from airport to hotel to everywhere else. This is exactly how Chinese New Year should be like - loud and boisterous.

Our Thai granduncles gave us expensive seafood treats and fed us like pigs. I never had a whole claypot-full of whole shark's fins to myself before (I apologize for the environmentally-unfriendly behavior but believe me, I would rather have it otherwise), and that was just a fraction of the feasting that continued for days.

I also received, in spite of my age, several big fat ang pows that covered all my shopping expenses in Bangkok, plus a 2-hour traditional Thai massage to boot.

So here I am back in Singapore, feeling slightly dumpy due to the overeating but otherwise very radiant from the festivities. They say that Dragons will experience exceptional luck this year, and I am never more convinced.

* Warning!

Approaching 30.
Slow down aging.

Stratford-upon-Avon, UK
Fall, 2001

The Joy of Walking

I am a homely person. Do not attempt to describe me anything as outgoing, active or sporty, for I am quite a lazy bum to be honest. OK, so I had some energetic moments when I do hit the gym, participate in charity runs and engage in some challenging sports under the influence of either dangerous drugs or dangerous friends. Still, I'd rather have it slow and easy.

It is quite contradictory then, for me to tell you that I love to walk. Actually, I am one industrious walker who can go on and on for hours at a stretch. I can walk everyday, in any weather condition. In fact, walking is so enjoyable to me that it has become less of a chore, and more of a natural intuition. I'll walk even when I am wearing high heels or carrying a heavy pack (not both though, I'm not that insane yet).

Now, before you chiropractically-correct health enthusiasts start reprimanding me for doing unthinkable damage to my joints and my precious heels (mind you, the shoe parts, not the human anatomy), let me dutifully inform that I already have a bad knee and a weak lower back, so give me a break.

Yes, I do know the correct shoes, the correct outfit and the correct terrain, for that matter, to conduct a proper walk in. It's just that when the mood, the surroundings and the timing kick in, what does it matter? It's akin to singing in the rain - there's no stopping spontaneity. So stop getting hung up about that little bit of incorrectness and read on.

My friends tease me all the time for the hard work I do, saying that I must be less evolved and hence cannot adapt to newer forms of transportation. To that, I agree. After all, I was born a Capricorn and all the poor goat does is walk round the mountains every day. I would laugh and lament about my wretched life, but secretly endeavor to continue enjoying my walks. Indulge me, please.

The farthest back I can manage to recall going for long walks on my own was the time I studied in the States. It was partly to explore the pretty Victorian neighborhood, and partly because I did not have a car then. Most unfortunately too, the nearest grocer's was more than a mile away. It was either I depend on the unreliable public bus or use my own two feet to get around. I chose the latter. Hence for the next few years, I treaded in infamous Minnesotan snow and sometimes even had to skate on sidewalk ice just to get to hold of a pack of Kleenex.

Honestly, I enjoyed the sensation of stomping in the feet-deep snow in boots and a heavy winter jacket, with a backpack on my shoulder. My groceries add to the good workout, but it was the simple feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment of completing a mundane task that was quite irreplaceable by any other activity. Others thought I was extremely silly to be out in freezing conditions when I could have waited for the weekend to come, when friends with cars would go grocery shopping and could give me a ride. Well, perhaps they did not know how it was like to have never walked on snow nor wore boots ever.

Of course, there were nicer hikes that I went on over weekends, away from the urban jungle. No carbon monoxide, no concrete, no maddening crowds (actually there wasn't much of these anyway); just plenty of fresh air and scenic greenery. Minnesota isn't called the Land of 10,000 Lakes for nothing. There are huge national parks to explore and every season boasts a different experience. My favorite has got to be fall (they call it autumn from where I come from), mainly because of the stretches of red leaves in every brilliant shade that rustled under my feet as I strode away. I have never seen a sight I liked better.

