Of course, by the time I got to part 3 of my memoirs, a blue-blooded American had to tell me to quit my "bitchin'". Ha ha ha... I knew this was going to happen and will I ever quit bitching? Only time will tell. One thing I know, I am now not as jetlagged as I was; I am amazed that I recovered this quickly. I bet the injured shoulder does contribute to that (more endorphines?) but I am now more concerned about my impending check out in about 40 minutes and my arduous journey to the next hotel. One can't stay at the Sheraton at almost USD 200 per night unless one had to; the next hotel is less than USD 100 per night. As reluctant as I am to reduce myself to the next place, I need to. USD 100 pays for many meals. Thus, this final part of the memoirs.
One cannot help but be very awed by the John F Kennedy Airport in New York. It is amazingly huge and there are many pieces of artwork adorning its walls. I am not artsy enough to know if they can be considered impressive but it goes give me a feeling that the place I am about to visit welcomes people from all lands and is tolerant of diversity. And before long, one enters the border control area where queues form rapidly and snake around the barriers.
I hate the wait. There is something about the US border control folks that I should... not bitch about this time. Amazingly, for all the grief that the guy manning the counter had given to all the visitors before me, checking them till heavens come, he cleared me in record time.
It was as though he had been expecting me and after a couple of questions - what is your purpose for visiting and how long will you be here - he fingerprinted me like a con, took my mugshot and cleared me. All with so much friendliness I thought I would faint. I was so happy that I promptly went to the wrong baggage claim carousel and begin wondering why there were so few Germans among the passengers waiting for their luggage. Before long, I realised my mistake and went to the correct belt. My bags arrived in less than 5 minutes. (Of course, when you wait for almost 45 minutes at border control...)
I grabbed my bags and was waved through the customs folks even though I declared I had meat products (pork jerky for my NJ friends). Compared to Newark, JFK was really a breeze to go through. Everything was bigger and brighter. People were friendlier and the atmosphere was more welcoming.
Yesterday, the US revealed a new, friendlier face to a traveller. And to this terribly tired and irate traveller who has another leg of rail travel to complete, it was very much appreciated.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 3
Familiar sights greeted me the minute I stepped out of the LIRR into the Penn Station in New York City. Incredible. I was 26 hours into my odessey at that time.
I had to drag my luggage and navigate through the madding crowds to get to the booking counters. Alas, they were very crowded. I could book a ticket on one of those self-service machines but... is Philadelphia Station the same as the Philadelphia 30th Street Station? You see, there are many things in the US that do not make sense. Multiple naming of the same thing is one of them.
I could either queue up for a ticket and risk missing 665 Keystone at 1.17 pm and instead take 667 Keystone an hour later, or I could take a chance. So I decided to take a chance. I booked the ticket and went to buy lunch. And why does it cost USD20 more to book the tickets on the spot,one wonders.
Lunch... the familiar shops and the familiar produce in the familiar sizes. How I love coming to the US. So I picked up a cranberry muffin for lunch. I always loved berries and between a blueberry scone and a cranberry muffin both going for the same price, let's say I prefer the moister cake. It was a huge sized muffin, which I just finished eathing the second half as I was writing the last blog entry.
Once I scored lunch, the train was in station. It was hell all the way. I had to lug my 2 bags down a flight of stairs, and while it was fortunate that there is an elevator (or lift, as the British calls it) to bring me down to trackside. However, the safety bumps on the already narrow platforms made dragging the luggage an awful chore. But the worst is yet to be.
How Ameicans can name trolley lines by direction (East/West) when there is even no reference direction to begin with puzzles me. Imagine arriving at Philly Station and then have absolutely no inkling that the trolley (aka subway) is actually not part of the larger train station. Pity the poor traveller who don't know that. And worse, after you get into the paid area, you ask yourself - 36th Street East or West? And when you try to ask someone... Hello, anyone?
And horrors of the worst kind happened in 36th Street Station. The station does not even have a lift from platform to road level. My left shoulder is most likely sprained, if lightly, and I'm in some pain. Of course, I had to get out of the wrong exit and make an additional road crossing.
On a brighter note, I found the meeting place and I'm looking forward to the meeting later.
Time for bed part 2.
I had to drag my luggage and navigate through the madding crowds to get to the booking counters. Alas, they were very crowded. I could book a ticket on one of those self-service machines but... is Philadelphia Station the same as the Philadelphia 30th Street Station? You see, there are many things in the US that do not make sense. Multiple naming of the same thing is one of them.
I could either queue up for a ticket and risk missing 665 Keystone at 1.17 pm and instead take 667 Keystone an hour later, or I could take a chance. So I decided to take a chance. I booked the ticket and went to buy lunch. And why does it cost USD20 more to book the tickets on the spot,one wonders.
Lunch... the familiar shops and the familiar produce in the familiar sizes. How I love coming to the US. So I picked up a cranberry muffin for lunch. I always loved berries and between a blueberry scone and a cranberry muffin both going for the same price, let's say I prefer the moister cake. It was a huge sized muffin, which I just finished eathing the second half as I was writing the last blog entry.
Once I scored lunch, the train was in station. It was hell all the way. I had to lug my 2 bags down a flight of stairs, and while it was fortunate that there is an elevator (or lift, as the British calls it) to bring me down to trackside. However, the safety bumps on the already narrow platforms made dragging the luggage an awful chore. But the worst is yet to be.
How Ameicans can name trolley lines by direction (East/West) when there is even no reference direction to begin with puzzles me. Imagine arriving at Philly Station and then have absolutely no inkling that the trolley (aka subway) is actually not part of the larger train station. Pity the poor traveller who don't know that. And worse, after you get into the paid area, you ask yourself - 36th Street East or West? And when you try to ask someone... Hello, anyone?
And horrors of the worst kind happened in 36th Street Station. The station does not even have a lift from platform to road level. My left shoulder is most likely sprained, if lightly, and I'm in some pain. Of course, I had to get out of the wrong exit and make an additional road crossing.
On a brighter note, I found the meeting place and I'm looking forward to the meeting later.
Time for bed part 2.
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 2
Clearing the Frankfurt Airport security once more was as bad as I imagined. Actually, a little more harrowing than I had expected.
You see, Mr USA grabbed his oversized bags and headed out towards the baggage claim area, giving me hope that he might be gone in Frankfurt after all. But NO! As I queued to re-check in, I saw him turn back and attempt to join the over bloated queue. It was then that I decided to go and get a seat change.
The Frankfurt Gate Hold Room was too small for the passengers of a B744. There were simply insufficient seats and too little personal space. There were meandering corridors which passengers had to navigate through to get to the seats and there was even a mobile deli-magazine-souvenir store inside the room. But there were not enough seats, no privacy, no computers offering free email, no water dispensers offering the parched travellers any free water.
Ok, I should blame Singapore Changi Airport for this. But then if we think about it, Singapore Airlines carry its Europe-bound passengers to the Lufthansa Hub in Frankfurt, where they starburst to their final destinations (pun NOT intended) on LH flights (mostly). Both airlines are Star Alliance members. So, why should there be a difference in the comfort levels for the passengers?
I should also reiterate the low ceilings of FRA, giving most of us a feeling of being boxed in. The perceived pressure is quite incredible.
This time, I was seated in an aisle seat with the adjoining seat empty (phew!) and across the same row of seats was a German granny. In fact, we had two empty seats between us and we were both happy. On my right was a family of 6 - a rather young couple and their 4 kids. If you didn't know, you might guess that the father was an elder brother to the son. But they were very independent and very well behaved. Dad was incredible. He ran the entire process of getting the kids fed, filling out their immigration cards, checking on them and so on with Hitler-like efficiency but with so much care and love. Mum seemed to have a relatively easier time.
The food on this FRA-JFK flight was pretty lopsided. The breads were dropdead gorgeous. Could be the age, could be the palatte, could be... But I've fallen in love in German breads all over again. It's light, yet it packs a pretty weighty load. The lightly crisp crusts and the buttery centres with the silky smooth German butter and strawberry jam. I could eat a dozen buns in the blink of an eye!
Breakfast was either mushroom crepe (oh no, I'm only doing crepes at Out of the Pan at Swissotel Stamford) or pork vermicelli. I had the latter and found there were more bean sprouts than there were vermicelli. Go figure.
The light meal was either Thai Curry Beef or Chicken in paprika sauce. As I don't eat beef, I went for the chicken. Wasn't too bad but thank god for the ice-cream dessert. That Walls Nugger - another German product - blew me away. Looks like it's time to visit Germany for food soon.
I could see the German family enjoyed their food and all. And as fate would have it, we left the plane "together", picked up our luggage "apart", "met" at the toilet and ended up on the same Airtrain. Father and eldest son were unsure if they were on the correct train. I shared my brochure with them and they were finally assured they were. As they reached Federal Circle to pick up the rental car, we wished one another good luck and went our separate ways.
In a while, I reached Jamaica Station and off I went to the LIRR to NYC.
You see, Mr USA grabbed his oversized bags and headed out towards the baggage claim area, giving me hope that he might be gone in Frankfurt after all. But NO! As I queued to re-check in, I saw him turn back and attempt to join the over bloated queue. It was then that I decided to go and get a seat change.
The Frankfurt Gate Hold Room was too small for the passengers of a B744. There were simply insufficient seats and too little personal space. There were meandering corridors which passengers had to navigate through to get to the seats and there was even a mobile deli-magazine-souvenir store inside the room. But there were not enough seats, no privacy, no computers offering free email, no water dispensers offering the parched travellers any free water.
Ok, I should blame Singapore Changi Airport for this. But then if we think about it, Singapore Airlines carry its Europe-bound passengers to the Lufthansa Hub in Frankfurt, where they starburst to their final destinations (pun NOT intended) on LH flights (mostly). Both airlines are Star Alliance members. So, why should there be a difference in the comfort levels for the passengers?
I should also reiterate the low ceilings of FRA, giving most of us a feeling of being boxed in. The perceived pressure is quite incredible.
