I love caressing the herbs in my high rise herb garden of sorts.
I just turned my rosemary pot so that the entire plant gets under the sun at some time. The plant does not get much sun and I do what I can to keep the plant from looking etiolated. And as I turned the pot, I check the shoots and notice that I am getting new branches! New growth. That makes me very happy. And then I notice my hands are scented with the oils left behind by the plant when I spread the branches. So heavenly.
The same happened when I turned my basil pot recently. My hands are scented with sweet basil fragrance. In fact, my pot of mint does the same to my hands when I pick up the stalks that have fallen over when I water the plant. And the curry leaves do the same too!
Little joys from what you grow can raise your spirits and make you happy. Sure, I could get a burner of rosemary essential oil and let the whole house smell like the oven baking a slab of meat seasoned with rosemary salt but it just feels different when it's just over your hands. I think the intimacy of it all makes all the difference.
Small wonder then that my housemate is also trying to green his fingers by caressing the herbs. They've held up well; I guess they'll be fine, as long as he doesn't try to re-pot them. The latest I've learnt is to spend a little more money and get the organic vegetables farm folks to re-pot your herbs before you bring them home. Success and growth guaranteed.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
My view
You know how I see the AWARE Saga?
It's something like "From barebreasted straight back into the Victorian corsets."
What's your view?
And no, I don't think I'm a male chauvinistic pig.
It's something like "From barebreasted straight back into the Victorian corsets."
What's your view?
And no, I don't think I'm a male chauvinistic pig.
Crepes
Swissotel The Stamford's Out of the Pan serves really nice crepes. A close friend and dear mentor and I had our tea there today. We were both very delighted with the food and the discreet service. We had a nice table beside the fountain and had a great time catching up.
New Phone
Just got a Nokia 5800. I think it suits impatient folks like me. It's also light and easy to use.
But there are more features than I need, as usual, and much smarter than I am.
But there are more features than I need, as usual, and much smarter than I am.
And you thought...
Was just thinking that since I've moved to this new place, no one has fallen in the toilet yet.
So, this morning, this Airbus 380 skidded off the runway hitting its right wing, middle right fuselage and the left tail rudder in wet conditions. Man, my right shoulders and hips and my left ankle are hurting... and I've kept the left foot stuffed in a pair of boots today. The swelling and pain was thus manageable. I don't know about tonight.
It was a light tumble but still, the damage is... pretty massive. Good thing no writing off was necessary. :)
So, this morning, this Airbus 380 skidded off the runway hitting its right wing, middle right fuselage and the left tail rudder in wet conditions. Man, my right shoulders and hips and my left ankle are hurting... and I've kept the left foot stuffed in a pair of boots today. The swelling and pain was thus manageable. I don't know about tonight.
It was a light tumble but still, the damage is... pretty massive. Good thing no writing off was necessary. :)
Over!
The GRE is finally over and done with! Now, it's stage 2 of the exams - the silly TOEFL. To think my degree in English counted for nothing. Oh well, hopefully TOEFL is not going to be as tough as the GREs.
Anyway, whoever is thinking of taking the GREs, please note: These papers are ON STERIODS! Trust me, I should know.
Anyway, whoever is thinking of taking the GREs, please note: These papers are ON STERIODS! Trust me, I should know.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Glances
Movies
Just watched Final Destination 1 and 3. Amazing how the same plot can be recycled into movies again and again and again. It wasn't a bad storyline. My only complaint is there isn't enough gore. Too much time was spent on storyline development, which could get draggy, especially when you already know what you are going to get. Go ahead, kill and give me as much gore as possible.
Rewatched The Devil Wears Prada and I knew why I needed to leave my job. I was becoming like Andie. I am just immensely glad I have left my job. The devils I work for don't even wear Prada. Neither do I get branded stuff for attending useless meetings. Heck, I didn't even need to go to Paris. I just had to plan and someone else went. And did I for a single moment feel aggrevied? You have to be joking! I was secretly elated that I didn't have to do it!
Honesty without integrity
It's possible. I experienced it for myself Tuesday last. Trust me. My judgement was never wrong. I stand by my assessment of a person and I stick to it. I'll probably carry that view to my grave, if I had to.
Death by Rojak
It's not my time yet. I was there at the Geylang Market, near the Indian rojak stall. I had my rose syrup with "tadpoles" drink and I was really tempted to do the rojak. But in the end I didn't. Maybe if I lose my baby, I'll have a flatter...
Abhisit and ASEAN + 5 Hullalaboo
One word - Shiok.
S Factor
Oh, this is so bad it's good. Some journalist declared it in the Sunday Times today. I cannot help but concur. It was really so bitchy, slutty, cheapo that it IS good. But today's episode was too sedate for me. I went to take a shower to wash off the grime. Bring back the slut. By the way, if you are watching the show, the contestants are archetypes of the majority of Singaporean women and their narratives are as narrow as their imagined waistline. I cringe as I watch Miss No-brainer try to speak in a complete sentence. So cannot make it lor...
Just watched Final Destination 1 and 3. Amazing how the same plot can be recycled into movies again and again and again. It wasn't a bad storyline. My only complaint is there isn't enough gore. Too much time was spent on storyline development, which could get draggy, especially when you already know what you are going to get. Go ahead, kill and give me as much gore as possible.
Rewatched The Devil Wears Prada and I knew why I needed to leave my job. I was becoming like Andie. I am just immensely glad I have left my job. The devils I work for don't even wear Prada. Neither do I get branded stuff for attending useless meetings. Heck, I didn't even need to go to Paris. I just had to plan and someone else went. And did I for a single moment feel aggrevied? You have to be joking! I was secretly elated that I didn't have to do it!
Honesty without integrity
It's possible. I experienced it for myself Tuesday last. Trust me. My judgement was never wrong. I stand by my assessment of a person and I stick to it. I'll probably carry that view to my grave, if I had to.
Death by Rojak
It's not my time yet. I was there at the Geylang Market, near the Indian rojak stall. I had my rose syrup with "tadpoles" drink and I was really tempted to do the rojak. But in the end I didn't. Maybe if I lose my baby, I'll have a flatter...
Abhisit and ASEAN + 5 Hullalaboo
One word - Shiok.
S Factor
Oh, this is so bad it's good. Some journalist declared it in the Sunday Times today. I cannot help but concur. It was really so bitchy, slutty, cheapo that it IS good. But today's episode was too sedate for me. I went to take a shower to wash off the grime. Bring back the slut. By the way, if you are watching the show, the contestants are archetypes of the majority of Singaporean women and their narratives are as narrow as their imagined waistline. I cringe as I watch Miss No-brainer try to speak in a complete sentence. So cannot make it lor...
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Freshmen Write the Darnest Things (1)
Was grading a paper earlier today. Student was arguing for the importance of randomized controlled trials and the golden standard, the double blinded trials. It would be amazing if anything can be obtained in a double blinded, though the double blind trial is indeed a golden standard.
Oops.
Oops.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Couldn't stay dry
The heat was oppressive despite the huge downpour earlier today that caused flash floods in parts of Singapore.
I just showered and was sitting in front of my computer, the fan panning in the roon. The sweat literally poured out of my pores as though I myself was raining sweat.
Finally, I decided to turn on the air conditioner. With that and the fan on, the damp heat seems to be less draining.
I'm drying up a little and I hope to cool down before I hit the bed. It's going to be a long night.
I just showered and was sitting in front of my computer, the fan panning in the roon. The sweat literally poured out of my pores as though I myself was raining sweat.
Finally, I decided to turn on the air conditioner. With that and the fan on, the damp heat seems to be less draining.
I'm drying up a little and I hope to cool down before I hit the bed. It's going to be a long night.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Through Another's Eyes
A wonder of the internet is probably the fact that you get to see through another's eyes.
Today, I realised I saw for the fourth year running the cherry blossoms in Washington DC.
The flowers are beautiful, like the soul of the person who has unfailingly and unselfishly posted the pictures for all of us to admire.
How wonderful is that!
Today, I realised I saw for the fourth year running the cherry blossoms in Washington DC.
The flowers are beautiful, like the soul of the person who has unfailingly and unselfishly posted the pictures for all of us to admire.
How wonderful is that!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
How to lose a smelly friend
Equipment
1 MRT Train
Method
1. Walk your friend towards the train.
2. Dilly dally outside the train, then tell your friend that you will be boarding.
3. Make sure that your friend enters the train carriage. Pretend to walk in behind him and stay near the door.
4. As the reminder goes off for door closing, step outside.
Observation
This trick works. The last time someone did it, the train carriage started to reek the minute the doors closed.
1 MRT Train
Method
1. Walk your friend towards the train.
2. Dilly dally outside the train, then tell your friend that you will be boarding.
3. Make sure that your friend enters the train carriage. Pretend to walk in behind him and stay near the door.
4. As the reminder goes off for door closing, step outside.
Observation
This trick works. The last time someone did it, the train carriage started to reek the minute the doors closed.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Suffering Fools
I suffer no fools. No, I don't. And I will not hesitate to tell the fool off.
That is perhaps why clowns have no place in my heart. Neither does Mr Bean. Folly is the way of the weak, the veneer behind which a person hides his/her inability and shortcomings.
Fools have the innate ability to ask seemingly smart questions but, to the trained eye, such questions betray their vacuous minds.
I rapped a student twice today for asking stupid questions. And then I ignored her and many others when they asked foolish questions. So contrite were the questions that their other classmates actually told them to work out the sums in their own calculators and see how stupid their questions were.
Still, the start of a beautiful week was marred by these foolish ones.
That is perhaps why clowns have no place in my heart. Neither does Mr Bean. Folly is the way of the weak, the veneer behind which a person hides his/her inability and shortcomings.
Fools have the innate ability to ask seemingly smart questions but, to the trained eye, such questions betray their vacuous minds.
I rapped a student twice today for asking stupid questions. And then I ignored her and many others when they asked foolish questions. So contrite were the questions that their other classmates actually told them to work out the sums in their own calculators and see how stupid their questions were.
Still, the start of a beautiful week was marred by these foolish ones.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Hypocrisy Hour
Oh, the BLASPHEMY!
So I was right all along.
Advertise your hypocrisy.
Show off your crocodile tears.
Celebrate in mere symbolism.
Save one lamp hour to spend it in other ways. Charge your cameras! Take pictures. Upload to your computer and share with the world. People will come and visit and look at your pictures. Choke the bandwidth. See our collective sympathy for our own misdeeds.
What a sick and cruel joke to play on Mother Earth.
So I was right all along.
Advertise your hypocrisy.
Show off your crocodile tears.
Celebrate in mere symbolism.
Save one lamp hour to spend it in other ways. Charge your cameras! Take pictures. Upload to your computer and share with the world. People will come and visit and look at your pictures. Choke the bandwidth. See our collective sympathy for our own misdeeds.
What a sick and cruel joke to play on Mother Earth.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Say What?
Sometimes, there are things would you rather not know. But once you find them on the Internet, they can be too exciting to ignore.
Tuninter Flight 1153 was a Tuninter flight from Bari International Airport in Bari, Italy, to Djerba-Zarzis Airport in Djerba, Tunisia. On 6 August 2005 the ATR-72 on the route, TS-LBB "Habib Bourguiba", ran out of fuel and ditched into the ocean...
In March 2009, an Italian court sentenced the pilot, Chafik Garbi, to 10 years in jail for manslaughter. Prosecutors said that after the plane's engines stopped functioning, Garbi failed to follow emergency procedures, and that he could have easily reached landing strip #25 of Palermo "Punta Raisi" Airport, or even the standard landing strip #20.
Witnesses say he succumbed to panic and began praying out loud, rather than attempting to maneuver the plane to the nearest airport. The last five minutes of the cockpit voice recorder audio have a few scattered seconds of religiously oriented interjections such as "Allah save us!", with the pilot repeatedly telling ATC that the plane is too far out to make it to land, carefully selecting a boat to splash down near, and repeatedly trying to restart the engines.
Wikipedia has the most exciting information. How exciting.
Tuninter Flight 1153 was a Tuninter flight from Bari International Airport in Bari, Italy, to Djerba-Zarzis Airport in Djerba, Tunisia. On 6 August 2005 the ATR-72 on the route, TS-LBB "Habib Bourguiba", ran out of fuel and ditched into the ocean...
In March 2009, an Italian court sentenced the pilot, Chafik Garbi, to 10 years in jail for manslaughter. Prosecutors said that after the plane's engines stopped functioning, Garbi failed to follow emergency procedures, and that he could have easily reached landing strip #25 of Palermo "Punta Raisi" Airport, or even the standard landing strip #20.
Witnesses say he succumbed to panic and began praying out loud, rather than attempting to maneuver the plane to the nearest airport. The last five minutes of the cockpit voice recorder audio have a few scattered seconds of religiously oriented interjections such as "Allah save us!", with the pilot repeatedly telling ATC that the plane is too far out to make it to land, carefully selecting a boat to splash down near, and repeatedly trying to restart the engines.
Wikipedia has the most exciting information. How exciting.
For Lucy
Lucy, an Akita bitch, belonging to a couple of my friends in NJ died of cancer last Boxing Day. She was 10.
If Lucy could talk, she'll make a fine lady. She's always so friendly and agreeable. She used to leave my pants all covered with doggie hair whenever she saw me. Bob used to be so apologetic - I'll wipe them off, he'll say - but I got past the initial discomfort and never looked back. Lucy was simply Lucy. She pressed her body against people's legs as her way of hugging. And she loved giving hugs.
Lucy was also exceptionally well-behaved. Her great manners can be seen at the dinner table. Despite her eagerness to get scraps off the table, she can sit and wait. That is one amazing thing that I never seen dogs do, at least not up close. She loved it when I spirited scraps off the table and she'd take those pieces off my hand, making sure that she never bit me.
I was really impressed when Lucy licked the plates clean after our dinner. Small wonder the dishwasher always delivered clean plates after washing. Lucy had done half the job for it!
What left the most indelible impression on me was Lucy's penchant for mint. She used to eat toothpaste because she dug mint. Till I introduced her to Wrigley's mint sweets. She'd eagerly answer my calls because of the mints, I guess. It was hard doing rationing, especially when she would look expectantly at you, hoping that you'd acquiesce and slip her another mint. Hearing her chew on those mints was another wonder altogether.
Even though our contact was just a few days, Lucy left a deep impression. I look back at the days I was a guest at my friends' and she'd be one of the highlights.
Lucy's definitely in doggie heaven now. I was told my friends will be adopting another Akita. But Lucy will always have a very special place in my heart, too.
If Lucy could talk, she'll make a fine lady. She's always so friendly and agreeable. She used to leave my pants all covered with doggie hair whenever she saw me. Bob used to be so apologetic - I'll wipe them off, he'll say - but I got past the initial discomfort and never looked back. Lucy was simply Lucy. She pressed her body against people's legs as her way of hugging. And she loved giving hugs.
Lucy was also exceptionally well-behaved. Her great manners can be seen at the dinner table. Despite her eagerness to get scraps off the table, she can sit and wait. That is one amazing thing that I never seen dogs do, at least not up close. She loved it when I spirited scraps off the table and she'd take those pieces off my hand, making sure that she never bit me.
I was really impressed when Lucy licked the plates clean after our dinner. Small wonder the dishwasher always delivered clean plates after washing. Lucy had done half the job for it!
What left the most indelible impression on me was Lucy's penchant for mint. She used to eat toothpaste because she dug mint. Till I introduced her to Wrigley's mint sweets. She'd eagerly answer my calls because of the mints, I guess. It was hard doing rationing, especially when she would look expectantly at you, hoping that you'd acquiesce and slip her another mint. Hearing her chew on those mints was another wonder altogether.
Even though our contact was just a few days, Lucy left a deep impression. I look back at the days I was a guest at my friends' and she'd be one of the highlights.
Lucy's definitely in doggie heaven now. I was told my friends will be adopting another Akita. But Lucy will always have a very special place in my heart, too.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
B*** S***
On Saturday, organisers hope to get 1 billion people to believe and take part in their BS.
These 1 billion people are supposed to switch off every d**n thing in their homes and live in total darkness and quiet to save an hour's worth of electricity.
These 1 billion people are supposed to believe that our philandering ways have led to a crisis called global warming.
These 1 billion people are supposed to think that their turning off their electrical equiment for an hour, and then blasting them the rest of the year - regardless of need - to make up for it, is going help preserve the earth for a period of time enough for a new generation to spawn.
1 billion of such people are already in existence. We don't another 1 billion. We don't need to be them. Look at the people around the world who have no electricity. Oops, make it no home, not even basic shelter. Aren't they the most ardent supporters of your BS? They have more than sufficiently atoned for our sins. Why should we pretend that we need to disrupt the sick system even more.
These 1 billion people are going to tax the generators so badly at the end of their 1hour of hypocritical BS when they reignite all the equipment at the same time. If I suffer a power outage, I'll engage all other sane folks to initiate a class action suit against the perpetrators of such BS.
How can 1 billion people, almost 15% of the world's population, all be tricked into believing that global warming is a man-made occurrence? Haven't scientists shown with historical ice ages that the earth is merely going through a hot stage now, and then our next ice age will come later?
1 billion *more* morons. That's an assault on our combined IQ scores. For that one hour, we lose all the geniuses to the drama-mamas, who think with their hearts and groins rather than their brains. Didn't some people suggest that the 1 hour of BS be spent in fornication? How that idea sucks! How is the heaving and panting not adding to greenhouse carbon dioxide gases? And then what happens when our population grows by another 200 million more in 9 months?