Later on, when I was living in Taipei, I got quite bored of the limited urban activities such as shopping, eating and KTV singing, that I started to explore every nook and cranny of the city on foot. I would walk for hours without any destination in mind, just entertaining myself with the colorful sights and sounds that came my way. Before long, I knew the streets like the back of my hand. There were times when I weren't paying any attention to my surroundings. Rather, letting the noise and fumes engulf me until I got lost in my own rhythmic pace. It became my form of meditation in a crazy city.

A few years ago, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. Fortunately, it hadn't spread then and part of his lungs was surgically removed. The doctor advised him to exercise regularly to strengthen his lungs, which he did, under the supervision of my mother. Over the next year, they went for long walks everyday and covered every possible trail in Singapore. It was from accompanying my parents for their walks that I realized how much nature we have in our tiny, overdeveloped country, just minutes away from the hustle bustle that we all know too well.

I was astonished to see an extended family of primates splashing away happily on a quiet weekday afternoon at MacRitchie Park. Then there was the time I almost stepped on a small black-and-red snake napping on the Lower Peirce boardwalk. And yet another time when I caught the sun setting over the Seletar Reservoir in magnificent green background and dazzling orange lights bouncing off the water. These are but a few examples of what you get to see if you'd just step outside a while. You'll realize that there is no shortage of places for a good walk in Singapore too.

For me, walking has cultivated myself a mind for patience and a heart for nature. I started to appreciate the little things that I have seemed to overlook in the past. Like how wonderful it is to be able to sit down in serenity for a couple of minutes to have a refreshing sip of water, how touching it can be to walk silently beside your loved ones, how exciting it is to have rain pelting down on you as you run for shelter under the forest cover. And most of all, how amazing it is to be on this wonderful planet.

I hope you too, will enjoy a walk or two, and cherish the moments of splendor each brings. Maybe then, you can write about it, as I did.

Little Known Facts

A great philosopher once cleverly noted that human beings are the only creatures who take great pride and satisfaction in amassing knowledge of trivial information and facts that no one has any use for. What a wise man.

Since everyone is interested in anyone else's trivia, I shall start the ball rolling by providing mine.

- When I was much younger, I could sleep standing up. (Regrettably, I have since lost this ability.)

- I could sleepwalk too. (I've lost this ability as well...)

- My sister and I would chase each other around the apartment with kitchen knives. (Pause) Wait a minute. Correction: My sister would chase me around the apartment with kitchen knives. Yes, my younger sister.

- I was a really shy and quiet kid back then. Not sure what happened to me down the road. Now, no one believes me when I tell them this.

- The first-ever prize that I received was a $100 HSBC cash savings account from an art competition. It was held at the zoo and I had a photo taken with Ah Meng the orangutan when I went onstage to receive my prize. On retrospect, they probably mistook me for an abtract art prodigy.

- I can play the piano. I'll show you my certificates from The Association of the Royal Schools of Music, just don't ask me to play.

- I was one of the top 2 AV Librarians in primary school. By primary 5, I was fully certified to operate and maintain every single audio-visual machine in the school. Now I can't even figure out my own cell phone.

- I represented my school in a national Chinese Dance competition and we got a silver award. It was a peacock dance item and I had feathers stuck to my head and all that.

- I was also part of my primary school athletics team, but I was a reserve runner so I never had the chance to compete at all.

- I can hula hoop forever if you don't stop me. Thus, I don't understand why some people can't do it.

- I can't swim properly with the freestyle. Better to stick to breaststroke if I don't want to drown.

- I once helped a classmate cheat in a Home Economics exam by baking a cake for her at the very last minute. The one she made looked like vomit and I happened to be in a charitable mood.

- Gee, I was part of my class's Chinese poetry reciting team. It was a scam.

- I hosted 2 Taiwanese girls in my home for my school exchange program. They were so traumatized that I never heard from them again.

- I won the first prize for an English poetry contest. I took a cue form beauty pageants and wrote something about world peace. And I think all I got was a lousy certificate.

- I skipped classes in JC to play Pictionary with my PE teacher.