This time, I was seated in an aisle seat with the adjoining seat empty (phew!) and across the same row of seats was a German granny. In fact, we had two empty seats between us and we were both happy. On my right was a family of 6 - a rather young couple and their 4 kids. If you didn't know, you might guess that the father was an elder brother to the son. But they were very independent and very well behaved. Dad was incredible. He ran the entire process of getting the kids fed, filling out their immigration cards, checking on them and so on with Hitler-like efficiency but with so much care and love. Mum seemed to have a relatively easier time.
The food on this FRA-JFK flight was pretty lopsided. The breads were dropdead gorgeous. Could be the age, could be the palatte, could be... But I've fallen in love in German breads all over again. It's light, yet it packs a pretty weighty load. The lightly crisp crusts and the buttery centres with the silky smooth German butter and strawberry jam. I could eat a dozen buns in the blink of an eye!
Breakfast was either mushroom crepe (oh no, I'm only doing crepes at Out of the Pan at Swissotel Stamford) or pork vermicelli. I had the latter and found there were more bean sprouts than there were vermicelli. Go figure.
The light meal was either Thai Curry Beef or Chicken in paprika sauce. As I don't eat beef, I went for the chicken. Wasn't too bad but thank god for the ice-cream dessert. That Walls Nugger - another German product - blew me away. Looks like it's time to visit Germany for food soon.
I could see the German family enjoyed their food and all. And as fate would have it, we left the plane "together", picked up our luggage "apart", "met" at the toilet and ended up on the same Airtrain. Father and eldest son were unsure if they were on the correct train. I shared my brochure with them and they were finally assured they were. As they reached Federal Circle to pick up the rental car, we wished one another good luck and went our separate ways.
In a while, I reached Jamaica Station and off I went to the LIRR to NYC.
Memoirs of a Jetlagged-sha 1
There is no two ways about it. Jetlagged or not, the first and foremost desire is to bitch. So here goes.
The flight started off really badly. The heavy flight traffic caused the plane to take off nearly an hour late and worse, I was seated beside some idiotic American man in his 50s. Burly and stocky, he insisted on taking over "my" right seat rest despite having two seats to himself in the middle of the centre block of the 747 flight. I could either stick out to my left and be knocked down by people walking down the aisle or food trolleys, or we can compromise and he moves a little to his right and I move to my left to the extent of not putting myself in mortal harm's way. But no, he can't. So we engaged in a tact elbow and shoulder battle throughout the entire flight from Singapore to Frankfurt. Trust me, we even stuck elbows into each other's midsections. And for jerks like him, he brings out the worst of me. I turned in my sleep and let off some air in his direction. He was completely non-receptive of any "kind" he gets. I was nice enough to not do anything beyond the sovereign airspace of the handle but he never knew to respect that. When he plonked himself onto that seat, he closed the overhead compartment! When I opened it, I realised he had two huge bags and on the huger of the two, he hung a PPS tag, suggesting that he is a First Class frequent flyer. But he certainly had no First Class EQ.
When I arrived in Frankfurt, I was pissed enough to complain to the airline representatives on the ground. They swapped me to another seat. And as I walk forward to the lavatory, I see the poor guy assigned the seat I last vacated, leaning out perilously because this f*ck*ng b*st*rd won't share.
... to be continued.
The flight started off really badly. The heavy flight traffic caused the plane to take off nearly an hour late and worse, I was seated beside some idiotic American man in his 50s. Burly and stocky, he insisted on taking over "my" right seat rest despite having two seats to himself in the middle of the centre block of the 747 flight. I could either stick out to my left and be knocked down by people walking down the aisle or food trolleys, or we can compromise and he moves a little to his right and I move to my left to the extent of not putting myself in mortal harm's way. But no, he can't. So we engaged in a tact elbow and shoulder battle throughout the entire flight from Singapore to Frankfurt. Trust me, we even stuck elbows into each other's midsections. And for jerks like him, he brings out the worst of me. I turned in my sleep and let off some air in his direction. He was completely non-receptive of any "kind" he gets. I was nice enough to not do anything beyond the sovereign airspace of the handle but he never knew to respect that. When he plonked himself onto that seat, he closed the overhead compartment! When I opened it, I realised he had two huge bags and on the huger of the two, he hung a PPS tag, suggesting that he is a First Class frequent flyer. But he certainly had no First Class EQ.
When I arrived in Frankfurt, I was pissed enough to complain to the airline representatives on the ground. They swapped me to another seat. And as I walk forward to the lavatory, I see the poor guy assigned the seat I last vacated, leaning out perilously because this f*ck*ng b*st*rd won't share.
... to be continued.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Bull...
The source of fuel for many an organisation.
I think this verbal excerpt is taken from some dialogue from some TV show. And I cannot seem to take it out of my consciousness just yet.
I cannot help but think of this when I look at the promise of the AH1N1 vaccine as a cure or for prophylaxis to deal with the ongoing pandemic.
In view of the vaccine, the WHO Director General should be commended for her even keel in stating her reservation about seeking a cure with scant regard for proven safety.
I now wonder what is the next yarn the Big Pharmas purportedly mass producing these vaccines are going to spin...
I think this verbal excerpt is taken from some dialogue from some TV show. And I cannot seem to take it out of my consciousness just yet.
I cannot help but think of this when I look at the promise of the AH1N1 vaccine as a cure or for prophylaxis to deal with the ongoing pandemic.
In view of the vaccine, the WHO Director General should be commended for her even keel in stating her reservation about seeking a cure with scant regard for proven safety.
I now wonder what is the next yarn the Big Pharmas purportedly mass producing these vaccines are going to spin...
If it sounds too good to be true...
It probably is.
I bet this is what many people who paid up to S$12 000 for a ONE-YEAR Bachelor degree from the ROYAL MELBOURNE INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY found out.
How is that even possible? I also wonder...
How is it possible for near academic morons - sorry, I don't know how else to describe them - achieve a degree from a top Australian university in ONE year when top government scholars take at least 2 years of full loads (including two summer terms at full loads) to complete the same degree at the same university. In fact, most top students attempting to do so at any of these accredited universities need about 2.5 years to complete a degree.
And many of these people paying for the shortcut cannot even write a proper sentence to save their lives.
I bet this is what many people who paid up to S$12 000 for a ONE-YEAR Bachelor degree from the ROYAL MELBOURNE INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY found out.
How is that even possible? I also wonder...
How is it possible for near academic morons - sorry, I don't know how else to describe them - achieve a degree from a top Australian university in ONE year when top government scholars take at least 2 years of full loads (including two summer terms at full loads) to complete the same degree at the same university. In fact, most top students attempting to do so at any of these accredited universities need about 2.5 years to complete a degree.
And many of these people paying for the shortcut cannot even write a proper sentence to save their lives.
Lappy's Home
The laptop was returned yesterday. Fortunately, only the motherboard needed replacement. Everything else, including all the files, was intact. Phew!
But the button '4' dropped out. Looks like it needs to be sent in after I return from the US again.
But the button '4' dropped out. Looks like it needs to be sent in after I return from the US again.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
眼泪成诗 Tears To Poems
I'm going to dedicate this to all those who are recently out of love. I particularly love the first stanza. The opening lines of describing the recovered wounds as roses and the reincarnation of teardrops into raindrops were particularly poetic.
<<眼泪成诗>>
我已经 已经把我伤口化作玫瑰
我的泪水 已经变成雨水早已轮回
我已经 已经把对白留成了永远
忘了天色 究竟是黑是灰
[I have already turned my wounds into roses
My teardrops have already reincarnated into raindrops
I have already turned our conversations into eternity
Forgotten if the skies were black or grey]
*分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
因为回忆总是美*
[*Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because memories are the most beautiful*]
我已经 已经把绝情变成了恭维
因为不配 你就忽然自卑说声失陪
我已经 已经把沉默变成了忏悔
无路可退 只能无言以对
[I have already turned my unfeeling into mutual respect
Because of our unequal status you suddenly feel inferior and said goodbye
I have already turned my taciturn into remorse
With no where to back off I can only face everything with silence]
Repeat **
分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已是无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
你的品味总是美
[Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because your choice had been for the most beautiful]
<<眼泪成诗>>
我已经 已经把我伤口化作玫瑰
我的泪水 已经变成雨水早已轮回
我已经 已经把对白留成了永远
忘了天色 究竟是黑是灰
[I have already turned my wounds into roses
My teardrops have already reincarnated into raindrops
I have already turned our conversations into eternity
Forgotten if the skies were black or grey]
*分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
因为回忆总是美*
[*Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because memories are the most beautiful*]
我已经 已经把绝情变成了恭维
因为不配 你就忽然自卑说声失陪
我已经 已经把沉默变成了忏悔
无路可退 只能无言以对
[I have already turned my unfeeling into mutual respect
Because of our unequal status you suddenly feel inferior and said goodbye
I have already turned my taciturn into remorse
With no where to back off I can only face everything with silence]
Repeat **
分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已是无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
你的品味总是美
[Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because your choice had been for the most beautiful]
On tenterhooks
The brain is almost unreliable these days with words I hardly use. The latent memory store does not maintain its integrity enough. I had to check a dictionary, I turn to online ones these days, to check if my tenterhoooks was spelled correctly. D*mn, I was really that tentative about it. But that shouldn't come as a big surprise to me. My entire being last week and this has been on tenterhooks for more things than one.
(Very soon, I should write an academic essay here and then direct all my students to come over here to take a look at one correct academic writing piece so that they know what is a hook, what is a thesis statement, what is a topic sentence, what are admissible evidence, what are cinchers etc... But that is a day in some future.)
The first salvo was my 4 month old Nokia phone not holding charge. I had to send it down last Tuesday to the Nokia service centre and kick up a fuss there because the counter staff tried to shirk out of their product warranty. He claimed that battery life - even if the user manual stated that it lasts up to 300 hours on standby - can be as short as 48 to 72 hours because of all sorts of factors. Yeah, right. When I got the phone new, the battery held charge up to 240 hours (10 days). Now, it drains itself flat, on standby mode, in 48 hours. What could have happened? All sorts of what factors? What about a spoilt battery? I stood my ground and my phone was finally taken in for repair.