Fortunately, these 1 billion people will NOT include me.
The world will end. But it will not be because of me, but because of the 1 billion people who have chosen to vote for "This Planet." Earth Hour? For heaven's sake, grow a brain for a start.
These 1 billion people are supposed to switch off every d**n thing in their homes and live in total darkness and quiet to save an hour's worth of electricity.
These 1 billion people are supposed to believe that our philandering ways have led to a crisis called global warming.
These 1 billion people are supposed to think that their turning off their electrical equiment for an hour, and then blasting them the rest of the year - regardless of need - to make up for it, is going help preserve the earth for a period of time enough for a new generation to spawn.
1 billion of such people are already in existence. We don't another 1 billion. We don't need to be them. Look at the people around the world who have no electricity. Oops, make it no home, not even basic shelter. Aren't they the most ardent supporters of your BS? They have more than sufficiently atoned for our sins. Why should we pretend that we need to disrupt the sick system even more.
These 1 billion people are going to tax the generators so badly at the end of their 1hour of hypocritical BS when they reignite all the equipment at the same time. If I suffer a power outage, I'll engage all other sane folks to initiate a class action suit against the perpetrators of such BS.
How can 1 billion people, almost 15% of the world's population, all be tricked into believing that global warming is a man-made occurrence? Haven't scientists shown with historical ice ages that the earth is merely going through a hot stage now, and then our next ice age will come later?
1 billion *more* morons. That's an assault on our combined IQ scores. For that one hour, we lose all the geniuses to the drama-mamas, who think with their hearts and groins rather than their brains. Didn't some people suggest that the 1 hour of BS be spent in fornication? How that idea sucks! How is the heaving and panting not adding to greenhouse carbon dioxide gases? And then what happens when our population grows by another 200 million more in 9 months?
Fortunately, these 1 billion people will NOT include me.
The world will end. But it will not be because of me, but because of the 1 billion people who have chosen to vote for "This Planet." Earth Hour? For heaven's sake, grow a brain for a start.
Tribute to the FedEx pilots
I always think pilots are amazing people. They manoeuvre massive equipment that make drivers of large cars seem like they are driving toy cars.
And more amazingly, pilots bring people and goods from point to point; their work helps to connect people around the world.
While I must admit that the shipping captains are equally noble, there is nothing like zooming at 1000 km/h at almost 10 km above terra firma.
In many air freight companies and iffy airlines, pilots are required to operate equipment that may or may not be worthy of flight. Still, they try their best to get things and people from point to point each time.
Each failure to do so seems magnified beyond reason. Just because a plane crashes and a few hundred people die, it seems like the end of the world. Looking at it in perspective, the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami claimed about half a million lives. Assuming each aircraft takes 500 passengers and crew, we need to crash 1 000 aircraft at the same time to achieve the same amount of deaths. In fact, more people die on the road each year than in air crashes.
The FedEx pilots had to operate a MD11, which is highly suspect in its ability to survive severe conditions. Nonetheless, the pilots tried. That's the one of the most important lessons one should learn in life - to try. To die while trying is nobler than not having tried at all.
I only hope that the air disaster does not end in vain. Something should be done, such as phasing all MD11s out of commercial and freight service, so that aviation becomes even safer. That would be a larger tribute to the two men who tried.
And more amazingly, pilots bring people and goods from point to point; their work helps to connect people around the world.
While I must admit that the shipping captains are equally noble, there is nothing like zooming at 1000 km/h at almost 10 km above terra firma.
In many air freight companies and iffy airlines, pilots are required to operate equipment that may or may not be worthy of flight. Still, they try their best to get things and people from point to point each time.
Each failure to do so seems magnified beyond reason. Just because a plane crashes and a few hundred people die, it seems like the end of the world. Looking at it in perspective, the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami claimed about half a million lives. Assuming each aircraft takes 500 passengers and crew, we need to crash 1 000 aircraft at the same time to achieve the same amount of deaths. In fact, more people die on the road each year than in air crashes.
The FedEx pilots had to operate a MD11, which is highly suspect in its ability to survive severe conditions. Nonetheless, the pilots tried. That's the one of the most important lessons one should learn in life - to try. To die while trying is nobler than not having tried at all.
I only hope that the air disaster does not end in vain. Something should be done, such as phasing all MD11s out of commercial and freight service, so that aviation becomes even safer. That would be a larger tribute to the two men who tried.
Watch where the f**k you are going!
In a matter of less than 20 metres, a wheelchair guy nearly ran over the toes of another guy walking alongside him because he needed to steer the wheelchair out to look at the girl walking beside him, whom he was talking to.
I nearly crashed into some bozo who barged out of the bookstore, waved to a girl and then stopped dead in his tracks.
Man, I bet they were unable to move properly because their gears got stuck between their ball bearings and wheels.
I wish I had simply crashed into the bozo and brought him down. I'd enjoy some physical contact. And perhaps someone *else* can go to the ER for a change.
Yes, all for looking at and getting stunned by girls.
Sex-starved idiots!
I nearly crashed into some bozo who barged out of the bookstore, waved to a girl and then stopped dead in his tracks.
Man, I bet they were unable to move properly because their gears got stuck between their ball bearings and wheels.
I wish I had simply crashed into the bozo and brought him down. I'd enjoy some physical contact. And perhaps someone *else* can go to the ER for a change.
Yes, all for looking at and getting stunned by girls.
Sex-starved idiots!
Friday, March 20, 2009
I'm mortal
Drop the apostrophe and remove the space and you get the anagrammatic "immortal". Perhaps it depicts how much human beings have been preoccupied by maintaining their life for as long as they can.
I woke up this morning at 3 am with a severe central abdominal pain. It was a widespread, periodic pain with varying intensity. Despite only hitting the bed at 1.30 am, the pain prevented me from going back to sleep.
I gingerly got out of bed and did my big one, hoping that the release of gases will relieve the pain a little. That was not to be. The pain came in a sharp torrent while I was seated on the throne. Something must be wrong.
Could it be appendicitis? I can't tell. I woke my housemate up at 3.30 am and asked to be sent to an emergency room.
While he showered and prepped, I packed an overnight bag. At that moment, I felt like I was going in because my water bag broke. Except I'm a guy.
He came out and asked me why I was all packed. I shrugged and said, "I want to be the first appendicitis patient to go in ready for admission, rather than have to rely on you coming back for my stuff."
He said I was crazy but how much do people know about needing to get busy so that the patient can forget the discomfort and suppress the fear.
As he drove down the rather desert highway to Singapore General Hospital, I wondered aloud what would have been a good outcome for this episode.
No diagnosis? Nah, I hate no-endings. Appendicitis? Sounds good. Look, I'm not going to die if it is. Stomach cancer...
Don't be silly, he said.
But my grandfather was admitted to the hospital during some Chinese New Year for severe stomach pains. He was diagnosed with stomach cancer and in less than 4 months, despite the aggressive treatment, he left. I replied.
Oh, shit. I haven't written my will. I thought to myself
We often wait till when we need it the most before we realise that we have not done what we should have. I'm a net asset person. In fact, I am just assets at the moment. I'm not servicing any loans. My bills all paid. I have decent insurance cover. But to die intestate would mean the state will screw my monies first.
Perhaps it time to set the house in order.
I wonder if appendicitis surgery can be done under epidural.
We just drove past the Changi Village exit on the highway, our journey a fifth done.
Yeah, right. They may think you're pregnant after all.
I wish. But at least I'll have a hell of an excuse to eat lots of food and grow fat. Baby needs to grow, you know.
The pain rippled the through the abdomen as the car bumped across half the island to SGH. One goes to SGH for the sake that its abbreviated name suggests "Sure Go Home". Changi General Hospital, which is nearer my place and would be where I would have arrived at when I spoke of eating and growing fat for the baby's growth, is some place I avoid. "Can Go Home" and "Cannot Go Home" are too close to call.
My thoughts quickly dissipated as the journey went on. I concentrated on dulling the pain through a mind over matter effort, until we arrived near the hospital. There was a slight hesitation on the driver's part what is the best approach. Being familiar with SGH, I directed him there.
Odd that he didn't put on the GPS to guide him. Perhaps I should remind him the next time.
Screening and triage at the hospital was quick. Not surprisingly, at 4 am, there were a few patients but not too many.
I waited a good 40 minutes or so before I was attended to.
The mind strayed and tried to block out the cruel joke the body played on your life. You begin to wonder if life needs to be a parasitical part of the body such that the parasite dies as the host expires.
The reading materials were dismal. The relatively light patient load simply meant fewer action for a drama lover like me.
As I fidgeted over whether I should go to relieve myself, a woman "merlioned" just outside the toilets.
She outdid Merlion. Hers was Technicolor puke, mainly reddish. Singapore Tourism Board needs to consider if Merlion can also get to throw up rubicund vomitus.
I sure am trying my best to hide from my mortality, never mind if I'm going to die or not.
I waited in dread for the pungent tang of the puke to waft across the room and hit my nose. For whatever it was, it didn't. I was eternally thankful.
The show revolved around people avoiding the strategically placed land mine in the middle of a oft-used corridor in the emergency room.
Finally, the bladder won the battle. And as I eased myself, I heard a nurse screaming my name three times.
At the third call, I was fairly certain she could hear me, I went, "In the toilet!"
Got out and was promptly brought into the consultation area to see the doctor.
He wasn't sure what was wrong but he would test blood and urine and give me abdominal x-rays. But first, he'll inject some medicine in intravenously.
I don't know if he's still green but he missed the luxuriously large vein at the side of my forearm. I was in pain; I have a particularly low threshold for pain. I winced as he topo-ed with the needle, hoping to make entry into the vein. He actually sheared through the vein, if you ask me. I was after all a trained medic with the SAF. Was, but I know the pains of settling up lines.
After I decided he had enough opportunities to mince my muscle with the intruding needle, I asked the doctor to remove the needle and try another site.
But you'll feel pain again, he warned.
It's ok, do it.
Oh, there's blood. I must have hit it, he ejaculated as he removed the needle.
Oh, whatever. I thought.
I'm a patient here. I don't care what you need to do. The pain is to be expected. I know I'm here to be poked at but please give me some dignity. If you cannot get the act in the first try, give me the option of enduring a second pain but at a site where you are more confident of success. Trust me, I was lucid and sharp and I did not mind a second take for you despite my pain. The poor patients who you are trying to help are probably so battle hardened that they already don't care.
I am not even sure if these patients are at the hospital because they want to be treated or they had no choice because of familial pressures.
I know I'm there to get firsthand the diagnosis, if any.
Dr K hit jackpot on his second try and set up the intravenous plug. Good for him! Better for me. He took the blood sample, injected the medicine and sent me off for more tests.
The x-rays went fine but the pee sample collection was a little more challenging. Never thought I'd choke during such a performance. Man, I could give a sample any time. Well, almost any time.
Fear is a crippling emotion. Regardless of the severity, or lack of, for any patient facing any potentially life threatening event, his or her perspectives and priorities quickly play musical chairs. What was important then might no longer be equally important now.
The tests were done and I was given the "Clear - for now."
It is too early to call. Nothing will show up yet. Check that the pain does not come back again and migrate to the right. Dr K was somewhat sheepish for not being able to tell me anything more than something caused my intestines to be hyperactive.
And then Dr K removed the drip plug, which was accompanied by rather serious bleeding for a while.
Then my wallet was bled and was sent on my way home.
It was a good thing I am I am able to afford medical treatments. If I were chronically ill and chronically poor, I won't know what I would have done even if a stomach ache episode occurs.
But I am certain that the fear of our suddenly threatened mortality would not be any less. If anything, the inability to get treatment might have heightened the awareness of inevitable Death even more.
I woke up this morning at 3 am with a severe central abdominal pain. It was a widespread, periodic pain with varying intensity. Despite only hitting the bed at 1.30 am, the pain prevented me from going back to sleep.
I gingerly got out of bed and did my big one, hoping that the release of gases will relieve the pain a little. That was not to be. The pain came in a sharp torrent while I was seated on the throne. Something must be wrong.
Could it be appendicitis? I can't tell. I woke my housemate up at 3.30 am and asked to be sent to an emergency room.
While he showered and prepped, I packed an overnight bag. At that moment, I felt like I was going in because my water bag broke. Except I'm a guy.
He came out and asked me why I was all packed. I shrugged and said, "I want to be the first appendicitis patient to go in ready for admission, rather than have to rely on you coming back for my stuff."
He said I was crazy but how much do people know about needing to get busy so that the patient can forget the discomfort and suppress the fear.
As he drove down the rather desert highway to Singapore General Hospital, I wondered aloud what would have been a good outcome for this episode.
No diagnosis? Nah, I hate no-endings. Appendicitis? Sounds good. Look, I'm not going to die if it is. Stomach cancer...
Don't be silly, he said.
But my grandfather was admitted to the hospital during some Chinese New Year for severe stomach pains. He was diagnosed with stomach cancer and in less than 4 months, despite the aggressive treatment, he left. I replied.
Oh, shit. I haven't written my will. I thought to myself
We often wait till when we need it the most before we realise that we have not done what we should have. I'm a net asset person. In fact, I am just assets at the moment. I'm not servicing any loans. My bills all paid. I have decent insurance cover. But to die intestate would mean the state will screw my monies first.
Perhaps it time to set the house in order.
I wonder if appendicitis surgery can be done under epidural.
We just drove past the Changi Village exit on the highway, our journey a fifth done.
Yeah, right. They may think you're pregnant after all.
I wish. But at least I'll have a hell of an excuse to eat lots of food and grow fat. Baby needs to grow, you know.
The pain rippled the through the abdomen as the car bumped across half the island to SGH. One goes to SGH for the sake that its abbreviated name suggests "Sure Go Home". Changi General Hospital, which is nearer my place and would be where I would have arrived at when I spoke of eating and growing fat for the baby's growth, is some place I avoid. "Can Go Home" and "Cannot Go Home" are too close to call.
My thoughts quickly dissipated as the journey went on. I concentrated on dulling the pain through a mind over matter effort, until we arrived near the hospital. There was a slight hesitation on the driver's part what is the best approach. Being familiar with SGH, I directed him there.
Odd that he didn't put on the GPS to guide him. Perhaps I should remind him the next time.
Screening and triage at the hospital was quick. Not surprisingly, at 4 am, there were a few patients but not too many.
I waited a good 40 minutes or so before I was attended to.
The mind strayed and tried to block out the cruel joke the body played on your life. You begin to wonder if life needs to be a parasitical part of the body such that the parasite dies as the host expires.
The reading materials were dismal. The relatively light patient load simply meant fewer action for a drama lover like me.
As I fidgeted over whether I should go to relieve myself, a woman "merlioned" just outside the toilets.
She outdid Merlion. Hers was Technicolor puke, mainly reddish. Singapore Tourism Board needs to consider if Merlion can also get to throw up rubicund vomitus.
I sure am trying my best to hide from my mortality, never mind if I'm going to die or not.
I waited in dread for the pungent tang of the puke to waft across the room and hit my nose. For whatever it was, it didn't. I was eternally thankful.
The show revolved around people avoiding the strategically placed land mine in the middle of a oft-used corridor in the emergency room.
Finally, the bladder won the battle. And as I eased myself, I heard a nurse screaming my name three times.
At the third call, I was fairly certain she could hear me, I went, "In the toilet!"
Got out and was promptly brought into the consultation area to see the doctor.
He wasn't sure what was wrong but he would test blood and urine and give me abdominal x-rays. But first, he'll inject some medicine in intravenously.
I don't know if he's still green but he missed the luxuriously large vein at the side of my forearm. I was in pain; I have a particularly low threshold for pain. I winced as he topo-ed with the needle, hoping to make entry into the vein. He actually sheared through the vein, if you ask me. I was after all a trained medic with the SAF. Was, but I know the pains of settling up lines.
After I decided he had enough opportunities to mince my muscle with the intruding needle, I asked the doctor to remove the needle and try another site.
But you'll feel pain again, he warned.
It's ok, do it.
Oh, there's blood. I must have hit it, he ejaculated as he removed the needle.
Oh, whatever. I thought.
I'm a patient here. I don't care what you need to do. The pain is to be expected. I know I'm here to be poked at but please give me some dignity. If you cannot get the act in the first try, give me the option of enduring a second pain but at a site where you are more confident of success. Trust me, I was lucid and sharp and I did not mind a second take for you despite my pain. The poor patients who you are trying to help are probably so battle hardened that they already don't care.
I am not even sure if these patients are at the hospital because they want to be treated or they had no choice because of familial pressures.
I know I'm there to get firsthand the diagnosis, if any.
Dr K hit jackpot on his second try and set up the intravenous plug. Good for him! Better for me. He took the blood sample, injected the medicine and sent me off for more tests.
The x-rays went fine but the pee sample collection was a little more challenging. Never thought I'd choke during such a performance. Man, I could give a sample any time. Well, almost any time.
Fear is a crippling emotion. Regardless of the severity, or lack of, for any patient facing any potentially life threatening event, his or her perspectives and priorities quickly play musical chairs. What was important then might no longer be equally important now.
The tests were done and I was given the "Clear - for now."
It is too early to call. Nothing will show up yet. Check that the pain does not come back again and migrate to the right. Dr K was somewhat sheepish for not being able to tell me anything more than something caused my intestines to be hyperactive.