- I did double math double sciences at A levels. Until now, I'm not sure why I was THAT suicidal. I am convinced that 'Further Mathematics' is a hoax. They meant for it to be 'Fail Mathematics'.

- I was once kindly advised by my civics tutor to lengthen my JC skirt.

- Had stayed over illegally in school, attempted everything from hanging hammocks along the corridors, lugging guitars up onto the roof to sing in the moonlight, to (can you beat this) having a Chinese New Year steamboat dinner smack right on the track field. Lots of extension wire for that, I tell ya...

- My mom still recalls with pride my execution of 'commando flips' over the school gate when she came to pick me up from school on late nights. It's pretty simple actually...fling bag over gate, pull up skirt, climb gate, push, pose and flip.

- I participated in the Big Walk women's team event with ODAC mates and we came in 3rd. The prize was a trophy and a Timex watch each...and very sore legs. The trophy broke by the time I got home, and I gave the watch away. The only lasting thing was the pair of sore legs.

- I got my first black Motorola pager in 1995 and my first cell phone 3 years later - and lost my freedom ever since.

- I had red hair. Well, Uncle Ronald McDonald was the icon of that time.

- My numerous part-time/vacation jobs in my school years include:
1) dermatology clinic assistant
2) math tutor
3) summer camp counselor
4) college store clerk (selling candy, laundry tokens and college memorabilia)
5) volunteer English teacher for Asian women and kids at Sunday church
6) translator
7) western cook
8) bartender
9) stand-in office manager at the Hawaiian Trade Office (In between watering plants and replacing printer cartridges, the only significant thing I did on this job was typing and translating an official US visa request document for a for a Taiwan Minister's visit to Hawaii.)

- I rowed in a women's eight race on the Mississippi River. Our daily training involves waking up at 4:30am and running up and down a hill before sunrise in -10 degree C weather, rowing for 3 straight hours and then washing up the sweep boat. Mind you, we still had class after that, followed by more gym practice on rowing machines. I must be outta my mind.

- I stole muffins and fruits from the university cafeteria on a daily basis. It helped that the Minnesota weather is permanently at ice-point and we all wore huge jackets. Some dudes even stole dining trays for snowsliding.

- I was forever being mistaken for Keiko, who was one year my senior in college. And I would be 'the girl who looks just like Keiko'. No one remembered my name, I think.

- My first uni crush was on this guy who bought laundry tokens from me at the college store. He played the trumpet in the college jazz band and was a tennis player. Now you know why I cannot resist guys who play jazz and tennis.

- I learnt to drive in the states. It was a cute red Chevy. No need for theory tests or anything at all. The minute I met my instructor, he put me in the driver's seat and said, " OK, young lady, let's go!"

- I was once stalked by a frog-T-shirt weirdo from South Carolina when we were on exchange in Japan. It was rather scary but nothing dangerous. Having huge guy friends to walk you around can be a life-saver.

- I sang in a pseudo rock band called Dirty Dogs (we later realized that a dozen other college bands went by the same name too, and decided to change it to Rock Bandit). That was the start and the end of my singing career.

- I don't chat on the phone. It's a health hazard. I type fervently on MSN instead. Easier to let my fingers do the talking.

- I can dance a decent Hawaiian hula dance. In fact, I coached 5 other girls overnight and performed our first item on stage to resounding success. I think. Girls, tell me it was a success...Or, well at least we were the cutest performers.

- I really wanted to be a nurse or a teacher or a tai-tai who does charity work. Now it's a little late but I'm working on it... guess which one.

- I am crazy about writing and photography. If you need someone to write your obituary or shoot your last fleeting presence, I'll be glad to help.

- I am addicted to my blog.

- I think I can't stop.

Someone help...

* Jocks, Don't We All Love' Em?

Hooray, MAC colors!
St. Paul, Minnesota - Spring' 2000

My Super-Sized Friend

I dedicate this to the friend who has taught me to love something with his whole heart. A tribute to you, Joe...