The service centre called to inform me on Friday last. The phone is ready for collection. Fine. Looks good to me. Then my computer crashed. It shut itself down and would not reboot.
Housemate said the hard disk crashed. I was devastated. (I can spell devastated because being Murphy's favourite nephew, this word is more frequently used than tenterhooks. Honestly, there is no need to be on tenterhooks usually; one does not often have impending trips.) I hope that it is not. If it is, all my hard work and trip information would be gone. I need to start writing emails to the people I wish to meet to check the timing all over again.
To make things worse, the scheduled back up hard disk went AWOL and had not been backing up my stuff since May. The laptop was finally sent in to HP that same day at 7 pm and even at HP, I had to raise my voice (just a little) at them. It was the third time in a row that I was told my set was not under warranty. However, the fact that my set was under extended warranty (note to all HP laptop buyers: First critical crash-and-burn will occur within 6 months of the first year warranty's expiry; second within 6 months of the extended warranty's (usually for an additional next 24 months) expiry) was established about 4 months ago when it was discovered that HP did not register the set for extended cover. The supporting receipts were faxed to HP, who acknowledged receipt of the extended warranty. Yet, this time, my set was still... Fortunately, the receipts were in the car. Housemate genius conveniently left the documents in the car foreseeing that another showdown would be inevitable given the reliability of HP products. So warranty was finally settled.
But HP has not gotten back to me to tell me if their initial diagnosis of a motherboard failure was correct. The laptop isn't with me yet. I'm working on my older laptop with an external monitor. The LCD screen died 1 month after its 36 month warranty. I probably need to blame certain bloggers who are always in pink for shocking my poor monitor out of consciousness. I jest, but the only reason why I stuck to HP is for their after sales service.
Mini hiccups and the Wii... Oh, after my intial encounter with Super Mario Galaxy and my decision to lay off it entirely, I went back and played the game for a few more times and cleared a few more worlds. But I digress. Amidst these awful occurrences, I had a great save from a friend-cum-mentor. She made me prepare a list of critical info to send to her for a quick browse and from her, I managed to get a document - perhaps the most important one of all - back. It probably saved me another 2 weeks of research to put that same list back together. Yes, it ain't easy reading pages and pages of CV and description to decide if you can work with that someone on your postgrad studies.
I now wait with bated breath, my luggage and all not packed yet, for any news of my laptop. Defnitely on tenterhooks, you bet.
(Very soon, I should write an academic essay here and then direct all my students to come over here to take a look at one correct academic writing piece so that they know what is a hook, what is a thesis statement, what is a topic sentence, what are admissible evidence, what are cinchers etc... But that is a day in some future.)
The first salvo was my 4 month old Nokia phone not holding charge. I had to send it down last Tuesday to the Nokia service centre and kick up a fuss there because the counter staff tried to shirk out of their product warranty. He claimed that battery life - even if the user manual stated that it lasts up to 300 hours on standby - can be as short as 48 to 72 hours because of all sorts of factors. Yeah, right. When I got the phone new, the battery held charge up to 240 hours (10 days). Now, it drains itself flat, on standby mode, in 48 hours. What could have happened? All sorts of what factors? What about a spoilt battery? I stood my ground and my phone was finally taken in for repair.
The service centre called to inform me on Friday last. The phone is ready for collection. Fine. Looks good to me. Then my computer crashed. It shut itself down and would not reboot.
Housemate said the hard disk crashed. I was devastated. (I can spell devastated because being Murphy's favourite nephew, this word is more frequently used than tenterhooks. Honestly, there is no need to be on tenterhooks usually; one does not often have impending trips.) I hope that it is not. If it is, all my hard work and trip information would be gone. I need to start writing emails to the people I wish to meet to check the timing all over again.
To make things worse, the scheduled back up hard disk went AWOL and had not been backing up my stuff since May. The laptop was finally sent in to HP that same day at 7 pm and even at HP, I had to raise my voice (just a little) at them. It was the third time in a row that I was told my set was not under warranty. However, the fact that my set was under extended warranty (note to all HP laptop buyers: First critical crash-and-burn will occur within 6 months of the first year warranty's expiry; second within 6 months of the extended warranty's (usually for an additional next 24 months) expiry) was established about 4 months ago when it was discovered that HP did not register the set for extended cover. The supporting receipts were faxed to HP, who acknowledged receipt of the extended warranty. Yet, this time, my set was still... Fortunately, the receipts were in the car. Housemate genius conveniently left the documents in the car foreseeing that another showdown would be inevitable given the reliability of HP products. So warranty was finally settled.
But HP has not gotten back to me to tell me if their initial diagnosis of a motherboard failure was correct. The laptop isn't with me yet. I'm working on my older laptop with an external monitor. The LCD screen died 1 month after its 36 month warranty. I probably need to blame certain bloggers who are always in pink for shocking my poor monitor out of consciousness. I jest, but the only reason why I stuck to HP is for their after sales service.
Mini hiccups and the Wii... Oh, after my intial encounter with Super Mario Galaxy and my decision to lay off it entirely, I went back and played the game for a few more times and cleared a few more worlds. But I digress. Amidst these awful occurrences, I had a great save from a friend-cum-mentor. She made me prepare a list of critical info to send to her for a quick browse and from her, I managed to get a document - perhaps the most important one of all - back. It probably saved me another 2 weeks of research to put that same list back together. Yes, it ain't easy reading pages and pages of CV and description to decide if you can work with that someone on your postgrad studies.
I now wait with bated breath, my luggage and all not packed yet, for any news of my laptop. Defnitely on tenterhooks, you bet.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Residents and Inmates
While I blogged the last entry about my semi-addiction to Super Mario Galaxy, I wrote a line about introducing a slower version of the game to the residents of old folks' homes. Residents, I wrote. But many people tend to, for some odd reason, use the word inmates.
The aptness of the word choice never fails to make me sit up and think. In a way, to many of the residents, the OFH is a facility to which they are "inmates." A kind of restraining facility, albeit with no restriction over visitations and homestays, which has to be PAID FOR instead of state provided. Physical movement is constrained to the grounds and there are fixed times for all sorts of activities. It is perhaps really an inmate's life that many are living.
But with more people not marrying and not having children, is there a viable alternative to becoming inmates of OFHs?
The aptness of the word choice never fails to make me sit up and think. In a way, to many of the residents, the OFH is a facility to which they are "inmates." A kind of restraining facility, albeit with no restriction over visitations and homestays, which has to be PAID FOR instead of state provided. Physical movement is constrained to the grounds and there are fixed times for all sorts of activities. It is perhaps really an inmate's life that many are living.
But with more people not marrying and not having children, is there a viable alternative to becoming inmates of OFHs?
Super Mario Galaxy
The Wii machine met a new friend last weekend. The new friend needs to be inserted into the machine's hole. And after inserting the friend, new pleasure results. In fact, it was so pleasurable that hours are spent trying to top each previosu climax as the positions got progressively more challenging and each round more tedious.
Welcome to my Super Mario Galaxy semi-addiction.
The game started slowly enough. The moves were initially clumsy and the movement slow. But trust me, at the grand old age of... heck, you'll figure out my age anyway. The point is, even if you can teach an old dog new tricks, you can't overcome the fact that aged joints and ancient habits are hard to overcome. I therefore concede: my moves are still clumsy and the movement slow. Trust me, you won't want to read how many times I steered Mario into the black hole. Ok, I didn't steer him into the black holes but the imprecision of my moves inevitably meant Mario became BH fodder one time too many. How many, you ask? Well, try from 15 lives to nothing and then from 10 to nothing and then another 1 more before I cleared some particularly difficult stages.
And you know what's even better about SMG? The programming folks allow you to return to the game from the last point you left off instead of requiring you to begin from scratch. So you get new frustrations when the positions and techniques don't work and new highs when they do. The mind keeps telling itself that it can top the stage and one reaches for the start button after each game over. The ass is rooted to the seat and the mind loses all track of time. (Maybe, Wii and a slower version of SMG can be introduced to old folks' home to keep the residents engaged. Maybe not; they might fight over who's turn it is.)
Yet, the amazing graphics aside, the trick is to know... the tricks. The programmers are not very smart. I've got them figured out mostly. In certain worlds or galaxies, I pick up so many lives that I was incredibly elated. At the same time, I knew the extras would never be enough; how does one pick up extra lives quickly enough a whole game when one needs 26 of them to clear some particularly tricky stage? I don't know how I managed to clear some of those inhuman stages, but I did.
One can usually progress after mentally working through the algorithm required to clear that stage; keeping Mario alive long enough to clear the stage is the larger problem for me. Unfortunately, though, mental dexterity did not make up for the lack of finesse in the finer movements. The fingers were not stiff - digital (pun intended) gravity works differently, I'd say. Of course there are many excuses. This is where I spend all my time moaning about my exciting life, regardless how exciting it really is. Did you expect otherwise?
For all the fun and pleasure it brings, SMG is a silent time killer. I take anywhere between 45 minutes and 3 hours to clear a stage and I've sat in front of the Wii for almost 6 hours yesterday. That is bad. Extremely bad, if you ask me. And at 1.30 am this morning, when I tried to sleep after my shower, all I saw when I shut my eyes were the stars and the coins I was supposed to pick up in the games. My mind was all hyperactive; I can't get to sleep. The brain was devising ways to pick up stars and coins in the various configuration set by and for itself.
At that moment, I think I'm getting out of control. I need to do something quick. I got out of bed, removed the Super Mario Galaxy CD, returned it into its cover and asked for it to be returned. I can't be addicted to it. I can play other things like Wii Sports. That's fine, because there is a limiting factor called physical exhaustion. Wii Sports require you to mimick the actual sports action and with such physical activity, you get worn out and at the opportune moment, you'll decide you've got enough of a workout, turn off the Wii and resume life. SMG does not wear you out. It makes you addicted. And I worry about addiction.