And then Dr K removed the drip plug, which was accompanied by rather serious bleeding for a while.
Then my wallet was bled and was sent on my way home.
It was a good thing I am I am able to afford medical treatments. If I were chronically ill and chronically poor, I won't know what I would have done even if a stomach ache episode occurs.
But I am certain that the fear of our suddenly threatened mortality would not be any less. If anything, the inability to get treatment might have heightened the awareness of inevitable Death even more.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Free China Warmth
Bought a quilt from Ikea just before Chinese New Year (mid Jan) to fit into the new quilt cover. The main reason was the northeast monsoon was a little cold, especially in the night, when the chill seemed to penetrate right into your bones.
As the weather became warmer and more humid, I decided that the quilt was no longer a necessity. Took the quilt and the cover out for a wash on Wednesday and completed doing laundry today. I like to soak the clothes to remove all smell and dirt. The quilt was washed according to the instructions on the label - gentle wash, low tumble dry. I also saw it was made in China.
Alas, the mesh covering of the quilt was tore as I removed it from the clothes dryer.
I did not see any damage when the quilt was first fitted into the cover, during or after the wash, and before I put it into the dryer. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to tell if it was torn because dry quilt was fluffy and everything was "huge and white, clean and bright."
The tear was not structural. One would expect to see the expanded herring bone structure of the knits if indeed the mesh covering was overstretched. But it wasn't. There were two holes, which I can best attribute to material fatigue. The mesh was constructed using iffy materials and the manufacturers probably expected the guarantees to run out when the damage is seen.
Took the torn quilt, marched to Ikea and got a refund. When giving the refund, the service counter guy reminded that such items had to be done in this way and that, giving stricter conditions that was prescribed by the label on the item. Looks like there is a deeper problem than this.
Moral of the story for Ikea: Outsource to China by all means; screw your own bottomlines.
As the quilt was returned, I reminded Ikea of their other product, a towelette, also from China, which was padded with small "cotton balls" to make it fluffy. But in the end, the balls came off during the laundry cycle and my entire laundry load was rendered useless because the balls stuck to the entire load. Some of my whites turned slightly greenish.
Moral of the story for consumers: If you can tolerate nonsense and have lots of time, buy the Chinese items. Quickly use and make sure they are spoilt by the end of the first use (and before the 100 day guarantee) and then return to Ikea to get your money back. Remember to stress that that was the first use.
I didn't expect free warmth to be most heartwarming. :)
As the weather became warmer and more humid, I decided that the quilt was no longer a necessity. Took the quilt and the cover out for a wash on Wednesday and completed doing laundry today. I like to soak the clothes to remove all smell and dirt. The quilt was washed according to the instructions on the label - gentle wash, low tumble dry. I also saw it was made in China.
Alas, the mesh covering of the quilt was tore as I removed it from the clothes dryer.
I did not see any damage when the quilt was first fitted into the cover, during or after the wash, and before I put it into the dryer. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to tell if it was torn because dry quilt was fluffy and everything was "huge and white, clean and bright."
The tear was not structural. One would expect to see the expanded herring bone structure of the knits if indeed the mesh covering was overstretched. But it wasn't. There were two holes, which I can best attribute to material fatigue. The mesh was constructed using iffy materials and the manufacturers probably expected the guarantees to run out when the damage is seen.
Took the torn quilt, marched to Ikea and got a refund. When giving the refund, the service counter guy reminded that such items had to be done in this way and that, giving stricter conditions that was prescribed by the label on the item. Looks like there is a deeper problem than this.
Moral of the story for Ikea: Outsource to China by all means; screw your own bottomlines.
As the quilt was returned, I reminded Ikea of their other product, a towelette, also from China, which was padded with small "cotton balls" to make it fluffy. But in the end, the balls came off during the laundry cycle and my entire laundry load was rendered useless because the balls stuck to the entire load. Some of my whites turned slightly greenish.
Moral of the story for consumers: If you can tolerate nonsense and have lots of time, buy the Chinese items. Quickly use and make sure they are spoilt by the end of the first use (and before the 100 day guarantee) and then return to Ikea to get your money back. Remember to stress that that was the first use.
I didn't expect free warmth to be most heartwarming. :)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Mr Stubborn
Me: Ok, have you looked through my comments in your essay draft and do you have any questions?
MS: Yes, I want to explain some of the things you said.
Me: What are the parts you are unclear?
MS: Why you say this part is not clear? This is what the article says.
Me: Oh, really? Show me the essay?
MS points to the part.
Me: You see, you are quoting something out of context. You need to provide some kind of transition to show why you can make a statement like this, and then you must provide the source of the information. You cannot make claims without any evidence or without acknowledging sources, especially when the claims are not yours. And if they are yours, you all the more need to provide proof, because such claims are highly argumentative and not everyone will agree.
MS: But this is what the essay says. Why must I need to write (the transition)?
Me: You see, whatever you have written before does not naturally lead to this conclusion. Therefore, you cannot make logical leaps like these. Your readers will not be able to understand, much less appreciate, what your point is.
MS: Then what about this part? Critics (of organ transplants) are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: Are you sure?
MS: Yes. Critics are insisting that the Dead Donor Rule (DDR) is followed and (the patient must be dead for at least) 3 minutes (before the pronouncement of death can be made). This way, they are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: I don't think you can make a case this way. You can say that the critics of organ transplants demand that the DDR and the timing for pronouncing death are followed because they do not want deaths to be hastened for the sake of harvesting organs.
MS: Then this is obstructing.
Me: No. Obstructing is more like they are stopping the organs from being transplanted. What they are doing here is to demand that strict procedures are followed.
MS: But then the organs cannot be used.
Me: Yes, the problem is two-fold. Critics want the death procedures to be followed and as a result, the lack of blood to the organs after death may render the organs unusable. But critics do not obstruct (organ transplants). They are just making sure that the potential donors die and remain dead. You cannot claim more than what is stated in the article.
[This is really a nuanced argument. It is hard to argue for obstruction. Unless they are like Greenpeace activists steering their boats into the path of the Japanese whaling fleet, how can the requirement to merely follow rules be obstruction? I would have acquiesced if he argued that the critics rely on stringent rules on dead donors, which in turns cause the number of transplantable organ to be reduced. In addition to obstruction, the Me vs MS exchanged included a disagreement on the correct use of "merely" and "only".]
MS (referring to another point): Why can't I make my point this way? Why must I have proof?
Me: Can you show me your articles? Oh, but these articles are short case studies and many discrete examples. There are no arguments in there for you to use for defending your claims.
[MS used 8 printed sides of articles, mostly from those trashy self-help websites to write a 10 page academic research paper where he intends to argue that the quality of life of patients needing transplants may be improved if the tranplant laws are relaxed.)
MS: Can't I derive my own arguments from the examples?
Me: How can you derive your arguments?
MS: I read the example and I think of an orginal argument to explain.
Me: How can an example be used to prove a claim? You need to have many examples before you can find out trends to make conjectures. Claims are advanced stuff!
MS: So what's wrong with me coming up with claims?
Me: Ok, fine. Suppose you want to argue... (look at his draft) that a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades. So where is your evidence on this?
MS: Here. (Shows me a 4 line paragraph in a 2.5 page long article.)
Me: You need to write a 10 page essay with 4 supporting articles. A point like this (a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades) will take about 3/4 to 1 page to complete. So you only one piece of evidence in the form of an example?
MS: No, no! The other two passages (out of three) also have this point.
Me: Show me.
[MS flips the 4 sides to high heavens but find nothing. I notice that the paragraphs in those two articles are mainly two to three lines long.]
MS: I can't find it now.
Me: No problem. Tell me, those two articles are also giving you examples only, right?
MS: Yes.
Me: Then what authority are you going to rely on? What kind of evidence do you have?
MS: I can write my own argument.
Me: How do you write your own argument?
MS: I use the examples and write your own argument.
Me: This isn't going to work. Look, you cannot rely on examples or mere case studies to write an argument. You need to have arguments from authorities. People who are experts in this field write claims but these claims are based on large number of cases or if they have extensively followed certain cases over a long period of time. Their arguments are therefore more believable than our own arguments. Are you a transplant expert?
MS: No.
Me: Neither am I. The point is, if your essay is going to be a rehash of the examples, then you are flogging a dead horse. What you need to do is to come up with a position or a claim and then support your position by citing the evidence you have, both from the experts and from examples. You can imagine your claim as an umbrella under which the information you find is placed below to prop the umbrella up.
MS: What's the difference? Didn't you say that if I repeat the evidence, I'm flogging a dead horse? So what are you doing differently?
Me: I have a claim which is backed up by claims from other experts and examples from them. I am quoting research and proposing to extend the boundary of the subject under discussion. I did not merely find evidence that I think will work and then fix the arguments to fit it. I make arguments that can be defended, not one that is applicable only for a case.
You are extremely good at taking things out of context. You have done it for assignment 2 and you've done badly. You've done it for the draft and done badly for it too. Now, even when I have explained what you should do, you ignore parts of what I tell you and simply take the discussion out of context and place words in my mouth.
I don't contradict myself. I am very clear what needs to go into the essay.
[MS is visibly shocked.]
In the context of the point "a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades," what I expect to see is very clear. I will need an argument or a claim of this by some health ministry of some country, some health analyst, or some healthcare observer. I need to see evidence of black market activity in countries with stringent laws (say, Singapore) and what the people are doing to procure organs from black markets from within or beyond Singapore and I need to see a contrast example say for Iran where laws are lax and the number of black market trades is lower. This way, you can support your argument and prove your point.
Your chosen articles are way too short. There is no way you can find anything of substance or value there unless you change the articles. Examples do not an argument make. You need to appeal to the experts.
Academic research writing has a convention you have to follow. The kinds of evidence that are admissible in research are more or less restricted to a few types. You are unlikely to be able to conduct experiments by yourself to then analyse the results. You cannot depend on discrete examples to generalise (findings). Things do not work this way.
MS: So I'll need to work on the articles and find things with arguments.
Me: Yes. Don't you find it odd that your Assignment 3 articles are so elementary compared to the prescribed articles for Assignments 1 and 2? If such kiddy readings can be used for academic research, then why do I bother to kill myself by making students work on those readings?
You can decide whatever you want to do with your work but this is far from what is acceptable. Please work on it.
[MS picked up his materials after the gruelling 30 minute exchange, which was 20 minutes overtime, and walked out of the room. As he walked out and the door closed, I heard murmurs of approval from the rest of the students waiting for their turn for conferencing. Some of the students after MS credited my for my tremendous patience and not biting MS' head off. I am amazed myself.]
MS: Yes, I want to explain some of the things you said.
Me: What are the parts you are unclear?
MS: Why you say this part is not clear? This is what the article says.
Me: Oh, really? Show me the essay?
MS points to the part.
Me: You see, you are quoting something out of context. You need to provide some kind of transition to show why you can make a statement like this, and then you must provide the source of the information. You cannot make claims without any evidence or without acknowledging sources, especially when the claims are not yours. And if they are yours, you all the more need to provide proof, because such claims are highly argumentative and not everyone will agree.
MS: But this is what the essay says. Why must I need to write (the transition)?
Me: You see, whatever you have written before does not naturally lead to this conclusion. Therefore, you cannot make logical leaps like these. Your readers will not be able to understand, much less appreciate, what your point is.
MS: Then what about this part? Critics (of organ transplants) are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: Are you sure?
MS: Yes. Critics are insisting that the Dead Donor Rule (DDR) is followed and (the patient must be dead for at least) 3 minutes (before the pronouncement of death can be made). This way, they are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: I don't think you can make a case this way. You can say that the critics of organ transplants demand that the DDR and the timing for pronouncing death are followed because they do not want deaths to be hastened for the sake of harvesting organs.
MS: Then this is obstructing.
Me: No. Obstructing is more like they are stopping the organs from being transplanted. What they are doing here is to demand that strict procedures are followed.
MS: But then the organs cannot be used.
Me: Yes, the problem is two-fold. Critics want the death procedures to be followed and as a result, the lack of blood to the organs after death may render the organs unusable. But critics do not obstruct (organ transplants). They are just making sure that the potential donors die and remain dead. You cannot claim more than what is stated in the article.
[This is really a nuanced argument. It is hard to argue for obstruction. Unless they are like Greenpeace activists steering their boats into the path of the Japanese whaling fleet, how can the requirement to merely follow rules be obstruction? I would have acquiesced if he argued that the critics rely on stringent rules on dead donors, which in turns cause the number of transplantable organ to be reduced. In addition to obstruction, the Me vs MS exchanged included a disagreement on the correct use of "merely" and "only".]
MS (referring to another point): Why can't I make my point this way? Why must I have proof?
Me: Can you show me your articles? Oh, but these articles are short case studies and many discrete examples. There are no arguments in there for you to use for defending your claims.
[MS used 8 printed sides of articles, mostly from those trashy self-help websites to write a 10 page academic research paper where he intends to argue that the quality of life of patients needing transplants may be improved if the tranplant laws are relaxed.)
MS: Can't I derive my own arguments from the examples?
Me: How can you derive your arguments?
MS: I read the example and I think of an orginal argument to explain.
Me: How can an example be used to prove a claim? You need to have many examples before you can find out trends to make conjectures. Claims are advanced stuff!
MS: So what's wrong with me coming up with claims?
Me: Ok, fine. Suppose you want to argue... (look at his draft) that a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades. So where is your evidence on this?
MS: Here. (Shows me a 4 line paragraph in a 2.5 page long article.)
Me: You need to write a 10 page essay with 4 supporting articles. A point like this (a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades) will take about 3/4 to 1 page to complete. So you only one piece of evidence in the form of an example?
MS: No, no! The other two passages (out of three) also have this point.
Me: Show me.
[MS flips the 4 sides to high heavens but find nothing. I notice that the paragraphs in those two articles are mainly two to three lines long.]
MS: I can't find it now.
Me: No problem. Tell me, those two articles are also giving you examples only, right?
MS: Yes.
Me: Then what authority are you going to rely on? What kind of evidence do you have?
MS: I can write my own argument.
Me: How do you write your own argument?
MS: I use the examples and write your own argument.
Me: This isn't going to work. Look, you cannot rely on examples or mere case studies to write an argument. You need to have arguments from authorities. People who are experts in this field write claims but these claims are based on large number of cases or if they have extensively followed certain cases over a long period of time. Their arguments are therefore more believable than our own arguments. Are you a transplant expert?
MS: No.
Me: Neither am I. The point is, if your essay is going to be a rehash of the examples, then you are flogging a dead horse. What you need to do is to come up with a position or a claim and then support your position by citing the evidence you have, both from the experts and from examples. You can imagine your claim as an umbrella under which the information you find is placed below to prop the umbrella up.
MS: What's the difference? Didn't you say that if I repeat the evidence, I'm flogging a dead horse? So what are you doing differently?
Me: I have a claim which is backed up by claims from other experts and examples from them. I am quoting research and proposing to extend the boundary of the subject under discussion. I did not merely find evidence that I think will work and then fix the arguments to fit it. I make arguments that can be defended, not one that is applicable only for a case.
You are extremely good at taking things out of context. You have done it for assignment 2 and you've done badly. You've done it for the draft and done badly for it too. Now, even when I have explained what you should do, you ignore parts of what I tell you and simply take the discussion out of context and place words in my mouth.
I don't contradict myself. I am very clear what needs to go into the essay.
[MS is visibly shocked.]
In the context of the point "a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades," what I expect to see is very clear. I will need an argument or a claim of this by some health ministry of some country, some health analyst, or some healthcare observer. I need to see evidence of black market activity in countries with stringent laws (say, Singapore) and what the people are doing to procure organs from black markets from within or beyond Singapore and I need to see a contrast example say for Iran where laws are lax and the number of black market trades is lower. This way, you can support your argument and prove your point.
Your chosen articles are way too short. There is no way you can find anything of substance or value there unless you change the articles. Examples do not an argument make. You need to appeal to the experts.
Academic research writing has a convention you have to follow. The kinds of evidence that are admissible in research are more or less restricted to a few types. You are unlikely to be able to conduct experiments by yourself to then analyse the results. You cannot depend on discrete examples to generalise (findings). Things do not work this way.
MS: So I'll need to work on the articles and find things with arguments.
Me: Yes. Don't you find it odd that your Assignment 3 articles are so elementary compared to the prescribed articles for Assignments 1 and 2? If such kiddy readings can be used for academic research, then why do I bother to kill myself by making students work on those readings?
You can decide whatever you want to do with your work but this is far from what is acceptable. Please work on it.
[MS picked up his materials after the gruelling 30 minute exchange, which was 20 minutes overtime, and walked out of the room. As he walked out and the door closed, I heard murmurs of approval from the rest of the students waiting for their turn for conferencing. Some of the students after MS credited my for my tremendous patience and not biting MS' head off. I am amazed myself.]
In the oven
In the oven now is 2 kg of pig belly meat liberally marinated with garlic (toast) mix, garlic salt, miracle salt (to clear), brown sugar, rosemary, black pepper, pinch of chilli powder, pinch of cinnamon, handful of apricots, olive oil and martini. The martini was a desparate move because I didn't have a mortar and pestle and the blender I used was unable to pick up the minute quantities to mix together.
I marinated the meat and then stuffed the centre with cranberries, tied them up, placed in a baking tray, separated the two rolled pieces of meat with two heads of smelly roses, dumped 12 shallots all round and sent it in to bake.
