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.