So, there'll be come cold turkey today. And I'll be back to Wii Sporting.
Oh, did I tell you I chose Princess Peach as my avatar? I wanted to choose Queen Bitch if it (Note at edit: Oh man, that's a Freudian slip!) existed. But then what would I do with Q**nsy? Sigh. So, Princess Peach... that's right. Sounds like Princess Bitch anyway.
This semi-addiction seems worse than I imagine...
Welcome to my Super Mario Galaxy semi-addiction.
The game started slowly enough. The moves were initially clumsy and the movement slow. But trust me, at the grand old age of... heck, you'll figure out my age anyway. The point is, even if you can teach an old dog new tricks, you can't overcome the fact that aged joints and ancient habits are hard to overcome. I therefore concede: my moves are still clumsy and the movement slow. Trust me, you won't want to read how many times I steered Mario into the black hole. Ok, I didn't steer him into the black holes but the imprecision of my moves inevitably meant Mario became BH fodder one time too many. How many, you ask? Well, try from 15 lives to nothing and then from 10 to nothing and then another 1 more before I cleared some particularly difficult stages.
And you know what's even better about SMG? The programming folks allow you to return to the game from the last point you left off instead of requiring you to begin from scratch. So you get new frustrations when the positions and techniques don't work and new highs when they do. The mind keeps telling itself that it can top the stage and one reaches for the start button after each game over. The ass is rooted to the seat and the mind loses all track of time. (Maybe, Wii and a slower version of SMG can be introduced to old folks' home to keep the residents engaged. Maybe not; they might fight over who's turn it is.)
Yet, the amazing graphics aside, the trick is to know... the tricks. The programmers are not very smart. I've got them figured out mostly. In certain worlds or galaxies, I pick up so many lives that I was incredibly elated. At the same time, I knew the extras would never be enough; how does one pick up extra lives quickly enough a whole game when one needs 26 of them to clear some particularly tricky stage? I don't know how I managed to clear some of those inhuman stages, but I did.
One can usually progress after mentally working through the algorithm required to clear that stage; keeping Mario alive long enough to clear the stage is the larger problem for me. Unfortunately, though, mental dexterity did not make up for the lack of finesse in the finer movements. The fingers were not stiff - digital (pun intended) gravity works differently, I'd say. Of course there are many excuses. This is where I spend all my time moaning about my exciting life, regardless how exciting it really is. Did you expect otherwise?
For all the fun and pleasure it brings, SMG is a silent time killer. I take anywhere between 45 minutes and 3 hours to clear a stage and I've sat in front of the Wii for almost 6 hours yesterday. That is bad. Extremely bad, if you ask me. And at 1.30 am this morning, when I tried to sleep after my shower, all I saw when I shut my eyes were the stars and the coins I was supposed to pick up in the games. My mind was all hyperactive; I can't get to sleep. The brain was devising ways to pick up stars and coins in the various configuration set by and for itself.
At that moment, I think I'm getting out of control. I need to do something quick. I got out of bed, removed the Super Mario Galaxy CD, returned it into its cover and asked for it to be returned. I can't be addicted to it. I can play other things like Wii Sports. That's fine, because there is a limiting factor called physical exhaustion. Wii Sports require you to mimick the actual sports action and with such physical activity, you get worn out and at the opportune moment, you'll decide you've got enough of a workout, turn off the Wii and resume life. SMG does not wear you out. It makes you addicted. And I worry about addiction.
So, there'll be come cold turkey today. And I'll be back to Wii Sporting.
Oh, did I tell you I chose Princess Peach as my avatar? I wanted to choose Queen Bitch if it (Note at edit: Oh man, that's a Freudian slip!) existed. But then what would I do with Q**nsy? Sigh. So, Princess Peach... that's right. Sounds like Princess Bitch anyway.
This semi-addiction seems worse than I imagine...
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Twitter Twitter
Seems like I've got myself Twitter and never got to updating it much. The reason is very simple - at least to me.
We do not have free Wifi covering the entire island and internet connection charges are exorbitant.
So, why would I pay a bomb to tell you what I'm doing. Anyway, do you really want to know what I'm doing?
We do not have free Wifi covering the entire island and internet connection charges are exorbitant.
So, why would I pay a bomb to tell you what I'm doing. Anyway, do you really want to know what I'm doing?
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Just the last bits...
I'm almost ready to go on my trip. Just have a few things to do.
1. Get a US SIM card so I don't have to incur IDD charges when making US phone calls. I know what shop to buy from but they are so far from my hotel. Perhaps I should try my luck in the airport and see if I can score something.
2. My accommodation in New York City is not done yet. This should be done after I make a phone call. Heck, the USD is climbing higher and higher recently. All my savings from the lower rates earlier when I booked my flights and other hotel rooms are not even enough to match the increase in the rates.
3. I need to find out where else to shop in NYC. Can't be doing Century 21 all the time. I want to find something new. Perhaps also go to the Guggenheim and take a picture of its exterior. Does anyone know if the renovations are complete?
4. I've got only a day in DC. I'm meeting an old friend there. And I need to know what plans my NJ friends have, so I know to book my Amtrak tickets for the correct train timing.
Time seems to fly at the wrong time and crawl at the incorrect time.
1. Get a US SIM card so I don't have to incur IDD charges when making US phone calls. I know what shop to buy from but they are so far from my hotel. Perhaps I should try my luck in the airport and see if I can score something.
2. My accommodation in New York City is not done yet. This should be done after I make a phone call. Heck, the USD is climbing higher and higher recently. All my savings from the lower rates earlier when I booked my flights and other hotel rooms are not even enough to match the increase in the rates.
3. I need to find out where else to shop in NYC. Can't be doing Century 21 all the time. I want to find something new. Perhaps also go to the Guggenheim and take a picture of its exterior. Does anyone know if the renovations are complete?
4. I've got only a day in DC. I'm meeting an old friend there. And I need to know what plans my NJ friends have, so I know to book my Amtrak tickets for the correct train timing.
Time seems to fly at the wrong time and crawl at the incorrect time.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Out of touch
I must be staying home too much. I cannot believe the oddities of society these days. Here are some instances:
1. She does not know the hole is down there. A woman tried to deposit a cheque in a quick cheque deposit box outside a bank and she kept trying to insert the cheque into where she adaamantly thinks is the slit. Despite the clear arrow and a few good looks at the opening, she kept poking the check into the wall. She has no freaking idea that the hole she needs is just 3 inches below. Until a guy puts in his cheque in the hole correctly that she finally figured. The hole is down there, woman!
2. He goes in and out of the lot. A man had to reverse into, drive out of, reverse into, drive out of and finally reverse into a car park lot. By my guesstimate, he probably didn't move the car position an inch. Perhaps he hoped that by going in and out, in and out, the inch will come somehow. I think he is mistaken. How could anyone believe that anything could get any real pleasure from such silly moves?
3. They took more pictures of the live fish awaiting slaughter in a supermarket than any one would in an aquarium. The recent phenomena of supermarkets selling live fish and seafood has turned many of these shopping places into mini attractions. Off-work foreign workers congregate in front of tanks of garoupa, snappers, tilapia, crabs, lobsters, prawn and other shell fish, snapping pictues using their handphones. I never remembered seeing so many pictures taken of fish and seafood; the now-defunct Van Kleef Aquarium certainly didn't see that much action from its visitors, even during its hey day in the 1980s.
I'm getting puzzled.
1. She does not know the hole is down there. A woman tried to deposit a cheque in a quick cheque deposit box outside a bank and she kept trying to insert the cheque into where she adaamantly thinks is the slit. Despite the clear arrow and a few good looks at the opening, she kept poking the check into the wall. She has no freaking idea that the hole she needs is just 3 inches below. Until a guy puts in his cheque in the hole correctly that she finally figured. The hole is down there, woman!
2. He goes in and out of the lot. A man had to reverse into, drive out of, reverse into, drive out of and finally reverse into a car park lot. By my guesstimate, he probably didn't move the car position an inch. Perhaps he hoped that by going in and out, in and out, the inch will come somehow. I think he is mistaken. How could anyone believe that anything could get any real pleasure from such silly moves?
3. They took more pictures of the live fish awaiting slaughter in a supermarket than any one would in an aquarium. The recent phenomena of supermarkets selling live fish and seafood has turned many of these shopping places into mini attractions. Off-work foreign workers congregate in front of tanks of garoupa, snappers, tilapia, crabs, lobsters, prawn and other shell fish, snapping pictues using their handphones. I never remembered seeing so many pictures taken of fish and seafood; the now-defunct Van Kleef Aquarium certainly didn't see that much action from its visitors, even during its hey day in the 1980s.
I'm getting puzzled.
Murphy Strikes
Strike 1
University of Maryland wrote back and said my area is not a good fit with them. There goes a safety school.
Strike 2
Amtrak takes more than 4 hours to move from Chicago Union Station to Ann Arbor. I can't possibly do a day trip and return in decent shape. I will probably reach the hotel 1 am the next morning after the DAY trip and wake up in time the next morning.
Strike 3
To make it to Chicago O'Hare International Airport by 7 am to check in, I need to hop on the 4.57 am Metro at Davis, Evanston. The trip takes about 2 hours and the reason is that the journey taken by the Metro lines go down south and the back northeast. A direct journey east would have probably taken a third the time.
Strike 4
A big shot of a particular university, after seeing my background, says my GRE Verbal scores are slightly low but "I (referring to if he were me) would definitely apply to our program." I think this is a uber long shot since the university accepts only 2 PhD students a year. But then, this big shot is really big.
Pieceofpork, message me. This university is for you.
Strike 5
To go to visit this particular university, I'll have to spend 10 hours on an Amtrak train, give up 2 nights of hotel, rebook another night of hotel, and give up one part of an airticket.
Strike 6
Not yet. But another Airbus (Yemen) bites the sea. And I'm booked on two Airbus planes for my US domestic flights. Is that irony or what?