Underneath, I placed a smoke package containing ginger tea leaves, rice and some brown sugar. I wet the package and I may have overdone it. No smoke coming out yet but well, the oven must be a little piece of heaven now.
If this works, it'll be a recipe for the next dinner party. Yay....
PS. The meat turned out gorgeous. Succulent and with good bite. Slight crust and lean. I would do without the martini the next time, though. I am not a martini fan after all.
I marinated the meat and then stuffed the centre with cranberries, tied them up, placed in a baking tray, separated the two rolled pieces of meat with two heads of smelly roses, dumped 12 shallots all round and sent it in to bake.
Underneath, I placed a smoke package containing ginger tea leaves, rice and some brown sugar. I wet the package and I may have overdone it. No smoke coming out yet but well, the oven must be a little piece of heaven now.
If this works, it'll be a recipe for the next dinner party. Yay....
PS. The meat turned out gorgeous. Succulent and with good bite. Slight crust and lean. I would do without the martini the next time, though. I am not a martini fan after all.
The Cleaning Lady is Sick
Wednesdays - the cleaning lady is supposed to visit today.
I woke up early and cleared out the sheets, hoping that she can help me fit them in when she visited.
Then she called to say she is sick.
OMG. Now I have to fit in my own sheets. O.*||| Black eye. Sigh.
I woke up early and cleared out the sheets, hoping that she can help me fit them in when she visited.
Then she called to say she is sick.
OMG. Now I have to fit in my own sheets. O.*||| Black eye. Sigh.
Loan to refer
Some clown loaned an essay from a friend to refer to it for ideas.
He took more than ideas. He cut and pasted the source to his own essay so liberally.
And how did I find out? Remember I marked softcopy essays this time around? My comments appeared in the submitted essay even before I started grading the paper.
How silly is that?!
He took more than ideas. He cut and pasted the source to his own essay so liberally.
And how did I find out? Remember I marked softcopy essays this time around? My comments appeared in the submitted essay even before I started grading the paper.
How silly is that?!
How irresponsible is that?
A student missed the draft submission deadline last Friday. Fine, since many students asked for and were granted extensions (yes, don't doubt me, my fuse has become much longer and more inert these days), I decided to give her an extension by 24 hours to Saturday, 5 pm without her asking for it.
On Sunday just past midnight, I checked the returns against the namelists and realised five students have missed their Saturday, 5 pm deadlines. So I wrote a note to remind them to send in their papers soonest possible. I asked them not to ask for any more extensions but to send in the papers once they receive the email.
Papers streamed in. One girl placed the draft in my school mailbox on Saturday afternoon. Hey, I'm not that well-paid to go there. Another guy did the same late Friday and apologised for his shortsightedness in not sending a soft copy. No problem either.
A second girl explained she misunderstood our conversation regarding her submissions and thought she had a longer extension than that. (Of course, she did not write me the email to confirm, which I didn't bother to point out). I accepted her explanation and granted her an extension to Sunday 5 pm. See, Mr Nicer and Nicer guy, right?
Another guy wrote to say that he's still helping out with his family after his cousin got killed in an accident. Fine, he got an extension to Monday, noon.
And there is Miss Ying YIN Ack Shen, who did not bother to reply to my email. She submitted her draft on Monday at 1 pm and promptly asked to be granted a writing conference since I won't be in school on Thursday. However, on 10 Mar, I already informed the entire class of my absence and the affected students signed up for new conferencing slots! She had her excuses and her story but until she can produce the medical certificates to support her "I was very sick" excuse, I don't think she can escape the penalty for 3 absences. I mean, how sick can one be? No student can claim that s/he/it cannot contact me because my email and cellphone contacts are permanently at the top of the announcements list in the class page on the university network. Anyone, she will likely pay for her irresponsibility; one writing conference counts for 3 presences or absences for the 14-week, 28-meeting course. Good luck to her!
I cannot believe how infinitely more patient I have become but certainly, the limits still exist. Just watch it when I swipe my tail at you.
On Sunday just past midnight, I checked the returns against the namelists and realised five students have missed their Saturday, 5 pm deadlines. So I wrote a note to remind them to send in their papers soonest possible. I asked them not to ask for any more extensions but to send in the papers once they receive the email.
Papers streamed in. One girl placed the draft in my school mailbox on Saturday afternoon. Hey, I'm not that well-paid to go there. Another guy did the same late Friday and apologised for his shortsightedness in not sending a soft copy. No problem either.
A second girl explained she misunderstood our conversation regarding her submissions and thought she had a longer extension than that. (Of course, she did not write me the email to confirm, which I didn't bother to point out). I accepted her explanation and granted her an extension to Sunday 5 pm. See, Mr Nicer and Nicer guy, right?
Another guy wrote to say that he's still helping out with his family after his cousin got killed in an accident. Fine, he got an extension to Monday, noon.
And there is Miss Ying YIN Ack Shen, who did not bother to reply to my email. She submitted her draft on Monday at 1 pm and promptly asked to be granted a writing conference since I won't be in school on Thursday. However, on 10 Mar, I already informed the entire class of my absence and the affected students signed up for new conferencing slots! She had her excuses and her story but until she can produce the medical certificates to support her "I was very sick" excuse, I don't think she can escape the penalty for 3 absences. I mean, how sick can one be? No student can claim that s/he/it cannot contact me because my email and cellphone contacts are permanently at the top of the announcements list in the class page on the university network. Anyone, she will likely pay for her irresponsibility; one writing conference counts for 3 presences or absences for the 14-week, 28-meeting course. Good luck to her!
I cannot believe how infinitely more patient I have become but certainly, the limits still exist. Just watch it when I swipe my tail at you.
Updates
The minute the last assignment was graded, the drafts for the next assignment were due in and there was a tonne to grade to prepare for the writing conferences on those drafts.
I tried to grade mostly on softcopies this time. As the number of writing conferences had been reduced from 4 to 3, I no longer have the luxury to play "Joker" when marking. I had better put in the comments and direct the students what to do rather than put my infamous "HUH???" or "???" and explain during the conference. As a result, I spend more time grading. But the track function is really useful and this time around, many of the students who came to me had an inkling what to do and many of them have already started work on the drafts even before the writing conference. Some of the students needed clarifications on the comments but by and large, the outcome was good.
One thing was got my goat though. Students who were due for later conferences were bugging me for their marked drafts. This was immensely infuriating. People who know my know that my work goes out once it is complete, unless there is a good reason for holding back. I am marking my life away trying to make sense of the poor writing and yet, people are chasing for their graded stuff. This is entirely crazy. How would a student, who bugs me for work I'm trying to complete and therefore messes with my mood, be able to get me to work faster? The other thing, if the drafts were any better, I would be able to mark faster too. Alas, the latter instances were rare.
Because it was softcopy grading and I did not have the luxury to be able to hold their hands to teach them how to write, I also did rather extensive re-writing to show the kiddies how the essay should be written. Of course, I remember what I write and I also know if there are mistakes. Those mistakes are for the students to figure out and correct them. I can't be marking and grading my own work. I can surely assist but certainly, the students must put in their fair share of work.
This time around, I expect to see more exciting essays. I thought "Live/Leave" would end up being ethics intensive. But in the end, it's all about human beings. What should you do and why do you think you should/could do it? Can you clear your own moral standards for presenting it? I hope to do a second run of the course come Term 2 2009/2010. Next term, I might be jointly offering a new course - The Art Market.
My area of interets are getting wider and more and more esoteric. Who would have thought I'd be interested in the Art Market? Not me.
Let's see what happens.
I tried to grade mostly on softcopies this time. As the number of writing conferences had been reduced from 4 to 3, I no longer have the luxury to play "Joker" when marking. I had better put in the comments and direct the students what to do rather than put my infamous "HUH???" or "???" and explain during the conference. As a result, I spend more time grading. But the track function is really useful and this time around, many of the students who came to me had an inkling what to do and many of them have already started work on the drafts even before the writing conference. Some of the students needed clarifications on the comments but by and large, the outcome was good.
One thing was got my goat though. Students who were due for later conferences were bugging me for their marked drafts. This was immensely infuriating. People who know my know that my work goes out once it is complete, unless there is a good reason for holding back. I am marking my life away trying to make sense of the poor writing and yet, people are chasing for their graded stuff. This is entirely crazy. How would a student, who bugs me for work I'm trying to complete and therefore messes with my mood, be able to get me to work faster? The other thing, if the drafts were any better, I would be able to mark faster too. Alas, the latter instances were rare.
Because it was softcopy grading and I did not have the luxury to be able to hold their hands to teach them how to write, I also did rather extensive re-writing to show the kiddies how the essay should be written. Of course, I remember what I write and I also know if there are mistakes. Those mistakes are for the students to figure out and correct them. I can't be marking and grading my own work. I can surely assist but certainly, the students must put in their fair share of work.
This time around, I expect to see more exciting essays. I thought "Live/Leave" would end up being ethics intensive. But in the end, it's all about human beings. What should you do and why do you think you should/could do it? Can you clear your own moral standards for presenting it? I hope to do a second run of the course come Term 2 2009/2010. Next term, I might be jointly offering a new course - The Art Market.
My area of interets are getting wider and more and more esoteric. Who would have thought I'd be interested in the Art Market? Not me.
Let's see what happens.
Friday, March 06, 2009
The Recession in Pictures
Newsweek has done a great article comparing the current recession with past recessions.
Particularly interesting is their use of graphics. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Like graphic porn. Except financial depression pics are kind of "porn-exciting" to innocent bystanders like me, though generally not at all invigorating. The pics make me review my values and my tolerance for risk, which I am not willing to divulge.
In this context, the two pictures "The Recession Rebound", where it attempts to show none is in sight yet, and "Big, Bad Bears", where it compares how the current, ongoing recession is the next worst to the Great Depression, are probably worth two million Diazapam, I mean, jitters. Ok, TF will say "Take two Vicodin and call him tomorrow" but until you put key to lock (still on TF, that is), how can throwing "lousy wood into the fire" put the fire out? Not only do you end up feeding the fire, you choke from the noxious fumes.
Ah, but commonsense has long gone into the Great Depression since... Probligo would be an authority to write on this here.
Anyway, keep your money safe. Keep it in your pillow. Better yet, shred it and keep it in your pillow. And then join the KGB - they'll teach you how to reconsititute shredded papers; their agents successfully stole secrets by doing that during some espionage operation during the Cold War. Al's probably running one big clandestine ops in the deep mountains already.
Man, I'm bored. Time for more shopping?
Particularly interesting is their use of graphics. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Like graphic porn. Except financial depression pics are kind of "porn-exciting" to innocent bystanders like me, though generally not at all invigorating. The pics make me review my values and my tolerance for risk, which I am not willing to divulge.
In this context, the two pictures "The Recession Rebound", where it attempts to show none is in sight yet, and "Big, Bad Bears", where it compares how the current, ongoing recession is the next worst to the Great Depression, are probably worth two million Diazapam, I mean, jitters. Ok, TF will say "Take two Vicodin and call him tomorrow" but until you put key to lock (still on TF, that is), how can throwing "lousy wood into the fire" put the fire out? Not only do you end up feeding the fire, you choke from the noxious fumes.
Ah, but commonsense has long gone into the Great Depression since... Probligo would be an authority to write on this here.
Anyway, keep your money safe. Keep it in your pillow. Better yet, shred it and keep it in your pillow. And then join the KGB - they'll teach you how to reconsititute shredded papers; their agents successfully stole secrets by doing that during some espionage operation during the Cold War. Al's probably running one big clandestine ops in the deep mountains already.
Man, I'm bored. Time for more shopping?
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Banned: Whereby
I banned whereby in my writing class. This ban extends to both speech and writing. Sigh. Someone should compensate me for the trauma.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Grading
Had been grading papers for the past two weeks.
It's been really tough marking papers that were written in the last minute.
If I get a dollar for each mistake I find, I probably am ready to put a 20% downpayment for a condominium already. And make that a District 10 condo!
It's been really tough marking papers that were written in the last minute.
If I get a dollar for each mistake I find, I probably am ready to put a 20% downpayment for a condominium already. And make that a District 10 condo!
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Grandma vs Double Decker
Morning bus to the MRT. Took 89, which was unusual, because it was not my favourite but. I prefer to take 5 or 6 instead.
Stopped at the stop opposite White Sands. There was a surge of passengers getting on the bus as I alighted.
After pushing my way through the zombie crowd either looking at their handphones or finding their momentum after getting out of bed (hey, I'm fast as long as I am on my feet, regardless of the time of day. I don't really know how to walk slowly.)
As I approached the pedestrian crossing, I happened to see a double decker bus stopped right after the bus bay exit. There was a little crowd there. It was but 6.45am and people being people, a crowd was not...
Oh, I see. There was a 60-ish old woman, rather plump, facing down. From the looks of where she lay and where the bus stop, the outcome of the match was pretty evident. Before the lights turned green for me to cross, an ambulance approached.
Hard for me to have any sympathies. She was knocked down three steps from the pedestrian crossing. No reason for her not to use the official crossing. If she decided to dash across the road, then what? I feel sorry for the bus driver though. Perhaps only drivers will have more sympathies for the bus driver.
True, it was an accident which probably could have been avoided, but often, looking at the erratic way residents of my town dash cross roads with minimal warning to the drivers, this is probably an accident waiting to happen, a life waiting to be taken.
I don't know. But maybe she died...
Stopped at the stop opposite White Sands. There was a surge of passengers getting on the bus as I alighted.
After pushing my way through the zombie crowd either looking at their handphones or finding their momentum after getting out of bed (hey, I'm fast as long as I am on my feet, regardless of the time of day. I don't really know how to walk slowly.)
As I approached the pedestrian crossing, I happened to see a double decker bus stopped right after the bus bay exit. There was a little crowd there. It was but 6.45am and people being people, a crowd was not...
Oh, I see. There was a 60-ish old woman, rather plump, facing down. From the looks of where she lay and where the bus stop, the outcome of the match was pretty evident. Before the lights turned green for me to cross, an ambulance approached.
Hard for me to have any sympathies. She was knocked down three steps from the pedestrian crossing. No reason for her not to use the official crossing. If she decided to dash across the road, then what? I feel sorry for the bus driver though. Perhaps only drivers will have more sympathies for the bus driver.
True, it was an accident which probably could have been avoided, but often, looking at the erratic way residents of my town dash cross roads with minimal warning to the drivers, this is probably an accident waiting to happen, a life waiting to be taken.
I don't know. But maybe she died...
Monday, March 02, 2009
Thermal Pot
I figured out how to cook really tasty rice in a thermal pot. In fact, I have been using the thermal pot quite a bit since it was bought. The pot was actually on sale at Giant Hypermarket for S$70 depends on the principle of heat conservation to cook your food. Instead of relying on direct sustained heat from the stove for cooking, the pot retains heat and uses it to sustain the high temperature so that food continues cooking the food slowly using the remainder heat.
In a way, this represents a saving in gas consumption. And it also does not let the food burn or boil over. Furthermore, you can leave the food inside the pot for as long as you want and even after 10 hours, the food is still warm enough that it tastes good without reheating.
For the really uninitiated, a thermal pot consists of an external insulation pot and an internal pot. Essentially, you will boil the stuff that you need to cook in the internal pot for no less than 10 minutes. Then you turn off the fire and transfer this internal pot to sit in the external insulation pot. The insulation maintains the high temperature for a long time and a few hours later, you'll actually have great stew.
The important thing is this: the food gets cooked, you save gas and you save time. It's been a good buy so far and most soups and desserts requiring extended boiling times are good when cooked this way.
The only minor adjustments that need to be done are to reduce the quantity of water and increase the quantity of ingredients. After all, the lack of evaporation will have some impact on your food.
Essentially, rice is simple. Boil the rice and the water in the internal pot for about 5 minutes (small amounts) and then lock it in the external pot for 3 hours. My goodness, when you look at those cooked, shiny glistening rice grains, tell me who's appetite won't be whetted.
In a way, this represents a saving in gas consumption. And it also does not let the food burn or boil over. Furthermore, you can leave the food inside the pot for as long as you want and even after 10 hours, the food is still warm enough that it tastes good without reheating.
For the really uninitiated, a thermal pot consists of an external insulation pot and an internal pot. Essentially, you will boil the stuff that you need to cook in the internal pot for no less than 10 minutes. Then you turn off the fire and transfer this internal pot to sit in the external insulation pot. The insulation maintains the high temperature for a long time and a few hours later, you'll actually have great stew.
The important thing is this: the food gets cooked, you save gas and you save time. It's been a good buy so far and most soups and desserts requiring extended boiling times are good when cooked this way.
The only minor adjustments that need to be done are to reduce the quantity of water and increase the quantity of ingredients. After all, the lack of evaporation will have some impact on your food.
Essentially, rice is simple. Boil the rice and the water in the internal pot for about 5 minutes (small amounts) and then lock it in the external pot for 3 hours. My goodness, when you look at those cooked, shiny glistening rice grains, tell me who's appetite won't be whetted.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
What a steal
Got a $98 Seiko Wall Clock for $68. How exciting.
Our old wall clock died. Stopped, short, and never budged ever again. It was a cheapo clock that I paid about $10 for. I've been looking for a clock to replace the old one since it retired. And as I walked in Loyang Point, my regular watch shop has resumed business and it had placed several clocks on sale, two of which are appropriate replacements. I would have bought the Citizen $38 clock (down from $68) if it had a brown frame. But it was in turquoise and I really didn't see how turquoise is going to fit the house purple and wood theme.