I am not someone who indulges in spectator sports, especially TV sports. But come every spring and I will make an exception. The Super Bowl.

To begin with, I have never been a big fan of American football. In fact, I once had a horrific experience of being trapped a hundred over miles deep in the state of Nebraska amidst nothing but dry corn fields and a week of NFL and college football reruns on TV. Well, it did help a little that I had plentiful supply of delicious Thanksgiving turkey and pumpkin pie from my college roommate Andrea's grandma. But still, one week of TV football can be detrimental to anyone's sanity. That, plus the fact that I am more of a Ronaldo (used to be Fandi Ahmad in the 80's) /World Cup/ole-ole-ole kinda fan.

Now, that was way back in 1996 when I was a new kid to the New World, wearing shoes still muddy with fresh American soil. To me, the footballers were a just pack of perky all-American boys with excessive good appetites and dangerously high levels of testerones, who couldn't decide if they wanted to be gladiators or rugby players, therefore combining the two for maximum mileage.

They were a boisterous sight to behold in the college cafeteria and held at least 80 permanent seats in the centre of the dining room, often oblivious to the rest of us puny citizens, as if they were in some sort of a serious pre-match camp. One had to be quick enough to grab any food in sight before the army arrived each time or you might be left with just a handful of raisins. At times I seriously believed we were paying to feed those hungry blokes.

Then I met Joe, a sophomore who was in my spring economics class in which we got clustered into the same homework group. One look at him and you'd know he was one of those football guys. If you're not sure, let me give you a few pointers: huge physique, military hair cut, baseball cap, athletic tee, and shorts at sub zero weather. Give or take a light NCAA jacket.

Now, Joe was a quiet fella who, to my mild astonishment, did not fall asleep in class like how you'd imagine jocks to. He dutifully turned up at every lesson without fail and copied notes. In fact, he was one of the few people in my group who actually turned up for our homework discussions. Lest you should mistaken football jocks to be academically-challenged slackers, let me warn you that he was definitely otherwise. Joe was always the serious one running computer programs and churning out figures and charts for our homework while the rest of us goofed around playing solitaire and sending chain emails.

There was one time after a discussion when it was rather late and he offered to walk me back to my dorm in the snow, and we had a hearty one-to-one talk on a more personal level. He hails from New York and is of Italian descent. Other than his football teammates, he had few friends on campus and pretty much preferred to keep to himself. He explained that some, if not most collegiate football players like himself, gain exceptional admission to schools based on their sports ability, plus he wasn't quite the star athlete. Therefore, he had to work doubly hard to keep up with the demands of schoolwork and extra football practice. He had to remain focused. I was very impressed with what I heard, and felt slightly guilty for blaming footballers for causing world famines.

From then on, Joe and I became friends. I would enlist his help for my linguistics homework, as he spoke with a heavy New York twang, very good for being my subject. He spent hours patiently answering my dummy questions while I recorded his speech for analysis. And from those conversations and interviews, I got to know him better. We were frequently seen walking around campus together that we quickly earned the nickname 'Barney and Tweety', with reference to our disparity in size.

Sometimes if I met Joe at the cafeteria, he would invite me over to have dinner with his teammates, from whom I'd find queer accents to be my next interview subjects. They were all affable gentlemen really, quite unlike the people you see on the field piling up on one another over an egg-shaped ball. However, I soon stopped joining them for meals because every time without fail, I would be severely reprimanded by the big guys for eating nuthin' even though I had consumed something like two pounds of meat and potatoes. Well, if I had continued merrymaking with them, I could jolly well have the size to join them on the reserves' bench in no time.

Maybe it was because I had a footballer friend that made me change my mind about the sport. Or maybe it was my football fanatic-cum-roommate Andrea (whose grandma you had been introduced to earlier) who conditioned me to enjoy this rugby game that Americans disguised as football. On weekends, I would make my way to the field to watch their friendlies or practices before hitting the gym. During the NFL or NCAA season, we would gather in the common room for nights of pizza, beer and more football.