Stike 7
You people are sadists or WHAT? Don't tell me... Of course you are enjoying this. What better way to have fun than at another's expense.
Heck, I'm going to enjoy this US trip and I can't give a bloody damn about whatever happens. At this rate things are going, and with the bird flu raging, I wonder if tomorrow will ever come. Maybe I should extend yet another day in NYC...
University of Maryland wrote back and said my area is not a good fit with them. There goes a safety school.
Strike 2
Amtrak takes more than 4 hours to move from Chicago Union Station to Ann Arbor. I can't possibly do a day trip and return in decent shape. I will probably reach the hotel 1 am the next morning after the DAY trip and wake up in time the next morning.
Strike 3
To make it to Chicago O'Hare International Airport by 7 am to check in, I need to hop on the 4.57 am Metro at Davis, Evanston. The trip takes about 2 hours and the reason is that the journey taken by the Metro lines go down south and the back northeast. A direct journey east would have probably taken a third the time.
Strike 4
A big shot of a particular university, after seeing my background, says my GRE Verbal scores are slightly low but "I (referring to if he were me) would definitely apply to our program." I think this is a uber long shot since the university accepts only 2 PhD students a year. But then, this big shot is really big.
Pieceofpork, message me. This university is for you.
Strike 5
To go to visit this particular university, I'll have to spend 10 hours on an Amtrak train, give up 2 nights of hotel, rebook another night of hotel, and give up one part of an airticket.
Strike 6
Not yet. But another Airbus (Yemen) bites the sea. And I'm booked on two Airbus planes for my US domestic flights. Is that irony or what?
Stike 7
You people are sadists or WHAT? Don't tell me... Of course you are enjoying this. What better way to have fun than at another's expense.
Heck, I'm going to enjoy this US trip and I can't give a bloody damn about whatever happens. At this rate things are going, and with the bird flu raging, I wonder if tomorrow will ever come. Maybe I should extend yet another day in NYC...
Repetitive Strain Injuries
I think I've overdone my Wii playing. The pains I'm feeling now are more injury like (you know, after an hour of tennis, almost 25 bowling games, 6 baseball games) instead of mere muscle aches. Now that I figured out what patience can do in a Wii golf game, I'm adding that to my repetoire of games.
The pain goes up the neck and radiates down the arms and fingers from a source I can't directly pin point. My back, oh my back, is in pain and my range of motion is somewhat limited. I can't turn my head left and right and my shoulders feel like they have gone on a holiday without the rest of the body.
I think I'm going to play Wii later again.
The pain goes up the neck and radiates down the arms and fingers from a source I can't directly pin point. My back, oh my back, is in pain and my range of motion is somewhat limited. I can't turn my head left and right and my shoulders feel like they have gone on a holiday without the rest of the body.
I think I'm going to play Wii later again.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
OCD
A somewhat obsessive compulsive disorderly period recently.
I.
I've been calling Singapore Airlines to no end, trying to confirm that I can indeed redeem my return flight to NYC using my flyer miles. I'd call every day and ask for status updates. Alas, to cut the long story short, I had to top up my miles to ensure that I get a seat on the flights. It had been most unproductive waiting especially when I have to make US domestic flight and hotel booking. Now that I've got the airtickets confirmed, I'm busy confirming the meetings and making arrangements for accommodation.
II.
Watching television series. I've been doing that a lot recently. And I realise there are some programmes that I enjoyed. The Mentalist, Leverage, Surviving Suburbia, Harper's Island, among others, have helped me cope with withdrawal symptoms after the usual series I watch complete their season finales. I now have The Legend of the Seekers and The Cleaner waiting to be watched. Thank god for these shows, for they restore some good balance in life. Some TV can be rational educational and fun sometimes.
III.
Cleaning up the house. I've cleared out about 20% of my books after a rather extended period of sorting them. Thankfully, a friend came over with her son and nephew and the three of them took away about 70% of what I had intended to junk. It's always good to pass books to other book lovers. At least you know they are going to good homes.
IV.
The basil plants are getting infested with bugs. This is no fault of mine but the OCD neighbour with a botanic garden outside its apartment one level up has been trimming its plants to no end. Those bugs, yes you're right, came from the plants upstairs. My basil plants are stripped leafless and I bought pesticide to spray on the plants. Now these plants cannot be eaten for at least a week. I hope the pestilence issue clears up soon or I might be driven to pour concentrated pesticide... Oh, I should not be so evil.
V.
Just got a new Wii in the house. I spent 4 hours whacking on the machine today. Now I can't lift my hand up. I even had problems trying to soap up my back because my arms are stiff from the repetitive movements playing games on the Wii.
VII.
Not getting enough sleep. This is more a case of having no time to sleep, not because it is intentional. However, with the many other OCD activities that I have, I am left with not much choice but to stay awake a little longer to clear up the backlog of work.
I shall stop here for the moment before this becomes an OCD-like post.
I.
I've been calling Singapore Airlines to no end, trying to confirm that I can indeed redeem my return flight to NYC using my flyer miles. I'd call every day and ask for status updates. Alas, to cut the long story short, I had to top up my miles to ensure that I get a seat on the flights. It had been most unproductive waiting especially when I have to make US domestic flight and hotel booking. Now that I've got the airtickets confirmed, I'm busy confirming the meetings and making arrangements for accommodation.
II.
Watching television series. I've been doing that a lot recently. And I realise there are some programmes that I enjoyed. The Mentalist, Leverage, Surviving Suburbia, Harper's Island, among others, have helped me cope with withdrawal symptoms after the usual series I watch complete their season finales. I now have The Legend of the Seekers and The Cleaner waiting to be watched. Thank god for these shows, for they restore some good balance in life. Some TV can be rational educational and fun sometimes.
III.
Cleaning up the house. I've cleared out about 20% of my books after a rather extended period of sorting them. Thankfully, a friend came over with her son and nephew and the three of them took away about 70% of what I had intended to junk. It's always good to pass books to other book lovers. At least you know they are going to good homes.
IV.
The basil plants are getting infested with bugs. This is no fault of mine but the OCD neighbour with a botanic garden outside its apartment one level up has been trimming its plants to no end. Those bugs, yes you're right, came from the plants upstairs. My basil plants are stripped leafless and I bought pesticide to spray on the plants. Now these plants cannot be eaten for at least a week. I hope the pestilence issue clears up soon or I might be driven to pour concentrated pesticide... Oh, I should not be so evil.
V.
Just got a new Wii in the house. I spent 4 hours whacking on the machine today. Now I can't lift my hand up. I even had problems trying to soap up my back because my arms are stiff from the repetitive movements playing games on the Wii.
VII.
Not getting enough sleep. This is more a case of having no time to sleep, not because it is intentional. However, with the many other OCD activities that I have, I am left with not much choice but to stay awake a little longer to clear up the backlog of work.
I shall stop here for the moment before this becomes an OCD-like post.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Apologies are in order
Now, before you read the following, I'm sorry. I had to write them and I believe I am entitled to my opinions, especially on my blog. There is no malice intended and if you are likely to be offended, please do not read this.
1. I wonder if inhabitants of a certain continent have extremely good reflexes when killing houseflies because they are often, if not perpetually, surrounded by these vectors. I ask, because I was amazed by how a particular president of such descent effortlessly killed a housefly on his country's national TV. And what's worse. I now have a nagging suspicion that killing the housefly might be the only thing he can do well and nothing much else.
2. With the advancements in technology, email, viruses, malicious computer bugs, trojans and what have you, why is it not possible to screw with a particular northern neighbour's computers so that, instead of official nuclear tests, their uranium enriching facilities simply cause spontaneous fission reactions to occur. This would lay to waste their nuclear talent and effectively stop their illegal activities. So, what are people waiting for? Or is the iron curtain too hard to penetrate...?
3. A recent advertisement on national TV has a few kids spouting irrational wishes such as "In my world, there would be a dinosaur that likes to eat trash so as to keep the ocean clean", "In my world, we can clean the sky so that the sky will always be blue", and "In my world, people would want to save the world." I haven't heard such rubbish for a long time. My vision is simpler: "In my world, you will eat trash so as to keep the ocean clean", "you will be ... (too sadistic to write in words)", and "nobody will want to save the world." Sad to say, my belief of science is that global warming is not our doing. And I don't want to write any more justifications here. It's just wishful thinking to think we can save the world.
4. The AH1N1 virus has mutated. Today's news showed that the strain has mutated and no one knows if the mutatant virus is more deadly. If it is, it would be a big fat slap on the worlds' government. A pandemic is best dealt with by getting as many people infected with the virus as possible. Imagine, when everyone is in the same room waiting to be gifted with the virus, all of them will be getting from the SAME source. If anyone develops severe symptoms, quickly isolate them for treatment. This way you get an upperhand over the virus. Do not allow the virus to spead on its volition. Ah, but these will fall on deaf ears.
Send in the clowns...
1. I wonder if inhabitants of a certain continent have extremely good reflexes when killing houseflies because they are often, if not perpetually, surrounded by these vectors. I ask, because I was amazed by how a particular president of such descent effortlessly killed a housefly on his country's national TV. And what's worse. I now have a nagging suspicion that killing the housefly might be the only thing he can do well and nothing much else.
2. With the advancements in technology, email, viruses, malicious computer bugs, trojans and what have you, why is it not possible to screw with a particular northern neighbour's computers so that, instead of official nuclear tests, their uranium enriching facilities simply cause spontaneous fission reactions to occur. This would lay to waste their nuclear talent and effectively stop their illegal activities. So, what are people waiting for? Or is the iron curtain too hard to penetrate...?
3. A recent advertisement on national TV has a few kids spouting irrational wishes such as "In my world, there would be a dinosaur that likes to eat trash so as to keep the ocean clean", "In my world, we can clean the sky so that the sky will always be blue", and "In my world, people would want to save the world." I haven't heard such rubbish for a long time. My vision is simpler: "In my world, you will eat trash so as to keep the ocean clean", "you will be ... (too sadistic to write in words)", and "nobody will want to save the world." Sad to say, my belief of science is that global warming is not our doing. And I don't want to write any more justifications here. It's just wishful thinking to think we can save the world.