Thus, the Seiko clock was selected as it had a wooden frame. Sigh, talk about vanity.
Our old wall clock died. Stopped, short, and never budged ever again. It was a cheapo clock that I paid about $10 for. I've been looking for a clock to replace the old one since it retired. And as I walked in Loyang Point, my regular watch shop has resumed business and it had placed several clocks on sale, two of which are appropriate replacements. I would have bought the Citizen $38 clock (down from $68) if it had a brown frame. But it was in turquoise and I really didn't see how turquoise is going to fit the house purple and wood theme.
Thus, the Seiko clock was selected as it had a wooden frame. Sigh, talk about vanity.
Headphones
Finally decided to let my ears be less troubled by investing in a pair of noise cancelling headphones.
Now I have an iPod Shuffle to go with it.
I should be enjoying myself but somehow I am not. I guess it must be the trama from the grading that makes me want to get retail therapy to console myself.
How I love shopping.
Now I have an iPod Shuffle to go with it.
I should be enjoying myself but somehow I am not. I guess it must be the trama from the grading that makes me want to get retail therapy to console myself.
How I love shopping.
Chemical Burns
Cleared out the remaining romaine lettuce sitting in my fridge last Sunday after the class gathering last Saturday.
Ate it with an onion, balsamic vinegar and olive oil. And right after, my mouth felt just wrong.
Just saw a doctor after lots of misery. A weeks' worth.
After checking me, doc decided that my bumps, oral dryness (there is lots of saliva produced, no thirst but the skin feels so parched), and the suspect discomfort is a case of chemical burns from food.
Don't ask me. I don't know any better either.
Ate it with an onion, balsamic vinegar and olive oil. And right after, my mouth felt just wrong.
Just saw a doctor after lots of misery. A weeks' worth.
After checking me, doc decided that my bumps, oral dryness (there is lots of saliva produced, no thirst but the skin feels so parched), and the suspect discomfort is a case of chemical burns from food.
Don't ask me. I don't know any better either.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
What is my passion?
In the Straits Times yesterday:
10 months for sex with student
A MARRIED ex-teacher yesterday became the first woman jailed here for having sex with an underage boy.
The 32-year-old mother of two, who pleaded guilty earlier this month, will serve 10 months in jail for being intimate with the boy, then 15, a former pupil of the primary school where she taught.
Her conviction comes a year after the Penal Code was changed to make sex between an adult woman and a boy below 16 a crime.
The slim, bespectacled woman, who cannot be named to protect the boy's identity, listened impassively as District Judge Sarjit Singh handed down her sentence, but broke down at the close of the proceedings.
None of her relatives were in court.
In deciding her punishment, the judge said he took into account the fact that she had to give up her teaching career as a result of her actions.
He also noted that she was the one who went to the police - even if it was only because the boy refused to end the relationship and threatened to harm her and her family.
But the judge said that a 'serious breach of trust' had taken place, so a significant penalty was called for.
The court also heard that the boy, who had no previous history of violent behaviour, was violent when she wanted to end their affair. The details are unavailable.
The woman could have been jailed for up to 10 years and fined.
Source
The new Ministry of Education advertisements for attracting people to join teaching have been spot on: "What is my passion? Children. That's why I became a teacher."
I only wish I could find a copy of the advertisement to put here.
10 months for sex with student
A MARRIED ex-teacher yesterday became the first woman jailed here for having sex with an underage boy.
The 32-year-old mother of two, who pleaded guilty earlier this month, will serve 10 months in jail for being intimate with the boy, then 15, a former pupil of the primary school where she taught.
Her conviction comes a year after the Penal Code was changed to make sex between an adult woman and a boy below 16 a crime.
The slim, bespectacled woman, who cannot be named to protect the boy's identity, listened impassively as District Judge Sarjit Singh handed down her sentence, but broke down at the close of the proceedings.
None of her relatives were in court.
In deciding her punishment, the judge said he took into account the fact that she had to give up her teaching career as a result of her actions.
He also noted that she was the one who went to the police - even if it was only because the boy refused to end the relationship and threatened to harm her and her family.
But the judge said that a 'serious breach of trust' had taken place, so a significant penalty was called for.
The court also heard that the boy, who had no previous history of violent behaviour, was violent when she wanted to end their affair. The details are unavailable.
The woman could have been jailed for up to 10 years and fined.
Source
The new Ministry of Education advertisements for attracting people to join teaching have been spot on: "What is my passion? Children. That's why I became a teacher."
I only wish I could find a copy of the advertisement to put here.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Political cartoon
Wonder if anyone out there would be interested to help me convert whatever is below into a visual cartoon. I wish to send it to NYT and see if I can make the cut as a political cartoonist.
Major bonfire fueled by wood pieces called subprime, Madoff, Lehman, AIA, Auto industry...
Big pot of water being boiled over the fire, name of pot - American Economy
Live frogs in the water, eyes glazed because of the heat, moving limbs as though enjoying the sauna, frog bellies slightly bloated
Tribal chief Obama sits by the fire, tries to keep the frogs alive by adding slivers ice chips (financial aid). There is a leaking cooler box (treasury) beside him, with the lid exposed and shows little remaining ice is inside.
Oh, for dramatic effect, just have the rest of the G7 leaders crowding around looking at Obama conduct the experiment called "The Live but Boiled Frog Paradox".
Honestly, the idea came when I was teaching in class yesterday. I heard that one student has dropped out of college and someone asked if it was due to financial diffuculties. I reflected on why things are that bad now and the image of the frogs being boiled alive came to my mind almost immediately.
We are in a slow meltdown. The whole world is in a mess because no one dares to do anything about it. Take the frogs out of the water and you'll have to contend with the din and their running around. Remove the pot from the fire and you'll stop all activities. Remove the logs from the fire and you'll risk burning yourself.
There is no easy way out and no one wants to face the problem squarely. The aid rendered by various governments so far are just stop-gap measures. In the long run, even if the people don't die, they end up severely burnt and half dead.
I think the best thing to do is to let the market collapse straightaway. Then tell those who are not performing that they have to choose between the prescribed way and the highway. And then expend your remaining money to rebuild.
View this meltdown as a reset button for the economy. Or the snake that leads you back to square one. It is a bitter fruit from our well-cultivated and richly fertilized greed plant. We have no choice but to have to eat what we have grown. It is a bitter pill but since when have medicine tasted good?
We are dragging out the inevitable. We are hoping that we will have enough ice chips to keep the frogs alive to last till the flames go out. Unfortunately, like the Australian forest fires, there are more logs that are waiting to burn. A spark is all that is needed. And we are dangerously low on ice chips.
We the ordinary frogs should not be boiled alive because the people up there are making crap decisions.
Major bonfire fueled by wood pieces called subprime, Madoff, Lehman, AIA, Auto industry...
Big pot of water being boiled over the fire, name of pot - American Economy
Live frogs in the water, eyes glazed because of the heat, moving limbs as though enjoying the sauna, frog bellies slightly bloated
Tribal chief Obama sits by the fire, tries to keep the frogs alive by adding slivers ice chips (financial aid). There is a leaking cooler box (treasury) beside him, with the lid exposed and shows little remaining ice is inside.
Oh, for dramatic effect, just have the rest of the G7 leaders crowding around looking at Obama conduct the experiment called "The Live but Boiled Frog Paradox".
Honestly, the idea came when I was teaching in class yesterday. I heard that one student has dropped out of college and someone asked if it was due to financial diffuculties. I reflected on why things are that bad now and the image of the frogs being boiled alive came to my mind almost immediately.
We are in a slow meltdown. The whole world is in a mess because no one dares to do anything about it. Take the frogs out of the water and you'll have to contend with the din and their running around. Remove the pot from the fire and you'll stop all activities. Remove the logs from the fire and you'll risk burning yourself.
There is no easy way out and no one wants to face the problem squarely. The aid rendered by various governments so far are just stop-gap measures. In the long run, even if the people don't die, they end up severely burnt and half dead.
I think the best thing to do is to let the market collapse straightaway. Then tell those who are not performing that they have to choose between the prescribed way and the highway. And then expend your remaining money to rebuild.
View this meltdown as a reset button for the economy. Or the snake that leads you back to square one. It is a bitter fruit from our well-cultivated and richly fertilized greed plant. We have no choice but to have to eat what we have grown. It is a bitter pill but since when have medicine tasted good?
We are dragging out the inevitable. We are hoping that we will have enough ice chips to keep the frogs alive to last till the flames go out. Unfortunately, like the Australian forest fires, there are more logs that are waiting to burn. A spark is all that is needed. And we are dangerously low on ice chips.
We the ordinary frogs should not be boiled alive because the people up there are making crap decisions.
Teanner on 21 Feb, 3 - 9 pm
Here is the confirmed menu. If you desire to eat tidbits/junk food such as chips or ???, feel free to bring small quantities. New year goodies wise, I think I still have some unopened packets to be eaten. The desired outcome is zero leftovers.
Menu
Homemade pasta with pesto sauce
Sausage buns (I've scored the chipolata sausages. Will get cheese slices, cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce on Fri. Everything is settled.)
Desserts
Tiramisu from Da Paolo (courtesy of OKE and Adeline)
Surprise cake (courtesy of Nana and Nigel)
Longan jelly (not the almond type but the Taiwanese version)
Drinks
Teh-C
Kopi-C
Assorted non-alcoholic drinks
Red wine
Menu
Homemade pasta with pesto sauce
Sausage buns (I've scored the chipolata sausages. Will get cheese slices, cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce on Fri. Everything is settled.)
Desserts
Tiramisu from Da Paolo (courtesy of OKE and Adeline)
Surprise cake (courtesy of Nana and Nigel)
Longan jelly (not the almond type but the Taiwanese version)
Drinks
Teh-C
Kopi-C
Assorted non-alcoholic drinks
Red wine
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Toes or Toast
Just went shopping with a friend for massage equipment for his school.
For the upcoming Valentine's, the equipment outlet sent out flyers entitling customers to a $50 discount if this flyer is presented.
We went to the shop and then asked if the discount could be extended to two pieces of massage equipment. After all, it is a matter of collecting another flyer. Furthermore, there is a minimum spending condition before the discount can be given. Both pieces of equipment are independently above the minimum cost that qualifies for the discount.
The salesgirl, whose eye lashes were painted like a pigeon just shit over the middle of each eye leaving a white streak, attended to us and we asked if we could have a discount on each piece of equipment. She checked with her supervisor and returned with the news that the discount is applicable.
Then when we asked to buy both pieces, she insisted that the discount is only applicable to one particular item. I pointed out to her that if the discount applies only to a specific item, then it would have stated "Only Applicable to Black Hearted Not Me Scared Scared Non amateur". (Trust me on the random capitalisation.) It would not have gone to state simply, "Minimum Spend (sic!) of $250."
After some exchange with her colleague, she relented that the discount can be given to any item. But now, she cannot allow the discount to be given to both items because her supervisor only allowed the double discount on two Black Hearted Not Me Scared Scared Non amateur non-hand muscle manipulator with negative enthalpy. Oh, come on. If you did not pay attention to our widespread hands pointing to two different items when we asked for the discount, then at least ask us what we want exactly. Don't assume we want two pieces of that equipment. Anyway, neither of us had a package that is protruding excessively between our legs that might attract any attention of anyone, unlike some porn stars. If at all, my paunch would be the attention grabber.
In any case, Miss Shitty Eyed Dumb Ass (or if you prefer the more endearing Miss Dumb Assed Shitty Eyes), it is not as though your Black Hearted products are flying off your shelves that you've hardly had enough to sell to customers like us. Your pathetic company had to offer this discount because its products are dragging ass when it comes to sales!
So, I simply said, "Fine! You are not the only store selling this. We certainly can get them from another shop." And she went, "My supervisor approves all these requests from all the outlets."
"Really? So what? Let's go." Why should I tolerate such nonsense? If I have the cash to buy things, I certainly won't tolerate such "excellent" customer service. For good measure, Watsons at Marina called me when an item I had wanted went on sale. She urged me to pick up my reserved items at the sale price. That is what I call good customer service.
Of course, the person who has to buy from the school has to be more tolerant. I simply walked out of the bloody stupid shop after verbally toasting her.
What's wrong with saying, "Oh, I made a mistake in thinking that you wanted two of Black Hearted Not Me Scared Scared Non amateur non-hand muscle manipulator with negative enthalpy. Let me call my supervisor again and check." I would have let that go. We all make mistakes. If you are interested in my business, you would definitely go out to check it out for me. Who the hell cares if your supervisor is so great? I don't mean to brag but if our consumer dollars all go to the non-Black Heart brands, your supervisor will be approving all your layoffs!
Moral of the story: If you are in sales, be on your toes or you're toast.
For the upcoming Valentine's, the equipment outlet sent out flyers entitling customers to a $50 discount if this flyer is presented.
We went to the shop and then asked if the discount could be extended to two pieces of massage equipment. After all, it is a matter of collecting another flyer. Furthermore, there is a minimum spending condition before the discount can be given. Both pieces of equipment are independently above the minimum cost that qualifies for the discount.
The salesgirl, whose eye lashes were painted like a pigeon just shit over the middle of each eye leaving a white streak, attended to us and we asked if we could have a discount on each piece of equipment. She checked with her supervisor and returned with the news that the discount is applicable.
Then when we asked to buy both pieces, she insisted that the discount is only applicable to one particular item. I pointed out to her that if the discount applies only to a specific item, then it would have stated "Only Applicable to Black Hearted Not Me Scared Scared Non amateur". (Trust me on the random capitalisation.) It would not have gone to state simply, "Minimum Spend (sic!) of $250."
After some exchange with her colleague, she relented that the discount can be given to any item. But now, she cannot allow the discount to be given to both items because her supervisor only allowed the double discount on two Black Hearted Not Me Scared Scared Non amateur non-hand muscle manipulator with negative enthalpy. Oh, come on. If you did not pay attention to our widespread hands pointing to two different items when we asked for the discount, then at least ask us what we want exactly. Don't assume we want two pieces of that equipment. Anyway, neither of us had a package that is protruding excessively between our legs that might attract any attention of anyone, unlike some porn stars. If at all, my paunch would be the attention grabber.
In any case, Miss Shitty Eyed Dumb Ass (or if you prefer the more endearing Miss Dumb Assed Shitty Eyes), it is not as though your Black Hearted products are flying off your shelves that you've hardly had enough to sell to customers like us. Your pathetic company had to offer this discount because its products are dragging ass when it comes to sales!
So, I simply said, "Fine! You are not the only store selling this. We certainly can get them from another shop." And she went, "My supervisor approves all these requests from all the outlets."
"Really? So what? Let's go." Why should I tolerate such nonsense? If I have the cash to buy things, I certainly won't tolerate such "excellent" customer service. For good measure, Watsons at Marina called me when an item I had wanted went on sale. She urged me to pick up my reserved items at the sale price. That is what I call good customer service.
Of course, the person who has to buy from the school has to be more tolerant. I simply walked out of the bloody stupid shop after verbally toasting her.
What's wrong with saying, "Oh, I made a mistake in thinking that you wanted two of Black Hearted Not Me Scared Scared Non amateur non-hand muscle manipulator with negative enthalpy. Let me call my supervisor again and check." I would have let that go. We all make mistakes. If you are interested in my business, you would definitely go out to check it out for me. Who the hell cares if your supervisor is so great? I don't mean to brag but if our consumer dollars all go to the non-Black Heart brands, your supervisor will be approving all your layoffs!
Moral of the story: If you are in sales, be on your toes or you're toast.
Capitalism and Capitalists
There is a rather big, but fortunately sedate, crossfire between a few bloggers whose blogs I read. It is fortunate too that the big pond separates them. I wonder if the two old fogies will end up trading blows if I ever put them together. I can't care two hoots really, so long as they don't rain the blows on me.
But interestingly, both of them are arguing across tangents. It's like trying to get two skew lines to meet. No doubt the cross one another at an angle, skew lines do not meet. Still it is inteersting.
The issue revolves around capitalism (a neutral concept revolving around money grabbing) and capitalists (a neutral term revolving around money grabbers). The problem is the money grabbers are giving the concept of money grabbing a bad name. At this point, we know that some governments are guided by the money grabbing concept but run by the people who draw their support from the money grabbers. This is what I think the US is mired in now.
In contrast, what we don't have a outright money grabber governments (maybe we can find one or two of these governments, perhaps in the African continent) run by money grabbers.
The problem now is no one knows which is which anymore. In any case, I'll cordially invite the Kiwi and the Texan to drop by and give their two cents if they care to. Hopefully, they can achieve some agreement in this neutral territory while we watch with bated breath how B. Hussein is going to deal with M. Ahmadinejad if the latter says he wants both the money and also to keep his nuclear bombs.
But interestingly, both of them are arguing across tangents. It's like trying to get two skew lines to meet. No doubt the cross one another at an angle, skew lines do not meet. Still it is inteersting.
The issue revolves around capitalism (a neutral concept revolving around money grabbing) and capitalists (a neutral term revolving around money grabbers). The problem is the money grabbers are giving the concept of money grabbing a bad name. At this point, we know that some governments are guided by the money grabbing concept but run by the people who draw their support from the money grabbers. This is what I think the US is mired in now.