Soon, it was time for spring term to end and so did my econs class. Joe and I were getting busy with our own activities and did not have many opportunities to meet. However, we remained in close contact by email and updated each other on everything, especially football. I fed him with interesting details about what I was doing, probably relieving him of his regimental lifestyle. In return, he taught me strength and passion for what he believed in.

Time flew by and I have since graduated, left the States and done a million other things. Joe, on the other hand, is now still doing what he loves most - football. He knew that he wasn't any Joe Montana, never good enough to play in the pro league, and so he considered applying for an extra minor to remain in college for an extra year just to be able to continue playing.

I remember asking him if it was worth putting his life on hold for a year for football, and his reply made my heart weep. He said, "it's not like tennis, or soccer, or golf, or basketball. This is something that I can never hope to do after I get out of college. Maybe yeah, I can play touch rugby with a few neighbors, but it's not the same."

Eventually, Joe graduated and drifted for a while working in jobs he didn't feel much for. Then one fine day two years ago, I received an email from him. His elation was bursting out of my monitor when I read it. He had got a coaching job for a local youth team in Pennsylvania and is not looking back.

And I got an open invitation to watch his kids play. And maybe, I will go for a live Superbowl game.

* I Guess They're Not Winning

The Last Game

St. Paul, MN

Am I Really Just a Typist?

I am in one of my philosophical moods.

A friend sent me an instant message after reading my blog, commenting that I can write quite darn well. Do I really? I was suddenly very full of myself and contemplated on the idea of becoming a writer for good and embarking on long treacherous journeys to feed my mind.

Ok, seriously, that was not what I thought about.

I was thinking about the years in school when I truly did write real stuff. Not frivolous feel-good nonsense or goofy humor like what you see on this page, but scholarly essays on serious issues from ethics to world affairs. And write, I would, with a pen.

As a student, my pencil case was the most important thing I carried everywhere. In fact, my supply of stationery was so substantial that I was coined 'The Stationery Shop' by my classmates who always borrowed my Pilot pens.

Another must-have item in my school bag was my standard 2-hole, A4-size foolscap paper. In fact, I liked my paper so much that one of my favorite pastimes was selecting foolscap at Popular Bookshop.

I am not sure if I truly loved to write at that time, or if I did it because I had to. But writing had never been a chore to me. My ideas would flow like a stream and I was always in the library looking up references to quote. I could draft an outline and complete an essay without much effort. The only extra work I had to do was to rewrite the essay neatly on fresh paper as the original copy, with its ink blots and scribblings, would be completely illegible to anyone but myself.

Then came the time when I went on to college in the US. I wasn't so fond of the 3-hole, 8 ½" x 11" yellow filmsy paper that was the standard college issue, and I really could not get used to the fact that my American college counterparts were still using pencil to write. What irked me most was the little eraser tip that kept breaking off. I thought I only had to deal with that in elementary school. So I gave up and starting using my Mac to print my essays. It was definitely more 'adult' and more professional to turn in a paper that is double-spaced, using 12-pt Times New Roman font and 1-inch margins. From that day on, I never looked back. I became a typist.

I touched my keyboard more than I held my pen. Soon, I realized that I could not even organize my thoughts unless I was typing them onto my screen. My handwriting degenerates into a miserable scrawl that I cannot bear to look at. Sometimes I even think correctly-spelled handwritten words are spelt wrongly because they look strange and different from type.

If you ask me, I cannot remember when was the last time I bought a pen. Or foolscap. I write on Post-Its more than on anything else. Pens are now used only for jotting phone numbers and short messages.

It is really quite sad that I do not really 'write' anymore. And I do not want to think of the consequences of a crashed hard-drive or whatever it is that might delete this blog permamently from the internet. Will I then become an empty person with no legacy to her name, no rights to her works? Is this the start of the demise of what we know as writing instrument?