4. The AH1N1 virus has mutated. Today's news showed that the strain has mutated and no one knows if the mutatant virus is more deadly. If it is, it would be a big fat slap on the worlds' government. A pandemic is best dealt with by getting as many people infected with the virus as possible. Imagine, when everyone is in the same room waiting to be gifted with the virus, all of them will be getting from the SAME source. If anyone develops severe symptoms, quickly isolate them for treatment. This way you get an upperhand over the virus. Do not allow the virus to spead on its volition. Ah, but these will fall on deaf ears.
Send in the clowns...
Quasi big balls
Tackled the tree top walk today with a PE teacher friend. Here are some facts and true occurrences.
1. We walked a total of 7.6 km, mainly on forest trek, for a 250 m tree top suspension bridge walk. We've decided that a huge amount of persuasion will be required to get us to go there again. For example, a new car park built along the road at about the 2.5 km mark of the trail could be a start.
2. There is a free public carpark for trail visitors so you can park your cars at the start point and then walk your way in. And perhaps have a couple of water coolers and a small toilet/changing room at the car park. The water source and changing room will be well appreciated.
3. Signages at some of the points could be clearer and more pronunced. We had to make a few guesses along the way. And good for me, my sense of direction, even in the forest, served me well.
4. National Parks should consider a one-way hourly bus ride out from the start of the trails to the car park. Folks with jelly legs after traversing the roof top walk would really appreciate the gesture.
5. There is a steep tarmac-ed part of the trail which precedes the tree top walk. Wow, that was a prelude to jello your legs before your fear of heights do you in on the one-man wide suspension bridge.
Personally:
6, I got abrasions on my palms twisting dry my little towel, which was frequently soaked wet with my sweat. If I don't wring it dry, I can't get it to clean any more sweat off me.
7. My inner thighs are abraded. Man, they hurt when I walk and I had to work around the pain by walking somewhat bow-legged. Thereby, the title of this post.
Perhaps there was too much anticipation and too much expectation from the two of us at the onset of the trip. In the end, we had some sun (fortunately much less than feared) and too much walking. The walk wasn't all that fun, cos there were many up and down slopes and the need to retrace our steps back to the starting point dragged out the experience. The lack of anything really fresh on the way out added to the boredom of the walk.
Durian, rambutan, and jackfruit trees were fruiting like crazy. There were monkeys, squirrels, birds, butterflies, moths, salamanders, and whatever else saw us but we may not have seen them. There were surprisingly few, or no, mosquitoes and bugs.
For people undaunted still, my advice would be as follows:
1. Bring a towel for wiping sweat, especially if you perspire a lot.
2. Dry fit or no go. My dry fit shirt was fine but my cotton bermudas were so laden with sweat midway into the journey, I couldn't wait to get out of them.
3. Bring clothes to change out after the trip. Toilet and changing room or not, you'll appreciate this.
4. Forget the camera or any bags. If you can, travel light.
5. You'll reach the Ranger Station twice (and man, would I love a posting there! One of the guys there had an autographed Timberland boot. Hot!) and each time, use the facilities. Drink some water the first time around and drink up as much as you need before you make your way out. You tend to lose more water out than in, especially if you visit in the morning. The sun simply gets hotter and you sweat more.
6. Don't eat or drink on your walk. The monkeys we saw were observing us for food. I think they are still rather reliant on human offerings (it's illegal to feed them), especially during meal times.
7. Keep an eye for freshly dropped durians. You might just get a free fruit.
Have fun!
1. We walked a total of 7.6 km, mainly on forest trek, for a 250 m tree top suspension bridge walk. We've decided that a huge amount of persuasion will be required to get us to go there again. For example, a new car park built along the road at about the 2.5 km mark of the trail could be a start.
2. There is a free public carpark for trail visitors so you can park your cars at the start point and then walk your way in. And perhaps have a couple of water coolers and a small toilet/changing room at the car park. The water source and changing room will be well appreciated.
3. Signages at some of the points could be clearer and more pronunced. We had to make a few guesses along the way. And good for me, my sense of direction, even in the forest, served me well.
4. National Parks should consider a one-way hourly bus ride out from the start of the trails to the car park. Folks with jelly legs after traversing the roof top walk would really appreciate the gesture.
5. There is a steep tarmac-ed part of the trail which precedes the tree top walk. Wow, that was a prelude to jello your legs before your fear of heights do you in on the one-man wide suspension bridge.
Personally:
6, I got abrasions on my palms twisting dry my little towel, which was frequently soaked wet with my sweat. If I don't wring it dry, I can't get it to clean any more sweat off me.
7. My inner thighs are abraded. Man, they hurt when I walk and I had to work around the pain by walking somewhat bow-legged. Thereby, the title of this post.
Perhaps there was too much anticipation and too much expectation from the two of us at the onset of the trip. In the end, we had some sun (fortunately much less than feared) and too much walking. The walk wasn't all that fun, cos there were many up and down slopes and the need to retrace our steps back to the starting point dragged out the experience. The lack of anything really fresh on the way out added to the boredom of the walk.
Durian, rambutan, and jackfruit trees were fruiting like crazy. There were monkeys, squirrels, birds, butterflies, moths, salamanders, and whatever else saw us but we may not have seen them. There were surprisingly few, or no, mosquitoes and bugs.
For people undaunted still, my advice would be as follows:
1. Bring a towel for wiping sweat, especially if you perspire a lot.
2. Dry fit or no go. My dry fit shirt was fine but my cotton bermudas were so laden with sweat midway into the journey, I couldn't wait to get out of them.
3. Bring clothes to change out after the trip. Toilet and changing room or not, you'll appreciate this.
4. Forget the camera or any bags. If you can, travel light.
5. You'll reach the Ranger Station twice (and man, would I love a posting there! One of the guys there had an autographed Timberland boot. Hot!) and each time, use the facilities. Drink some water the first time around and drink up as much as you need before you make your way out. You tend to lose more water out than in, especially if you visit in the morning. The sun simply gets hotter and you sweat more.
6. Don't eat or drink on your walk. The monkeys we saw were observing us for food. I think they are still rather reliant on human offerings (it's illegal to feed them), especially during meal times.
7. Keep an eye for freshly dropped durians. You might just get a free fruit.
Have fun!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Run and hide!
I can't believe it. I am looking forward to tackling the MacRitchie tree top walk tomorrow.
Watch out, you green trees! This lard lump from Pasir Ris is coming over to trample on you.
Of course, I'm choosing the wimp option. I'm going to take the short cut to the tree top walk. I'll park at Venus Drive and then do the 7 km round trip. Doing a round trip beginning MacRitchie car park will require more than 10 km of walking.
I am not so sure I'm going to make my foot masseurs work that hard on Friday.
Tree top walk, here I come!
Watch out, you green trees! This lard lump from Pasir Ris is coming over to trample on you.
Of course, I'm choosing the wimp option. I'm going to take the short cut to the tree top walk. I'll park at Venus Drive and then do the 7 km round trip. Doing a round trip beginning MacRitchie car park will require more than 10 km of walking.
I am not so sure I'm going to make my foot masseurs work that hard on Friday.
Tree top walk, here I come!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Milestone
I'm about to hit my 1 000th post. In fact, the next post will be my thousandth. To someone who writes on and off, it is not much of a milestone.
My writing habits are erratic, just like the way I think. I see life as a single event with simultaneous occurrences which do not make much sense in general. I'm not an illogical person but I prefer to see it that way.
Another reason for avoiding linear sequencing is to avoid the "blame game." It is often easy to say that we are going to look forward and forget the past but few people actually manage to.
Allow me to share a little story that I've read some time back.
A young Buddhist monk walked with an elder monk on their way back to their temple after several days of travel. On the way, they came to a creek bed, the banks of which had softened to a wet, slushy mess. At the edge of the creek stood an attractive young woman dressed in traditional gowns, who was obviously wanting to cross the water but had no idea how to contend with the mud. If she attempted to traverse it, her legs would surely sink shin-deep into the muck.
As they approached the young lady, the younger monk averted his eyes and looked down, for theirs was a stern discipline, and monks were not allowed to gaze upon a woman, let alone speak to or interact with her, particularly when the woman was as fetching and young as this one. To his horror, however, the older monk walked straight toward the woman and asked her if she needed to cross. The woman shyly said yes, and without another word, he hoisted her piggy-style onto his back and carried the woman across the creek. The younger monk followed them across the creek, stunned. Once on the other side, the woman profusely thanked her new friend, shook his hand, and resumed her journey, disappearing into the trees.
The young man was aghast, but respectful of his elder, he held his tongue. For three hours they walked side by side, all the while the student confused as to how his companion could so flagrantly violate one of the cardinal rules of their temple. The older one had, after all, not only engaged the woman, he had spoken to her, and then not only did he touch her, he carried her on his back! How could such a thing be justified?!
For another hour they walked in total silence, and finally came the point when the young man could stand it no longer. He stepped forward two paces and then whirled on his walking companion to face him in anger. "How could you do that?!" he shouted.
"Do what?" asked the older monk, looking at him.
He rolled his eyes. "It is a sin to touch a woman, a violation to even gaze upon her, and yet you spoke with her. You...you...shook her hand!" He sputtered in his anger. "You carried her across the creek! YOU CARRIED HER!!"
"And you still carry her," said his older friend, smiling the faintest of smiles and bowing slightly. "I left her back at the river."
Many of us carry things in our hearts and to let these things down can be really very hard. However, I had a pleasant surprise at a little gathering recently when a friend reminded me that a colleague actually offended me a lot some time ago and I went, "What? I don't remember. What did he do?" And the friend had to remind me.
This was interesting because I used to think I would forgive but never forget. These days, I am so lazy to even remember. Ok, I admit: I'm finding that taking offense requires too much work. So, I'm just letting a lot of crap slide off my back once the issue is resolved.