In contrast, what we don't have a outright money grabber governments (maybe we can find one or two of these governments, perhaps in the African continent) run by money grabbers.
The problem now is no one knows which is which anymore. In any case, I'll cordially invite the Kiwi and the Texan to drop by and give their two cents if they care to. Hopefully, they can achieve some agreement in this neutral territory while we watch with bated breath how B. Hussein is going to deal with M. Ahmadinejad if the latter says he wants both the money and also to keep his nuclear bombs.
Why do you call that murder?
I teach in a Methodist school where we have a chapel as part of the school premises. We have full-time a pastor here too.
Just last week, some thing helped itself to a whiteboard marker on my table. The markers are dispensed on a one-for-one basis by the school and teachers need to use them to write in the class.
So, I believe some thing stole from me in the house of god.
As I gave the incident more thought, I came to this interesting rationalization. If you take something from another without permission, it is stealing.
If that something is a life, it is stealing too. Why do we charge them for murder and then convict them and pass a death sentence? It is only stealing.
Oh, so it's not stealing? Then why are stealing punishments so light?
Just last week, some thing helped itself to a whiteboard marker on my table. The markers are dispensed on a one-for-one basis by the school and teachers need to use them to write in the class.
So, I believe some thing stole from me in the house of god.
As I gave the incident more thought, I came to this interesting rationalization. If you take something from another without permission, it is stealing.
If that something is a life, it is stealing too. Why do we charge them for murder and then convict them and pass a death sentence? It is only stealing.
Oh, so it's not stealing? Then why are stealing punishments so light?
It's a crime when you can't write
Before you start protesting and hurling abuses at me, please have the basic courtesy to read the following paragraphs. After that, you can decide if you still want to hurl anything at me.
Writing serves many purposes and communication seems to be the most important reason why people write. Regardless of your job, it is important that you are able to write well enough to convey the idea that you wish to convey. If your work requires you to write extensively because the written word is the primary means you use for communication, then it is even more imperative that you write accurately, objectively, fairly, and succinctly.
While most people aspire towards these hallmarks of effective writing, there are people out there who resist learning. I've read pieces from civil servants that are so wordy and bombastic, they put the Marriam-Webster dictionary to shame. I've also read pieces from student writers that are so poorly written, I simply become convulsed with laughter. While the latter group still has time to can brush up on their writing skills, the former writers out there had better get their act together before they make mockeries of themselves.
Writing is becoming a dying skill. Good writers are a dying breed. I am not implying that I write well. I try to be clear but I am human after all. But at least I do not end up writing entire patches of work which you summarize with the infamous "What the ... is he writing about?" or "Huh? Run that by me again?"
We have to write with some consciousness. What does one mean by "He argues that terminally ill patients should be allowed to die after they have displayed their human capacity [sic] to stay alive?" Or "Mercy killing in some cases could have been a result of quality care and compassion for the paitents?" How about "Consider a terrorist who has been caught after bombing a lot of innocent lives...?" One more, "Although death may seem too harsh an option here to society, there are many other beneficial side-effects [sic] to it that we fail to realise. Of course, this has to come around, "Human beings are one of the few species or perhaps, the only specie that is capable of facing the test of death and discovering the significance of life in it."
I should find the quote about the doctors expecting a 99-year-old woman with a hip fracture to operate on another patient.
Can you imagine how writers like these are going to survive in the world out there? I have absolutely no idea but I do know what if anyone writes this way, their bosses are probably not going to be too pleased. Even if their bosses can't write as well, they are in their position by virtue of the fact that they have mastered, if not are reasonably proficient in, reading skills. That is another dying skill and a different blog entry.
Now if you really need to hurl anything, shoes are fine. Nikes US11.5W any model. If you prefer to throw something larger, Wesco Big Boss Boots US11.5EE are acceptable. Cash preferred though.
Writing serves many purposes and communication seems to be the most important reason why people write. Regardless of your job, it is important that you are able to write well enough to convey the idea that you wish to convey. If your work requires you to write extensively because the written word is the primary means you use for communication, then it is even more imperative that you write accurately, objectively, fairly, and succinctly.
While most people aspire towards these hallmarks of effective writing, there are people out there who resist learning. I've read pieces from civil servants that are so wordy and bombastic, they put the Marriam-Webster dictionary to shame. I've also read pieces from student writers that are so poorly written, I simply become convulsed with laughter. While the latter group still has time to can brush up on their writing skills, the former writers out there had better get their act together before they make mockeries of themselves.
Writing is becoming a dying skill. Good writers are a dying breed. I am not implying that I write well. I try to be clear but I am human after all. But at least I do not end up writing entire patches of work which you summarize with the infamous "What the ... is he writing about?" or "Huh? Run that by me again?"
We have to write with some consciousness. What does one mean by "He argues that terminally ill patients should be allowed to die after they have displayed their human capacity [sic] to stay alive?" Or "Mercy killing in some cases could have been a result of quality care and compassion for the paitents?" How about "Consider a terrorist who has been caught after bombing a lot of innocent lives...?" One more, "Although death may seem too harsh an option here to society, there are many other beneficial side-effects [sic] to it that we fail to realise. Of course, this has to come around, "Human beings are one of the few species or perhaps, the only specie that is capable of facing the test of death and discovering the significance of life in it."
I should find the quote about the doctors expecting a 99-year-old woman with a hip fracture to operate on another patient.
Can you imagine how writers like these are going to survive in the world out there? I have absolutely no idea but I do know what if anyone writes this way, their bosses are probably not going to be too pleased. Even if their bosses can't write as well, they are in their position by virtue of the fact that they have mastered, if not are reasonably proficient in, reading skills. That is another dying skill and a different blog entry.
Now if you really need to hurl anything, shoes are fine. Nikes US11.5W any model. If you prefer to throw something larger, Wesco Big Boss Boots US11.5EE are acceptable. Cash preferred though.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Please See Me
It's the time of the term when the graded assignments make their way back to their owners. It's also the time of the term where student writers get rewarded for good writing or suffer for poorly written work.
I often write "Pls see me" on scripts when I think the writer needs personal attention. My experience tells me that a quick session of 15 minutes with the student achieves more than what a 20 page commentary and analysis on what has gone awry on the paper.
Post-mortem consultation is beginning soon. And there will be some work to be done. And fast.
I often write "Pls see me" on scripts when I think the writer needs personal attention. My experience tells me that a quick session of 15 minutes with the student achieves more than what a 20 page commentary and analysis on what has gone awry on the paper.
Post-mortem consultation is beginning soon. And there will be some work to be done. And fast.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Inauspicious Homonyms
We often say auspicious words to friends and family members when we go visiting during the Chinese New Year. But the financial tsunami has led to a perversion of some terms because of homonymity. Some are really hilarious. Here's some for your reading pleasure.
财源滚滚(裁员滚滚) [cai2 yuan2 gun3 gun3]
Overflowing with riches. (Meaning of homonym: Fervent retrenchments)
招财进宝(遭裁禁饱) [zhao1 cai2 jing4 bao3]
Attracting riches and pocketing treasures (Got retrenched; can't eat till I'm full [not enough food])
万事如意(万市如忆) [wan4 shi4 ru2 yi4]
Everything will be as you wish (All [booming financial] markets are only in your memory)
心想事成(薪饷四成) [xin1 xiang3 shi4 cheng2]
Your heart's wishes (Pay is cut to 40%)
鸿图大展(红屠大斩) [hong2 tu2 da4 zhan3]
Opportunities to flaunt your ambition (A bloody massacre)
财源广进(裁员广尽) [cai2 yuan2 guang3 jing4]
Getting vast riches and treasures (Retrench to the last person)
Now do you know why many Chinese have banned these terms for this Lunar New Year?
财源滚滚(裁员滚滚) [cai2 yuan2 gun3 gun3]
Overflowing with riches. (Meaning of homonym: Fervent retrenchments)
招财进宝(遭裁禁饱) [zhao1 cai2 jing4 bao3]
Attracting riches and pocketing treasures (Got retrenched; can't eat till I'm full [not enough food])
万事如意(万市如忆) [wan4 shi4 ru2 yi4]
Everything will be as you wish (All [booming financial] markets are only in your memory)
心想事成(薪饷四成) [xin1 xiang3 shi4 cheng2]
Your heart's wishes (Pay is cut to 40%)
鸿图大展(红屠大斩) [hong2 tu2 da4 zhan3]
Opportunities to flaunt your ambition (A bloody massacre)
财源广进(裁员广尽) [cai2 yuan2 guang3 jing4]
Getting vast riches and treasures (Retrench to the last person)
Now do you know why many Chinese have banned these terms for this Lunar New Year?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Chinese New Year Wet Blanket
There is no such thing as a celebration without good food. Good food, by commonsense definition, is food that is neither good for your heart (or for that matter, all your organs, except for taste) nor waistline. So here is what the newspaper supplement has to tell us about the goodies that we stuff our faces with during Chinese New Year. Of course, I'll tell you what I think!
Fried battered nian gao (55 g) - 224 Cal, 5.4 g fat.
Nian gao, the gooey, glutinous mass of sugared flour cake, is a must have for Chinese New Year. It signifies "progress with every step". If you love to eat it, go ahead and eat it. Otherwise, do what I do - I buy it, display it, mould it and dump it.
Roast duck 3 (paper thin) slices (60 g) - 143 Cal, 10 g fat.
I think this is a conspiracy. All other times, I bet you the whole roast duck is 143 Cal! Unfortunately, roast duck is a perennial favourite year round and if your waistline doesn't seem to be shrinking despite your trillion crunches a day, perhaps it is time to reconsider to duck the duck.
Braised dried oysters with mixed vegetables and fatt choy (60 g) - 50 Cal, 4 g fat.
Dietiticians of the world ought to be shot! And then shot and shot and shot and shot... you get the message. Can you imagine how small a 60 g portion of this delicacy is? I cannot imagine that this is... ok, 50 Cal. It's not as bad a 3 paper thin slices of roast duck. But still!
Tossed fish salad (100 g) - 145 Cal, 11 g fat.
The tossed fish salad represents brisk business and many people go through at least a good handful of meals featuring this Cantonese favourite. One way of reducing the fat and calorie content is to avoid adding all the oil into the salad. Ask for half or a third of the bowl of oil to be added. Each gram of fat less could help reduce the calorie count a little. Trust me, it ain't that bad with less oil.
Chicken curry with coconut milk (220 g) - 342 Cal, 28 g fat.
I have yet to figure why anyone would eat chicken curry (a dish typically served to visitors at wakes) during Chinese New Year. It is as though the "heat" and the overly rich foods aren't enough to overload your poor stomach that you need to add to its burden by drinking copious coconut milk! I mean, aren't we happier eating pineapple tarts, bak kwa, kueh lapis, love letters and other artery clogging items?
Pineapple tarts (20 g) - 82 Cal, 4 g fat.
Kueh lapis (50 g) - 247 Cal, 19 g fat.
Bak kwa aka jerky 3 coin pieces (45 g) - 180 Cal, 6 g fat.
Love letters 3 pieces (40 g) - 172 Cal, 5 g fat.
One cannot help but need to place these four items together because almost each household one visits during the Chinese New Year will bombard guests with versions of these. It is hard to accept that a pop a mouthful goodies can be so chockful of calories. 82 calories for a pineapple tart! My goodness you tart! What hedonistic abandon! A slice of two bite kueh lapis makes you go for another and before you know it, you probably have eaten three slices. That's about the calorific equivalent of a place of wanton noodles! The other culprit for the grow in your hips moment is bak kwa aka jerky. Trust me - there is absolutely no f**king way to stop at 45 g. I confess I could polish off five times of that without breaking into a sweat! Melt in your mouth love letters are another of your worst enemies. Many friends can easily clean out half a tin - that's a whopping 30 pieces! Now, with these wonderful food friends, who needs enemies?
Other food items to add more dampener to your already dripping wet blanket:
Peanuts (20 g, about 15 or a handful) - 120 Cal, 10 g fat.
Melon seeds (8 g, about 1 tbs) - 30 Cal, 3 g fat.
Mandarin orange (116 g, 1 whole) - 51 Cal, 0.3 g fat.
Kueh bangkit (18 g or 3 pieces) - 69 Cal, 2 g fat.
Sharksfin with crabmeat (295 g, half a bowl or better known as two mouthfuls) - 162 Cal, 7 g fat.
I wonder why our bodies NEVER adapt to the better world we are in and learn to burn more energy with less activity. I am sure there must be a genetic flaw.
Meanwhile, Happy Chinese New Year. I hear the new wardrobe calling.
Fried battered nian gao (55 g) - 224 Cal, 5.4 g fat.
Nian gao, the gooey, glutinous mass of sugared flour cake, is a must have for Chinese New Year. It signifies "progress with every step". If you love to eat it, go ahead and eat it. Otherwise, do what I do - I buy it, display it, mould it and dump it.
Roast duck 3 (paper thin) slices (60 g) - 143 Cal, 10 g fat.
I think this is a conspiracy. All other times, I bet you the whole roast duck is 143 Cal! Unfortunately, roast duck is a perennial favourite year round and if your waistline doesn't seem to be shrinking despite your trillion crunches a day, perhaps it is time to reconsider to duck the duck.
Braised dried oysters with mixed vegetables and fatt choy (60 g) - 50 Cal, 4 g fat.
Dietiticians of the world ought to be shot! And then shot and shot and shot and shot... you get the message. Can you imagine how small a 60 g portion of this delicacy is? I cannot imagine that this is... ok, 50 Cal. It's not as bad a 3 paper thin slices of roast duck. But still!
Tossed fish salad (100 g) - 145 Cal, 11 g fat.
The tossed fish salad represents brisk business and many people go through at least a good handful of meals featuring this Cantonese favourite. One way of reducing the fat and calorie content is to avoid adding all the oil into the salad. Ask for half or a third of the bowl of oil to be added. Each gram of fat less could help reduce the calorie count a little. Trust me, it ain't that bad with less oil.
Chicken curry with coconut milk (220 g) - 342 Cal, 28 g fat.
I have yet to figure why anyone would eat chicken curry (a dish typically served to visitors at wakes) during Chinese New Year. It is as though the "heat" and the overly rich foods aren't enough to overload your poor stomach that you need to add to its burden by drinking copious coconut milk! I mean, aren't we happier eating pineapple tarts, bak kwa, kueh lapis, love letters and other artery clogging items?
Pineapple tarts (20 g) - 82 Cal, 4 g fat.
Kueh lapis (50 g) - 247 Cal, 19 g fat.
Bak kwa aka jerky 3 coin pieces (45 g) - 180 Cal, 6 g fat.
Love letters 3 pieces (40 g) - 172 Cal, 5 g fat.
One cannot help but need to place these four items together because almost each household one visits during the Chinese New Year will bombard guests with versions of these. It is hard to accept that a pop a mouthful goodies can be so chockful of calories. 82 calories for a pineapple tart! My goodness you tart! What hedonistic abandon! A slice of two bite kueh lapis makes you go for another and before you know it, you probably have eaten three slices. That's about the calorific equivalent of a place of wanton noodles! The other culprit for the grow in your hips moment is bak kwa aka jerky. Trust me - there is absolutely no f**king way to stop at 45 g. I confess I could polish off five times of that without breaking into a sweat! Melt in your mouth love letters are another of your worst enemies. Many friends can easily clean out half a tin - that's a whopping 30 pieces! Now, with these wonderful food friends, who needs enemies?
Other food items to add more dampener to your already dripping wet blanket:
Peanuts (20 g, about 15 or a handful) - 120 Cal, 10 g fat.
Melon seeds (8 g, about 1 tbs) - 30 Cal, 3 g fat.
Mandarin orange (116 g, 1 whole) - 51 Cal, 0.3 g fat.
Kueh bangkit (18 g or 3 pieces) - 69 Cal, 2 g fat.
Sharksfin with crabmeat (295 g, half a bowl or better known as two mouthfuls) - 162 Cal, 7 g fat.
I wonder why our bodies NEVER adapt to the better world we are in and learn to burn more energy with less activity. I am sure there must be a genetic flaw.
Meanwhile, Happy Chinese New Year. I hear the new wardrobe calling.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
What Grandma Probably Taught...
I'm sure there were many lessons which my maternal grandma taught me when she looked after me when I was younger.
Many of these lessons were probably never written down or verbalisable in words or speech but I'm sure I've learnt something from her.
I am good at marketing. This is what I learnt from her. One lesson then was to see what other grandmas would be picking at the market and go for similar produce. Grandmas of yore were savvy at marketing and following them and grabbing items similar to what they pick from the common pile often guaranteed results. That can't be said for now, since I've outgrown the modern day grandma in terms of marketing abilities.
I am good at food. I probably can tell you what's wrong with each dish I am served but courtesy dictates I bite my tongue and swallow the food. Still, the palatte, once refined, can never be dulled.
I also believe a big indirect lesson that I learnt. If there is an advantage to be taken of, make sure the gains and returns are immediate. Take and run. Never invest in what will be. Instead, take what is, be satisfied and scout for new bargains.
Modern grandparents and younger folks without shrewd, savvy grandmas to teach them life lessons should learn something from this entry that I share (which is something my grandma also said to do).
Many of these lessons were probably never written down or verbalisable in words or speech but I'm sure I've learnt something from her.
I am good at marketing. This is what I learnt from her. One lesson then was to see what other grandmas would be picking at the market and go for similar produce. Grandmas of yore were savvy at marketing and following them and grabbing items similar to what they pick from the common pile often guaranteed results. That can't be said for now, since I've outgrown the modern day grandma in terms of marketing abilities.