How I wish I can become a writer again. A writer who pens her thoughts, not one who types them.

* Pause a while...

Why the haste, when all is naught?

Lantau Island, HK
Winter, 2004

Crab!

I was invited to Carmen and Stephen's for a steamboat lunch today. It was a rather typical cozy and laid-back affair except for a few moments of frantic excitement when we were trying to figure out how to kill 3 crabs with a single chopstick, a chopper and 5 pairs of clumsy hands. I'm happy to report that we managed with reasonable success in the end, although at one point in time, Sam wanted to try flushing them to death in the toilet.

Actually it was Ian, our Australian Agilent colleague (and an excellent photographer by the way) who wielded the chopper like a pro, quickly disecting the crabs into smaller parts for our gastronomy pleasure, and simply disregarding Sam's fingers on the cutting board the whole while. Fortunately, no one was hurt except pitiful crustaceans.

Still on a high after his massacre, Ian went on to the dining table to tell a bunch of helpless crabsticks that he had just killed their cousins. After which, he dunked them into hot boiling soup as if to wipe off the entire crab clan.

My, someone remind me never to offend an Australian.

It's CNY Time!

You know age is catching up when this time of the year draws near and you fancy buying red nail polish, red boxes of tissue paper and (I beg your pardon) red underwear. Full set, no less.

All of which was what I just did last week.

Well that's embarrassing to admit, but what is truly frightening is the fact that I am actually putting it all in my Blogspot for you to laugh at. You see, when you grow older (much more than you'd like), you become more ready to blow your own cover. You laugh at yourself and you tell strangers the silliest things that you've done. No more pretenses, no more acting cool and tough. No more waging war with your parents coz you've decided that you want to wear black head-to-toe for Chinese New Year visiting.

I'm starting to behave, according what my closest friends say, like an auntie. And this particular auntie is none other than my beloved mother.

Gee, it drives me crazy to know that I am just like Mom. But really, how could anyone think that ordering those must-have pineapple tarts and checking out NTUC's abalone prices are anything but essential? And let's not forget the queuing for bak kwa at Chinatown and getting ang pow envelopes from the banks. There are a thousand and one things to be done for Chinese New Year, and how else can Mom cope if not for her mature and responsible daughter who proudly takes on the tasks to ensure a prosperous and smooth-sailing year ahead.

Of course, there are a few things that we'd do differently from our elders. Take reunion dinner for example. While Ma and Grandma would probably slog day and night in the kitchen to prepare the most sumptuous feast of the year, slaughtering kampung chicken and steaming traditional kueh for the whole extended family; new-age career-riding, IT-savvy and unfortunately also credit-revolving* lifestyle women like us will very much prefer to just call Sheraton for a reservation at Li Bai.

Instead of kneading dough and doing unthinkable damage to our perfectly painted nails, all we need is a click of the mouse to place an advance order for the most authentic home-made CNY cookies delivered straight to our doorsteps. And my, pay by Visa and get an additional discount! Need we say more?

If haute cuisine is your cup of tea, why not take it one step further and fly the whole family to Paris for a reunion dinner a la Francaise? Or better yet, jump onboard the Eastern-Oriental Express for a 'rail' of a time while shouting your yum sengs in the middle of lush tropical rainforest setting.

Of course, if you prefer a more down-to-earth and simple homey affair that doesn't break your bank, the traditional all-time favorite steamboat dinner is the dummy-proof way to go. You don't have to be a chef to prepare your dinner. A one-stop shopping trip at your nearest neighborhood supermarket will solve it all. Best thing is, you won't even chip a nail.

The bottom line is, no matter what generation we are in, or how we like our reunion dinner to be, it is always a time to look forward to and have tons of fun preparing for. We Chinese believe that having a good celebration brings happiness and riches in the year to come.

Which, by the way, is what the red underwear is for too.

Oh, and don't forget to buy Toto.

(* For the record, I am not revolving any credit. It's only a writing methology to emphasize my point, OK... :P)