And there is another thing I realized. When one is unhappy with the situation, one can either tackle the situation or change one's attitude. I'm leaning more towards the former. If a situation sucks, then work towards changing the situation. No point trying to be the nice guy and tolerate the unreasonable.
Even if it means some toes will have to be chopped off, a diplomatic retaliation is far superior to staying mum about things. I'm past the point where I can tolerate any more nonsense. Like I've blogged before, I am now unwilling to suffer any fools. If my hitting back hurts you, how about YOU change the situation or your attitude for a change? It takes two hands to clap and if you are just out to take advantage of the situation, then you've really got to hope that the person you're messing with have IQ lower than yours. And mostly, I doubt you can find someone like that.
That is why I am eternally thankful to those I call my friends. These are the only people in my life where I'll let them remind me if I need to change my attitude. Hey, these advisors are just about the best people I have in my life and I treasure them a lot.
So, so much is written. But what do I really want? I am wondering if I should begin a new blog or should I carry on over here. It's nice to have an ever growing blog but it gets a little predictable after a while. This is the Aquarius side of me talking - there is nothing I embrace and resist more than change. And let me think about it. Perhaps I might just start another blog.
I'll keep you all informed.
My writing habits are erratic, just like the way I think. I see life as a single event with simultaneous occurrences which do not make much sense in general. I'm not an illogical person but I prefer to see it that way.
Another reason for avoiding linear sequencing is to avoid the "blame game." It is often easy to say that we are going to look forward and forget the past but few people actually manage to.
Allow me to share a little story that I've read some time back.
A young Buddhist monk walked with an elder monk on their way back to their temple after several days of travel. On the way, they came to a creek bed, the banks of which had softened to a wet, slushy mess. At the edge of the creek stood an attractive young woman dressed in traditional gowns, who was obviously wanting to cross the water but had no idea how to contend with the mud. If she attempted to traverse it, her legs would surely sink shin-deep into the muck.
As they approached the young lady, the younger monk averted his eyes and looked down, for theirs was a stern discipline, and monks were not allowed to gaze upon a woman, let alone speak to or interact with her, particularly when the woman was as fetching and young as this one. To his horror, however, the older monk walked straight toward the woman and asked her if she needed to cross. The woman shyly said yes, and without another word, he hoisted her piggy-style onto his back and carried the woman across the creek. The younger monk followed them across the creek, stunned. Once on the other side, the woman profusely thanked her new friend, shook his hand, and resumed her journey, disappearing into the trees.
The young man was aghast, but respectful of his elder, he held his tongue. For three hours they walked side by side, all the while the student confused as to how his companion could so flagrantly violate one of the cardinal rules of their temple. The older one had, after all, not only engaged the woman, he had spoken to her, and then not only did he touch her, he carried her on his back! How could such a thing be justified?!
For another hour they walked in total silence, and finally came the point when the young man could stand it no longer. He stepped forward two paces and then whirled on his walking companion to face him in anger. "How could you do that?!" he shouted.
"Do what?" asked the older monk, looking at him.
He rolled his eyes. "It is a sin to touch a woman, a violation to even gaze upon her, and yet you spoke with her. You...you...shook her hand!" He sputtered in his anger. "You carried her across the creek! YOU CARRIED HER!!"
"And you still carry her," said his older friend, smiling the faintest of smiles and bowing slightly. "I left her back at the river."
Many of us carry things in our hearts and to let these things down can be really very hard. However, I had a pleasant surprise at a little gathering recently when a friend reminded me that a colleague actually offended me a lot some time ago and I went, "What? I don't remember. What did he do?" And the friend had to remind me.
This was interesting because I used to think I would forgive but never forget. These days, I am so lazy to even remember. Ok, I admit: I'm finding that taking offense requires too much work. So, I'm just letting a lot of crap slide off my back once the issue is resolved.
And there is another thing I realized. When one is unhappy with the situation, one can either tackle the situation or change one's attitude. I'm leaning more towards the former. If a situation sucks, then work towards changing the situation. No point trying to be the nice guy and tolerate the unreasonable.
Even if it means some toes will have to be chopped off, a diplomatic retaliation is far superior to staying mum about things. I'm past the point where I can tolerate any more nonsense. Like I've blogged before, I am now unwilling to suffer any fools. If my hitting back hurts you, how about YOU change the situation or your attitude for a change? It takes two hands to clap and if you are just out to take advantage of the situation, then you've really got to hope that the person you're messing with have IQ lower than yours. And mostly, I doubt you can find someone like that.
That is why I am eternally thankful to those I call my friends. These are the only people in my life where I'll let them remind me if I need to change my attitude. Hey, these advisors are just about the best people I have in my life and I treasure them a lot.
So, so much is written. But what do I really want? I am wondering if I should begin a new blog or should I carry on over here. It's nice to have an ever growing blog but it gets a little predictable after a while. This is the Aquarius side of me talking - there is nothing I embrace and resist more than change. And let me think about it. Perhaps I might just start another blog.
I'll keep you all informed.
Yay! There's a pandemic!
Yeah, what's wrong with it?
Flu pandemics are part and parcel of evolution. It's nature's way of cleaning out the gene pool.
Take it easy. Stay clean and be hygienic. If you're genetically endowed to survive this, you will. Otherwise, you'll face extinction.
It is life. C'est la vie.
Live life as per normal and stay illness free. Get enough rest and don't over-exert yourself unnecessarily. Eat lots of fruits and vegetables. And say your prayers if you have a religion. Otherwise, tell your loved ones how much you love them.
It isn't and won't be the end of the world. When the virus becomes part of future flu vaccines, life will be back to normal. The world will be leaner and nicer. And perhaps less crowded.
Flu pandemics are part and parcel of evolution. It's nature's way of cleaning out the gene pool.
Take it easy. Stay clean and be hygienic. If you're genetically endowed to survive this, you will. Otherwise, you'll face extinction.
It is life. C'est la vie.
Live life as per normal and stay illness free. Get enough rest and don't over-exert yourself unnecessarily. Eat lots of fruits and vegetables. And say your prayers if you have a religion. Otherwise, tell your loved ones how much you love them.
It isn't and won't be the end of the world. When the virus becomes part of future flu vaccines, life will be back to normal. The world will be leaner and nicer. And perhaps less crowded.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Recuperation
It's week 2 of being officially off all work. During this period, I have gone swimming, gone for long walks, cooked up one storm, watched a lot of television, slept a lot.
I guess I'm servicing a debt of some sort. Few people can imagine how tired their bodies are until they can finally take a breather (without money worries). Retirement is way too late. By the time one waits for retirement, one's body is crippled; it is ravaged beyond repair, waiting to be condemned.
I begin to see the wonders of a time out half way into a person's career. Many people wait for something tragic to take stock of their lives. I take stock every day. Especially when you live a somewhat tragic life anyhow.
Ok, I'm a drama-mama but hey, I've a right to live my kind of life. I'm not a pest to society. In fact, I contribute by passing on knowledge. I share my joys and over here, I talk about my life and how things should be lived.
One of the bloggers I read, BHD, talks about his life and each and every one of his blog posts end with some kind of urging to tell people life is short, do something they should or deserve. He is a well-balanced man. Many other people whose blogs I read also have this trait except that they have been unconsciously or subconsciously tacit about it.
Writing a blog is an exercise where one uses or abuses words to restore balance in their lives. Logophiles or wordsmiths, you call them. Just like people swim, paint, dress up, go to high teas or even go for retail therapy, they are doing something that they hope can restore balance in their lives. Some people I know do more than one of those activities.
Alas, there could be adverse effects: some people shop too much, for instance. But such extremes also suggest that these people's lives are much worse than they would admit. Neither would we cut them the slack they need to find a balance. So, in their own time and space, they need to find their means of restoring that balance.
While work and money are important, keeping oneself sane is of a higher priority.
Life is short: Live it like my bud, BHD.
I guess I'm servicing a debt of some sort. Few people can imagine how tired their bodies are until they can finally take a breather (without money worries). Retirement is way too late. By the time one waits for retirement, one's body is crippled; it is ravaged beyond repair, waiting to be condemned.
I begin to see the wonders of a time out half way into a person's career. Many people wait for something tragic to take stock of their lives. I take stock every day. Especially when you live a somewhat tragic life anyhow.
Ok, I'm a drama-mama but hey, I've a right to live my kind of life. I'm not a pest to society. In fact, I contribute by passing on knowledge. I share my joys and over here, I talk about my life and how things should be lived.
One of the bloggers I read, BHD, talks about his life and each and every one of his blog posts end with some kind of urging to tell people life is short, do something they should or deserve. He is a well-balanced man. Many other people whose blogs I read also have this trait except that they have been unconsciously or subconsciously tacit about it.
Writing a blog is an exercise where one uses or abuses words to restore balance in their lives. Logophiles or wordsmiths, you call them. Just like people swim, paint, dress up, go to high teas or even go for retail therapy, they are doing something that they hope can restore balance in their lives. Some people I know do more than one of those activities.
Alas, there could be adverse effects: some people shop too much, for instance. But such extremes also suggest that these people's lives are much worse than they would admit. Neither would we cut them the slack they need to find a balance. So, in their own time and space, they need to find their means of restoring that balance.
While work and money are important, keeping oneself sane is of a higher priority.
Life is short: Live it like my bud, BHD.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Sweet Sour Pork Ribs
An easy piece-y recipe which yielded me excellent success, succulent ribs and an immediate offer to take-away the leftovers by a friend who couldn't decide if she liked the rib or the sweet and sour sauce better. In the end, she cleaned out the container, raw romaine leaf bottom and all, without missing a single drop of the dipping sauce.
Preparation time 20 minutes
Cooking time 20 minutes
1 kg pork ribs cut into 4 cm pieces
1 lime/lemon juiced
Seasoning A (mix together)
1 tablespoon plain flour
1 tablespoon corn flour
1.5 tablespoon soya sauce
1.5 tablespoon oyster sauce
1 large egg
water, if needed
Seasoning B (mix together, when doing step 2 below)
2 tablespoon white sugar (Brown sugar will NOT do.)