I am good at food. I probably can tell you what's wrong with each dish I am served but courtesy dictates I bite my tongue and swallow the food. Still, the palatte, once refined, can never be dulled.
I also believe a big indirect lesson that I learnt. If there is an advantage to be taken of, make sure the gains and returns are immediate. Take and run. Never invest in what will be. Instead, take what is, be satisfied and scout for new bargains.
Modern grandparents and younger folks without shrewd, savvy grandmas to teach them life lessons should learn something from this entry that I share (which is something my grandma also said to do).
Thursday, January 22, 2009
General Election 2009?
I seem to see signs pointing to a General Election in 2009.
We have got MPs who are dead or gravely injured. But this is not the main purpose to call elections.
The government will need a mandate to push forward their fiscal policies to steer Singapore through its worst and likely most protracted recession since Independence. This means Singaporeans should be led by a team of ministars, I mean ministers, who have the people's mandate to push forward the recovery package.
Let's see if my predictions are correct this time. When? Some time mid September.
We have got MPs who are dead or gravely injured. But this is not the main purpose to call elections.
The government will need a mandate to push forward their fiscal policies to steer Singapore through its worst and likely most protracted recession since Independence. This means Singaporeans should be led by a team of ministars, I mean ministers, who have the people's mandate to push forward the recovery package.
Let's see if my predictions are correct this time. When? Some time mid September.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Overheard - WARNING: RISQUE CONTENT!
There was this loudmouthed guy on the bus today complaining about his encounter with another guy who is straight but would pretend to be bisexual to make money off gays.
And then he went on to complain at the top of his voice why he wasn't happy being thought of as someone who would betray himself just to earn money. His example was quite hilarious.
You give a chao Ah Beng $500 and ask him to go f**k ass. If he is low class and he is straight, he will f**k the gay's ass because $500 is a lot of money. If he is high class, he will tell you to keep the money and play with yourself.
So is he trying to compare himself with a poorly educated lout?
Then he bitched big time repeatedly about how he did not like being thought of as someone (who would do it with another guy) for them money.
Not only was the talk overly lewd for the passengers, the way he spoke made many of us want to turn back to look at the speaker.
I managed to take a glimpse of him as I alighted. OMG! If I were a straight woman in need of some gratification, I'd most likely need to be knocked out first before I would end up with a male pros like him. I think if anyone would think he was saleable (to men or women, regardless), it's already flattering him. Who'd want to be caught dead with something like him?
And then he went on to complain at the top of his voice why he wasn't happy being thought of as someone who would betray himself just to earn money. His example was quite hilarious.
You give a chao Ah Beng $500 and ask him to go f**k ass. If he is low class and he is straight, he will f**k the gay's ass because $500 is a lot of money. If he is high class, he will tell you to keep the money and play with yourself.
So is he trying to compare himself with a poorly educated lout?
Then he bitched big time repeatedly about how he did not like being thought of as someone (who would do it with another guy) for them money.
Not only was the talk overly lewd for the passengers, the way he spoke made many of us want to turn back to look at the speaker.
I managed to take a glimpse of him as I alighted. OMG! If I were a straight woman in need of some gratification, I'd most likely need to be knocked out first before I would end up with a male pros like him. I think if anyone would think he was saleable (to men or women, regardless), it's already flattering him. Who'd want to be caught dead with something like him?
So WRONG!
Singapore - More than half the investors who lodged complaints over the way they were sold investment products linked to Lehman Brothers will get some money back.
And about a quarter will be fully compensated, ending months of worry that started when their investments went belly-up together with the collapsed US investment bank.
This is so wrong. Greed should not be guaranteed. Instead, these investors should be given a goodwill payout NOT AMOUNTING to an admission of guilt.
There is a huge difference between an outright compensation and a goodwill payout. The premise of the former suggests that there are some greed that are more acceptable than other greed. There are some gullibility that are less heinous than other guillibility. It also assumes that when you are old, you need not be responsible for your actions.
In the latter, you acknowledge that all are placed on an equal slate and then judged and sentenced equally. But out of goodwill, a certain more vulnerable group is given a little assistance to alleviate their sufferings from their mistakes. This, itself, is already a less than ideal situation but to give an almost outright compensation to the "old and guillible" is really BS.
Surely, these OAGs, being salt of the earth compared to the young and rapacious, should know better the downfalls of the greedy, especially over an additional 1% interest per annum.
I feel sorry for those who did not get any money back in this circumstance, though my definition of the ideal case is for all investors to suffer comparable (percentage) losses.
And about a quarter will be fully compensated, ending months of worry that started when their investments went belly-up together with the collapsed US investment bank.
This is so wrong. Greed should not be guaranteed. Instead, these investors should be given a goodwill payout NOT AMOUNTING to an admission of guilt.
There is a huge difference between an outright compensation and a goodwill payout. The premise of the former suggests that there are some greed that are more acceptable than other greed. There are some gullibility that are less heinous than other guillibility. It also assumes that when you are old, you need not be responsible for your actions.
In the latter, you acknowledge that all are placed on an equal slate and then judged and sentenced equally. But out of goodwill, a certain more vulnerable group is given a little assistance to alleviate their sufferings from their mistakes. This, itself, is already a less than ideal situation but to give an almost outright compensation to the "old and guillible" is really BS.
Surely, these OAGs, being salt of the earth compared to the young and rapacious, should know better the downfalls of the greedy, especially over an additional 1% interest per annum.
I feel sorry for those who did not get any money back in this circumstance, though my definition of the ideal case is for all investors to suffer comparable (percentage) losses.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Professional Conduct and Courtesy
I had to give a short lecture to each class I teach on the above topics recently.
Is it so difficult to come to class prepared? All I ask are for readings to be done. How do I have a meaningful discussion if the readings are not done?
Is it so difficult to hand in your work on time? What do you mean by "the printers in the University are all faulty? I gave you more than 4 days to work on your paper. Jolly well have the paper printed first thing on Monday. There should be no reason why the paper cannot be handed in on Tuesday!
Is it so difficult to ask for an extension? I may not necessarily grant you one but a request is a sign of interest in the work. If you are not interested, the heck I am!
Is it so difficult to sign up for a timeslot to meet me for YOUR writing conference timing? It is YOUR writing conference, not mine. If you don't see me, you could end up getting a crap grade. The signing up sheet has been outside my door since Tuesday and 11.40 pm last night, YOU ask me if I have time on Monday to meet you? What do YOU think?
Is it so difficult for you to take note of the administrative details related to your assignment? Do you see "Personal Assistant to ..." or "Secretary to ..." following my name?
The lack of professional conduct and courtesy, unfortunately, extends far beyond the classroom. But that would be another blog entry, wouldn't it?
Is it so difficult to come to class prepared? All I ask are for readings to be done. How do I have a meaningful discussion if the readings are not done?
Is it so difficult to hand in your work on time? What do you mean by "the printers in the University are all faulty? I gave you more than 4 days to work on your paper. Jolly well have the paper printed first thing on Monday. There should be no reason why the paper cannot be handed in on Tuesday!
Is it so difficult to ask for an extension? I may not necessarily grant you one but a request is a sign of interest in the work. If you are not interested, the heck I am!
Is it so difficult to sign up for a timeslot to meet me for YOUR writing conference timing? It is YOUR writing conference, not mine. If you don't see me, you could end up getting a crap grade. The signing up sheet has been outside my door since Tuesday and 11.40 pm last night, YOU ask me if I have time on Monday to meet you? What do YOU think?
Is it so difficult for you to take note of the administrative details related to your assignment? Do you see "Personal Assistant to ..." or "Secretary to ..." following my name?
The lack of professional conduct and courtesy, unfortunately, extends far beyond the classroom. But that would be another blog entry, wouldn't it?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Floored unknowingly
I woke up with a rather bad bout diarrhoea this morning. Surprisingly, it did not hit me until I woke up for work. By the time I left for home, I had four runs.
I went to work despite the malady, having to make one more detour along the way. During the class, I had to will myself not to have to make another run.
Meanwhile, during the course of the morning, I started shivering and the body started aching. By noon, I was shivering so bad and feeling so cold that my hands were beginning to have pins and needles sensations. Blood flow to the extremities was now reduced because the body needed to preserve core functionalities. Blood is thus kept to the critical organs.
My head was already throbbing by then and all my major joints were flaring up with pain. Big time! When I left the university to take a cab to the doctor, I was shivering in the noon sun. To think I'd pull on a thin cotton shirt in 10 deg C New York and yet be chattering my teeth off in the 30 deg C heat of equatorial Singapore.
The journey to the doctor was ok enough; the cab driver and I chatted some and that took some of the discomfort off my mind. And when I arrived, that was when hell literally froze over. I was thankful to get the final seat outside the clinic but I was shivering. I could tell my mouth was getting parched and the head was spinning and throbbing in pain at the same time. The body could not tolerate being in any position at all because the joints were all screaming out in sharp pain. The skin was all tender and even the wind makes the body hurt.
And then the guy beside me asked me, "How do you spell 'cough'?" Simple enough question. I was tempted to say, "Cof," - imagine in my miserable state, I still had my sense of humour - but I thought this was my ticket to a return favour. After a while, I asked Mr Cough to look after my seat and belongings while I took a quick visit to the 7-Eleven next to the clinic to get some water. I was drying up and I knew it.
7-Eleven charged exorbitantly for the distilled water they put on sale. Oh, what the f***. So what if it is $1.80 for two 500-ml bottles when it should be no more than $1? Get it first and regret later. Lugging the two bottles out - trust me, in that pain, a litre of water ain't light load - I started sipping on a bottle. I guess it made good sense then because I was feeling a little nauseous and I didn't think I'd enjoy puking water all over my because I drank too quickly.
Finally, after waiting a good 50 minutes, the clinic opened. By then, I must have gone to hell and returned a few times. The registration was fast enough and I was third in the numbered queue and sixth overall (3 appointment cases, who did not need queue numbers). I waited for another good one hour to see the doctor. There was a baby on check-up, who was first in the numbered queue and this brat was screaming on and off at the top of its lungs. I wish I could go up and kiss it, so it knows what it means to be sick and miserable. And the parent was such an idiot. I believe that while the baby was being examined, the grandmother joined in to see the doctor, making the "first" consultation stretch into almost 25 minutes. Why are babies so troublesome?
Mr Cough was pretty fast. When he was out, I was feeling so weak it took me some effort to pick up my heavy bag and file to get into the consultation room.
After I described my symptoms to the doc, he started checking me. My fever was 38.8 deg C. My stomach was full of flatulence. My body ache and headache and the whole pain works were due the fever. And then he felt my arm and said, "Odd. You're burning up and yet you feel so cool all around." He then took my temperature from the right ear (the first was from the left) and it registered 38.7 deg C. So he was convinced that my fever was really bad. And I'm convinced I'm one cool guy, even if I have fever.
Doc then said to avoid coffee, tea, milk, oily stuff and just eat whatever I have a fancy in. If I don't feel like eating at all, it was also fine; he recommended isotonic drinks if I wanted to have them. And the diagosis? I got a particularly virulent strain of the gastro-entritis virus and it was through close contact with someone with that virus. The fever was a result of the viral infection. At that moment, I thought I should go on a witch-hunt.
I came home at around 4 pm, cleaned my hotspots with a cold towel and went to bed. I never slept so well in my life, I bet. I know I was in a really bad shape because I would never have gone to bed without showering first, but the condition I was in made showering literally impossible. How does one shower when in such pain, such cold and such unsteadiness?
Few hours of deep sleep and a few trips to the loo (to pee) later, housemate returned and asked if I would be interested in some soup. Soup? I think I could but I don't know if it's going to agree with the stomach. I finally got out of bed at around 7.40 pm for two bowls of water-cress soup. It was a little too rich for the weakened system, I guess. I just expelled it half an hour ago. It must be the soup because it was rather rich - meat stock - and I hadn't eaten since noon.
After the soup, I slept for another two hours, got up and medicated. Then I decided a shower was in order. After ablution, the sweat began. I was sweating non-stop. The fever broke. I took the opportunity to do up the laundry as I waited for the sweating to abate. And to keep myself entertained, I blogged.
My shirt is rather soaked at this moment. I'm going to change and then go back to sleep. I'm not going to work tomorrow.
I went to work despite the malady, having to make one more detour along the way. During the class, I had to will myself not to have to make another run.
Meanwhile, during the course of the morning, I started shivering and the body started aching. By noon, I was shivering so bad and feeling so cold that my hands were beginning to have pins and needles sensations. Blood flow to the extremities was now reduced because the body needed to preserve core functionalities. Blood is thus kept to the critical organs.
My head was already throbbing by then and all my major joints were flaring up with pain. Big time! When I left the university to take a cab to the doctor, I was shivering in the noon sun. To think I'd pull on a thin cotton shirt in 10 deg C New York and yet be chattering my teeth off in the 30 deg C heat of equatorial Singapore.
The journey to the doctor was ok enough; the cab driver and I chatted some and that took some of the discomfort off my mind. And when I arrived, that was when hell literally froze over. I was thankful to get the final seat outside the clinic but I was shivering. I could tell my mouth was getting parched and the head was spinning and throbbing in pain at the same time. The body could not tolerate being in any position at all because the joints were all screaming out in sharp pain. The skin was all tender and even the wind makes the body hurt.
And then the guy beside me asked me, "How do you spell 'cough'?" Simple enough question. I was tempted to say, "Cof," - imagine in my miserable state, I still had my sense of humour - but I thought this was my ticket to a return favour. After a while, I asked Mr Cough to look after my seat and belongings while I took a quick visit to the 7-Eleven next to the clinic to get some water. I was drying up and I knew it.
7-Eleven charged exorbitantly for the distilled water they put on sale. Oh, what the f***. So what if it is $1.80 for two 500-ml bottles when it should be no more than $1? Get it first and regret later. Lugging the two bottles out - trust me, in that pain, a litre of water ain't light load - I started sipping on a bottle. I guess it made good sense then because I was feeling a little nauseous and I didn't think I'd enjoy puking water all over my because I drank too quickly.
Finally, after waiting a good 50 minutes, the clinic opened. By then, I must have gone to hell and returned a few times. The registration was fast enough and I was third in the numbered queue and sixth overall (3 appointment cases, who did not need queue numbers). I waited for another good one hour to see the doctor. There was a baby on check-up, who was first in the numbered queue and this brat was screaming on and off at the top of its lungs. I wish I could go up and kiss it, so it knows what it means to be sick and miserable. And the parent was such an idiot. I believe that while the baby was being examined, the grandmother joined in to see the doctor, making the "first" consultation stretch into almost 25 minutes. Why are babies so troublesome?
Mr Cough was pretty fast. When he was out, I was feeling so weak it took me some effort to pick up my heavy bag and file to get into the consultation room.
After I described my symptoms to the doc, he started checking me. My fever was 38.8 deg C. My stomach was full of flatulence. My body ache and headache and the whole pain works were due the fever. And then he felt my arm and said, "Odd. You're burning up and yet you feel so cool all around." He then took my temperature from the right ear (the first was from the left) and it registered 38.7 deg C. So he was convinced that my fever was really bad. And I'm convinced I'm one cool guy, even if I have fever.
Doc then said to avoid coffee, tea, milk, oily stuff and just eat whatever I have a fancy in. If I don't feel like eating at all, it was also fine; he recommended isotonic drinks if I wanted to have them. And the diagosis? I got a particularly virulent strain of the gastro-entritis virus and it was through close contact with someone with that virus. The fever was a result of the viral infection. At that moment, I thought I should go on a witch-hunt.
I came home at around 4 pm, cleaned my hotspots with a cold towel and went to bed. I never slept so well in my life, I bet. I know I was in a really bad shape because I would never have gone to bed without showering first, but the condition I was in made showering literally impossible. How does one shower when in such pain, such cold and such unsteadiness?
Few hours of deep sleep and a few trips to the loo (to pee) later, housemate returned and asked if I would be interested in some soup. Soup? I think I could but I don't know if it's going to agree with the stomach. I finally got out of bed at around 7.40 pm for two bowls of water-cress soup. It was a little too rich for the weakened system, I guess. I just expelled it half an hour ago. It must be the soup because it was rather rich - meat stock - and I hadn't eaten since noon.
After the soup, I slept for another two hours, got up and medicated. Then I decided a shower was in order. After ablution, the sweat began. I was sweating non-stop. The fever broke. I took the opportunity to do up the laundry as I waited for the sweating to abate. And to keep myself entertained, I blogged.
My shirt is rather soaked at this moment. I'm going to change and then go back to sleep. I'm not going to work tomorrow.
Monday, January 12, 2009
By who's standards?
The GCE O Level results are released today and the candidates that I presented for the math papers returned to collect the fruits of their labour.
The results were not astounding - of the 5 distinction (A2) grades garnered by the entire cohort of 60, my group of 23 picked up one. The rest went to the top class. While my group scored well for percentage passes, the students did not measure up in terms of percentage distinctions, not at least when compared against the national average. But the students were nonetheless elated with their results.
I should say I was rather disappointed when the students were so happy with their results. There was a kind of sadness in my happiness. I'm happy for them because when I had them, they were consistently failing all their tests and exams. I'm sad because I wonder how I will ever come to terms with their "satisfaction" criteria.
I guess this is a continuing journey of reviewing the standards that I used to know. These students, who had been consistently failing, had received reasonably respectable passing grades. On fact, a number of them have had good passing grades. These grades, to them, are like nectar to a parched man. They represented the sweet taste of victory.
To me, however, these were at best mediocre grades. But who am I to say so when even the principal congratulated the group for their "better than national average" showing.
It did not take me long to realise the irony of celebrating small victories. These are the roots of mediocrity. To partake in these celebrations is to magnify the trivial achievements and make them seem monumental. If mankind thrived this way, we would never be able to send anyone to the moon. Our neighbours up north would never be inspired to send a spaceship to the sun. Never mind it'll be too hot because they will fire off in the night.
Even as I remind myself, "Even the dull, they have their story," I cannot help but wonder if we are giving the dull a voice but never teaching them to grow any smarter. So, if not to make the dull sharper, what is the point of listening?
I am not for using my standards to measure my students' achivements. But if we were to benchmark the school's results according to national averages, then isn't it more sensible to remind the school and the students that there is no big deal being around or slightly better than the national average? To be truly good, one has to transcend this mindset and surpass national standards significantly.
But who is willing to put in the hard work? Who is willing to accept another's standards? Who are we bluffing when we shortchange the people to whom we are going to entrust ourselves in our silver years? I guess we reap what we sow. But I am not willing to accept this - in my books, they had failed to meet the standards which define excellence even if they had outdone themselves.
The results were not astounding - of the 5 distinction (A2) grades garnered by the entire cohort of 60, my group of 23 picked up one. The rest went to the top class. While my group scored well for percentage passes, the students did not measure up in terms of percentage distinctions, not at least when compared against the national average. But the students were nonetheless elated with their results.
I should say I was rather disappointed when the students were so happy with their results. There was a kind of sadness in my happiness. I'm happy for them because when I had them, they were consistently failing all their tests and exams. I'm sad because I wonder how I will ever come to terms with their "satisfaction" criteria.
I guess this is a continuing journey of reviewing the standards that I used to know. These students, who had been consistently failing, had received reasonably respectable passing grades. On fact, a number of them have had good passing grades. These grades, to them, are like nectar to a parched man. They represented the sweet taste of victory.
To me, however, these were at best mediocre grades. But who am I to say so when even the principal congratulated the group for their "better than national average" showing.
It did not take me long to realise the irony of celebrating small victories. These are the roots of mediocrity. To partake in these celebrations is to magnify the trivial achievements and make them seem monumental. If mankind thrived this way, we would never be able to send anyone to the moon. Our neighbours up north would never be inspired to send a spaceship to the sun. Never mind it'll be too hot because they will fire off in the night.
Even as I remind myself, "Even the dull, they have their story," I cannot help but wonder if we are giving the dull a voice but never teaching them to grow any smarter. So, if not to make the dull sharper, what is the point of listening?
I am not for using my standards to measure my students' achivements. But if we were to benchmark the school's results according to national averages, then isn't it more sensible to remind the school and the students that there is no big deal being around or slightly better than the national average? To be truly good, one has to transcend this mindset and surpass national standards significantly.
But who is willing to put in the hard work? Who is willing to accept another's standards? Who are we bluffing when we shortchange the people to whom we are going to entrust ourselves in our silver years? I guess we reap what we sow. But I am not willing to accept this - in my books, they had failed to meet the standards which define excellence even if they had outdone themselves.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Errant Employees
Was at an outlet of a restaurant chain I frequent. Usually, I would not order the same dishes as my dining partner because I like to have variety. However, today, I decided to go for the same dishes because I was craving the same food.
The dishes arrived and both of us ordered rice topped with tonkatsu (deep fried breaded pork loin). We both removed the pork pieces and placed them on a dish. When I looked at the two portions, mine was at most half of what my friend got. This was unacceptable because this suggests poor quality control in the kitchen.
We called the waitress and impressed on her the situation. Not long later, the manager came, saw the portions and then said she would speak with the kitchen. She even had to take both portions into the kitchen to show them.
After a long while, a new, roughly equivalent portion was served. We actually had to remind them to serve. This time, the meat was way overdone. The bread crumbs were nearly burnt. The meat was tough as rubber.
I could have kicked up another fuss but I simply told the manager that I won't make her life hard. Anyway, it was just feedback that if they do not get their kitchen in order, their business was going to suffer.
Only then did I find out that the kitchen manager was on leave today and the kitchen crew had run amok.
What luck to have such errant employees.
The dishes arrived and both of us ordered rice topped with tonkatsu (deep fried breaded pork loin). We both removed the pork pieces and placed them on a dish. When I looked at the two portions, mine was at most half of what my friend got. This was unacceptable because this suggests poor quality control in the kitchen.
We called the waitress and impressed on her the situation. Not long later, the manager came, saw the portions and then said she would speak with the kitchen. She even had to take both portions into the kitchen to show them.
After a long while, a new, roughly equivalent portion was served. We actually had to remind them to serve. This time, the meat was way overdone. The bread crumbs were nearly burnt. The meat was tough as rubber.
I could have kicked up another fuss but I simply told the manager that I won't make her life hard. Anyway, it was just feedback that if they do not get their kitchen in order, their business was going to suffer.
Only then did I find out that the kitchen manager was on leave today and the kitchen crew had run amok.
What luck to have such errant employees.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Fairy Tale Endings
TV series Little Nyonya ended recently and many viewers are grousing about the disappointing ending.
Many people thought the long suffering female lead Yueniang should be married to the rich man's son Chen Xi. They rationalised that after having gone through so much together, they should end up together.
Eh, WAKE UP! Since when do such things happen in real life? More often than not, we end up carrying the can and get asked to make do with the lemons we are given. And by the way, since when did love or trials-and-tribulations got to do with anything?
Fairy tale endings should be banned the day Hans Christian Anderson died.
Many people thought the long suffering female lead Yueniang should be married to the rich man's son Chen Xi. They rationalised that after having gone through so much together, they should end up together.
Eh, WAKE UP! Since when do such things happen in real life? More often than not, we end up carrying the can and get asked to make do with the lemons we are given. And by the way, since when did love or trials-and-tribulations got to do with anything?
Fairy tale endings should be banned the day Hans Christian Anderson died.
如燕 【小娘惹主題曲】
愿意合上眼才能美梦无边
别让悔熏乌了从前
也许碎片才能让回忆展颜
何妨瓷花拼凑明天
谁带我寻获幸福的模
却自己谜中困锁
谁为我留下缱绻的天涯
信物是抹晚霞
Chorus:
思念如燕它飞舞舌尖
若是真爱配尝几分苦甜
意念婆娑时间里推磨
追随到何处才结果
燕如针线在青空缝编
几幅女红将以泪缀点
誓言斑驳情雾只是经过
风雨中且让我盈步婀娜
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
What's the Big Deal?
Mumbai Terror Attacks - 1 Singaporean died.
Car crash at 143 km mark of the Malaysian North South Highway (Tangkak) - 2 Singaporeans died.
Bangkok Santika Night Club New Year Celebrations fire - 3 Singaporeans died.
Taking things in perspective... Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Car crash at 143 km mark of the Malaysian North South Highway (Tangkak) - 2 Singaporeans died.
Bangkok Santika Night Club New Year Celebrations fire - 3 Singaporeans died.
Taking things in perspective... Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Ominous
Just realised that the fengshui wheel that is supposed to bring in wealth to Singapore, aka the Singapore Flyer, stopped spinning since 23 Dec. Small wonder Singapore has gone into a real mess since then. The rotting has started long time ago but the rot must have been so bad that the poor wheel must have felt strained scooping in what is there to fill out what is not.
See, what's the problem with relying on fengshui so much!
See, what's the problem with relying on fengshui so much!
Monday, January 05, 2009
Spoken in a surprised fashion
Good: "Guess what? My favourite uncle is coming," Little Johnny ejeculated.
Bad: "Guess what? My favourite uncle is coming." Little Johnny ejeculated.
Bad: "Guess what? My favourite uncle is coming." Little Johnny ejeculated.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Some cheer
Some of the most hilarious extra marital affairs
1. A woman was making out with her lover when she heard her husband return. "Quick! Into the corner and don't move!" The woman slathered her lover with baby oil and pasted thick plaster powder over him. "Stand there and pretend you're a statue," she whispered.
When her husband walked in, he put down his bags and asked what the "thing" was. "Oh, just a statue. The Adams have one and I thought it was quite pretty. So I got one for us to." The man left the matter as that.
That night, when the wife was fast asleep, the man woke up at 2 am and made a sandwich and took a glass of milk to the statue and told him, "There. Have something to eat and drink. Don't be like me. I was starving for three days when I was made to act like one at the Adams."
2. A man and his wife were both having affairs and so they were often not spending their nights together. One night, both were home and felt apologetic for their actions. After a bout of passionate making out, they both went to bed. At 2 am, the wife suddenly sat up in bed and shouted in her sleep, "Quick, out of the window! My husband's back!" Upon hearing this, the husband immediately grabbed his clothes and jumped out of the window.
3. In a backward seaside village, the male villagers often had to go out to sea to fish and were rarely at home. The female villagers were mostly having affairs with the men who were not back. After each tryst, they would go to the village pastor to confess to their sins and ask for forgiveness. After hearing the word "affair" for umpteen times, the pastor decided to Bowdlerize their sessions by having the women use the term "fall down" instead. So the confessions were less lurid.
After many years, the old pastor retired and handed over his duties to a newcomer. Before he left, he asked the village headman to convey the meaning of "fall down" to the new pastor. Unfortunately, the headman forgot.
One fine day, the pastor approached the headman and asked that a new road be built. He explained that apparently, many women had "fallen down". The headman started laughing when he realised his omission. Just then, the pastor asked rather agitatedly, "What's so funny, Headman? Don't you know your wife has "fallen down" three times last week?"
4. Rick died and was due to be cremated. When his body was checked, the undertaker found that he had the longest dick he had ever seen and decided to keep the organ for posterity. Mouthing his apologies to the already dead Rick, the undertaker explained that the tool should be kept so that Rick's descendants had something to remember him for.
That night, Rick went home and carefully unwrapped his precious cargo, telling his wife that she would be seeing something she would not have seen in her entire life. When the package was opened, the wife gasped, "Oh my god! Is Rick dead already?"
5. After trying many many times to get a son after having two daughters, a couple finally succeeded in getting one. It was a long process and when the child was born, the man was flabbergasted. "Wife," he said, "that is the ugliest baby boy I've seen. Are you sure you didn't have him with another man?" The wife looked lovingly at him and replied sweetly, "Not this time, dear. This one is really with you."
6. On his death bed, Jack looked at Jean as he tried to speak with her. "My dear Jean...," Jack began. "You're tired. Go to sleep." Jean replied. "No, I don't have much time any more. I need to confess some things to you." Jack struggled. "You don't have to. You're tired. Have some rest." Jean comforted him. "No, I really need to do it. I want to die peacefully. Jean, I've slept with your sister, your best friend and your friends." Jack whispered. In a hushed voice, Jean replied, "I know, dear. That's why I poisoned you."
1. A woman was making out with her lover when she heard her husband return. "Quick! Into the corner and don't move!" The woman slathered her lover with baby oil and pasted thick plaster powder over him. "Stand there and pretend you're a statue," she whispered.
When her husband walked in, he put down his bags and asked what the "thing" was. "Oh, just a statue. The Adams have one and I thought it was quite pretty. So I got one for us to." The man left the matter as that.
That night, when the wife was fast asleep, the man woke up at 2 am and made a sandwich and took a glass of milk to the statue and told him, "There. Have something to eat and drink. Don't be like me. I was starving for three days when I was made to act like one at the Adams."
2. A man and his wife were both having affairs and so they were often not spending their nights together. One night, both were home and felt apologetic for their actions. After a bout of passionate making out, they both went to bed. At 2 am, the wife suddenly sat up in bed and shouted in her sleep, "Quick, out of the window! My husband's back!" Upon hearing this, the husband immediately grabbed his clothes and jumped out of the window.
3. In a backward seaside village, the male villagers often had to go out to sea to fish and were rarely at home. The female villagers were mostly having affairs with the men who were not back. After each tryst, they would go to the village pastor to confess to their sins and ask for forgiveness. After hearing the word "affair" for umpteen times, the pastor decided to Bowdlerize their sessions by having the women use the term "fall down" instead. So the confessions were less lurid.
After many years, the old pastor retired and handed over his duties to a newcomer. Before he left, he asked the village headman to convey the meaning of "fall down" to the new pastor. Unfortunately, the headman forgot.
One fine day, the pastor approached the headman and asked that a new road be built. He explained that apparently, many women had "fallen down". The headman started laughing when he realised his omission. Just then, the pastor asked rather agitatedly, "What's so funny, Headman? Don't you know your wife has "fallen down" three times last week?"
4. Rick died and was due to be cremated. When his body was checked, the undertaker found that he had the longest dick he had ever seen and decided to keep the organ for posterity. Mouthing his apologies to the already dead Rick, the undertaker explained that the tool should be kept so that Rick's descendants had something to remember him for.
That night, Rick went home and carefully unwrapped his precious cargo, telling his wife that she would be seeing something she would not have seen in her entire life. When the package was opened, the wife gasped, "Oh my god! Is Rick dead already?"
5. After trying many many times to get a son after having two daughters, a couple finally succeeded in getting one. It was a long process and when the child was born, the man was flabbergasted. "Wife," he said, "that is the ugliest baby boy I've seen. Are you sure you didn't have him with another man?" The wife looked lovingly at him and replied sweetly, "Not this time, dear. This one is really with you."
6. On his death bed, Jack looked at Jean as he tried to speak with her. "My dear Jean...," Jack began. "You're tired. Go to sleep." Jean replied. "No, I don't have much time any more. I need to confess some things to you." Jack struggled. "You don't have to. You're tired. Have some rest." Jean comforted him. "No, I really need to do it. I want to die peacefully. Jean, I've slept with your sister, your best friend and your friends." Jack whispered. In a hushed voice, Jean replied, "I know, dear. That's why I poisoned you."
Friday, January 02, 2009
New Year Resolution 2009
See how smart I am? People simply can't keep resolutions. I'll just make one resolution which whether I keep it or not, I'm still successful.
My resolution: Not to have a resolution.
Why resolve to do something and then forget it?
Honestly speaking, why must it be the new year that a resolution can be made? If so, then all marriages should only take place on New Year's Day or else there isn't a resolution to stay married. Now, do you understand why people marry and divorce? There is really no link to why the bride wears white and the groom wears black. It has got to do with the day couple are married. They are married on non-resolute days. So they stray.
Death should only occur on New Year's Day for the same reason. Otherwise, the dead can't stay dead. And Miss Ghost Whisperer will be in business. And do you remember how much she used to hate her gift? Poor her. In the recent series, her handsome paramedic husband is dead. Then he comes back to life when his soul takes over a dead motorist's body. I shouldn't tell you too much or you will resolve never to visit my blog again. That, I know, is not good for me.
Giving away babies should only be done on New Year's Day. In this way, the resolve of giving up the child will ensure that neither the mother will renege on her decision nor the child will return to acknowledge the birth parent(s). If this were done, Dr Cuddy in House would have gotten her child from the coke junkie (who reminds me of an ex-colleague) and the poor Chinese girl would not have gone back to China to try and locate her parents, only to find that when they tried to get rid of her in 1983 due to China's one-child policy, they shoved needles into her head. The pins were embedded in her brains and one of them pressed against her addiction centre, turning her alcoholic. Ok, I shan't tell you more. Or House won't be as exciting. I just wonder if Singapore will allow the episode where Thirteen was kissing a girl at the start and another girl at the end.
Did I say to much? I have nothing more to say to you... But all you have to do is to know that every word is true.
Did I hear someone ask me what are the advantages of my new year resolution?
My resolution: Not to have a resolution.
Why resolve to do something and then forget it?
Honestly speaking, why must it be the new year that a resolution can be made? If so, then all marriages should only take place on New Year's Day or else there isn't a resolution to stay married. Now, do you understand why people marry and divorce? There is really no link to why the bride wears white and the groom wears black. It has got to do with the day couple are married. They are married on non-resolute days. So they stray.
Death should only occur on New Year's Day for the same reason. Otherwise, the dead can't stay dead. And Miss Ghost Whisperer will be in business. And do you remember how much she used to hate her gift? Poor her. In the recent series, her handsome paramedic husband is dead. Then he comes back to life when his soul takes over a dead motorist's body. I shouldn't tell you too much or you will resolve never to visit my blog again. That, I know, is not good for me.
Giving away babies should only be done on New Year's Day. In this way, the resolve of giving up the child will ensure that neither the mother will renege on her decision nor the child will return to acknowledge the birth parent(s). If this were done, Dr Cuddy in House would have gotten her child from the coke junkie (who reminds me of an ex-colleague) and the poor Chinese girl would not have gone back to China to try and locate her parents, only to find that when they tried to get rid of her in 1983 due to China's one-child policy, they shoved needles into her head. The pins were embedded in her brains and one of them pressed against her addiction centre, turning her alcoholic. Ok, I shan't tell you more. Or House won't be as exciting. I just wonder if Singapore will allow the episode where Thirteen was kissing a girl at the start and another girl at the end.
Did I say to much? I have nothing more to say to you... But all you have to do is to know that every word is true.
Did I hear someone ask me what are the advantages of my new year resolution?
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