1.5 tablespoon Chinese dark vinegar or malt vinegar (chemical "white" vinegar is not good)
2 tablespoon tomato ketchup (Del Monte is recommended for its tartness.)
1. Wash ribs, pat dry and season the ribs with seasoning A. The ribs should be coated with a lush layer of the seasoning. If too dry, add water half a tablespoon at a time. You should not need more than two tablespoons. Season for at least 2 hours. Better, if seasoned overnight.
2. Heat 1 litre of oil in a large wok. When oil is beginning to bubble, add ribs and turn down the fire to medium. Deep fry till golden brown. Do not go high heat all the way or you risk having golden coloured but bloody, undercooked ribs.
3. Remove ribs from oil and drain away the oil and leave about 2 tablespoons in the wok.
4. Add seasoning B to the wok and stir the mixture over a medium flame for about 2 minutes or till it begins to boil and thicken slightly.
5. Add ribs to the boiling mixture and coat them evenly with the sauce. Taste to add more sugar, salt or vinegar if necessary.
6. Add the lime/lemon juice just before turning off the flame.
7. Serve on a few leaves of any leafy salad green, raw. Garnish with parsley and top with a sprinkling of sesame seeds.
This dish is good with rice, or, as a replacement for BBQ ribs at beer chugging sessions.
Preparation time 20 minutes
Cooking time 20 minutes
1 kg pork ribs cut into 4 cm pieces
1 lime/lemon juiced
Seasoning A (mix together)
1 tablespoon plain flour
1 tablespoon corn flour
1.5 tablespoon soya sauce
1.5 tablespoon oyster sauce
1 large egg
water, if needed
Seasoning B (mix together, when doing step 2 below)
2 tablespoon white sugar (Brown sugar will NOT do.)
1.5 tablespoon Chinese dark vinegar or malt vinegar (chemical "white" vinegar is not good)
2 tablespoon tomato ketchup (Del Monte is recommended for its tartness.)
1. Wash ribs, pat dry and season the ribs with seasoning A. The ribs should be coated with a lush layer of the seasoning. If too dry, add water half a tablespoon at a time. You should not need more than two tablespoons. Season for at least 2 hours. Better, if seasoned overnight.
2. Heat 1 litre of oil in a large wok. When oil is beginning to bubble, add ribs and turn down the fire to medium. Deep fry till golden brown. Do not go high heat all the way or you risk having golden coloured but bloody, undercooked ribs.
3. Remove ribs from oil and drain away the oil and leave about 2 tablespoons in the wok.
4. Add seasoning B to the wok and stir the mixture over a medium flame for about 2 minutes or till it begins to boil and thicken slightly.
5. Add ribs to the boiling mixture and coat them evenly with the sauce. Taste to add more sugar, salt or vinegar if necessary.
6. Add the lime/lemon juice just before turning off the flame.
7. Serve on a few leaves of any leafy salad green, raw. Garnish with parsley and top with a sprinkling of sesame seeds.
This dish is good with rice, or, as a replacement for BBQ ribs at beer chugging sessions.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
It hits so suddenly...
I had what seemed like a very bad bout of flu after my Monday morning walk and thinking it was merely muscle aches, went to swim on Tuesday. And right after the swim, I shivered, suffered such bad body aches, headaches and muscle soreness I thought it was the dengue again. But there was no fever. I took painkillers and muscle relaxants and was much better on Wednesday. It felt just so odd.
Air France AF447 (the Cantonese will tell you that 447 means "die die go") simply disappeared after encountering severe turbulence and losing power. Brazilian authorities have confirmed that the plane has crashed.
I bought two pots of thai basil on impulse on Sunday. And a 5 foot Dracaena Massangeana. We had the plants for a song. At least by my standards. Each pot of basil cost me $4 ($5 before bargaining) and the dracaena cane was sold to us for $38 ($48 before). Wow! I had no such luck bargaining for a pot of local rosemary to replace my dead Malaysian ones. Apparently, the rosemary I had bought earlier was from Malaysia and they die in less than a month. Damn!
Never knew sleep can feel so good, especially when you don't have nothing to do the next day. For once, it's fully restful sleep. The last time was when I spent a week in Bangkok, where the first night, I spent 18 hours sleeping. I'm officially servicing my sleep debt. And mark my words - Singapore will soon overtake the Japanese in terms of the number of people dying of overwork (all kinds, including too much gaming and internet-ing).
Freedom.
Air France AF447 (the Cantonese will tell you that 447 means "die die go") simply disappeared after encountering severe turbulence and losing power. Brazilian authorities have confirmed that the plane has crashed.
I bought two pots of thai basil on impulse on Sunday. And a 5 foot Dracaena Massangeana. We had the plants for a song. At least by my standards. Each pot of basil cost me $4 ($5 before bargaining) and the dracaena cane was sold to us for $38 ($48 before). Wow! I had no such luck bargaining for a pot of local rosemary to replace my dead Malaysian ones. Apparently, the rosemary I had bought earlier was from Malaysia and they die in less than a month. Damn!
Never knew sleep can feel so good, especially when you don't have nothing to do the next day. For once, it's fully restful sleep. The last time was when I spent a week in Bangkok, where the first night, I spent 18 hours sleeping. I'm officially servicing my sleep debt. And mark my words - Singapore will soon overtake the Japanese in terms of the number of people dying of overwork (all kinds, including too much gaming and internet-ing).
Freedom.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Finally, a Haven for Ugly Women
Calling your wife ugly to humiliate her may soon be considered an offence under proposed amendments to the Domestic Violence Act 1994. [...]
I wish their plastic surgeons well.
I wish their plastic surgeons well.
National Education Quiz 2: 2000s: Decade of Singaporean Women
Looks like Singaporean women are making news headlines for this decade. The list below consists of women worthy of 'honourable mention'. Can you name the women involved?
1. SARS super spreader [more info]
2. first to be killed in a terror attack [info]
3. first female minister [info]
4. first NGO group whose spat awakened the social consciousness of Singaporeans [info]
5. world's pioneer feminist mentor [info]
6. first team to make succesful Everest summit in first attempt [info]
7. first Swine flu patient [info]
1. SARS super spreader [more info]
2. first to be killed in a terror attack [info]
3. first female minister [info]
4. first NGO group whose spat awakened the social consciousness of Singaporeans [info]
5. world's pioneer feminist mentor [info]
6. first team to make succesful Everest summit in first attempt [info]
7. first Swine flu patient [info]
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Rubbish Rushes in to Fill a Vacuum
Lost Generation by Jonathan Reed
I am part of a lost generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.
And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it .
Read the message, then read it again in reverse.
Which generation do you belong in?
---@---@---
Guess what? As I arrived at work, I saw the lost generation. The latecomers, the stragglers, the lost souls, the headless ghosts, the useless bums, the lazy bones... And there were all made to stand outside the office while the rest went through the passage.
Me? I am part of a lost generation. I will tell you that money will make me happy. More money will make me more happy. Ok, bad English. Still, you get the point.
Happiness comes from within. It can't come from anywhere else. I don't laugh or gloat at others' misery. But having money can make me happy.
I am part of a lost generation. Despite me telling my employers that they are not the most important things in my life, I can't stop working. Because I need money. Remember, money will make me happy.
My family is more important than my work. But they will have to take a back seat. Don't forget, money will make me happy. And money makes them happy too.
I don't believe in spending money to be divorced in 30 years. I can't afford that. So I won't marry and won't have children. This way, my money is all for I, me and myself. And money will make me happy.
Environmental destruction is part of nature. Global warming has to do with the less than perfectly circular orbit of the earth. The hell I care about spending any of my hard earned money on environmentally friendly nonsense. Why should I pay others money and make them happy? I should amass my wealth. After all, money will make me happy. Perhaps I should want to be buried in a dollar bill mache coffin. To be buried in money will make me happy.
I am not apathetic and lethargic; watch my energy levels as I throw myself at money. I already know there is no hope (for the hopeless others). Might as well now work towards getting them to bequeath me their money...
All together now: Money will make me happy.
I am part of a lost generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.
And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it .
Read the message, then read it again in reverse.
Which generation do you belong in?
---@---@---
Guess what? As I arrived at work, I saw the lost generation. The latecomers, the stragglers, the lost souls, the headless ghosts, the useless bums, the lazy bones... And there were all made to stand outside the office while the rest went through the passage.
Me? I am part of a lost generation. I will tell you that money will make me happy. More money will make me more happy. Ok, bad English. Still, you get the point.
Happiness comes from within. It can't come from anywhere else. I don't laugh or gloat at others' misery. But having money can make me happy.
I am part of a lost generation. Despite me telling my employers that they are not the most important things in my life, I can't stop working. Because I need money. Remember, money will make me happy.
My family is more important than my work. But they will have to take a back seat. Don't forget, money will make me happy. And money makes them happy too.
I don't believe in spending money to be divorced in 30 years. I can't afford that. So I won't marry and won't have children. This way, my money is all for I, me and myself. And money will make me happy.
Environmental destruction is part of nature. Global warming has to do with the less than perfectly circular orbit of the earth. The hell I care about spending any of my hard earned money on environmentally friendly nonsense. Why should I pay others money and make them happy? I should amass my wealth. After all, money will make me happy. Perhaps I should want to be buried in a dollar bill mache coffin. To be buried in money will make me happy.
I am not apathetic and lethargic; watch my energy levels as I throw myself at money. I already know there is no hope (for the hopeless others). Might as well now work towards getting them to bequeath me their money...
All together now: Money will make me happy.
Monday, May 25, 2009
True Talent
Just had the time to watch a few of Susan Boyle's youtube video. Then I suddenly realise Josh Groban and her both have caterpillar brows. Of course, that didn't matter.
Susan is really a talented singer. Unfortunately, the overemphasis on looks probably meant that fame eluded her for what she looked like, not what she was able to do.
I believe the same would happen to Greg Pritchard. He's a counter-tenor (or a male soprano).
Still, I think either Susan or Greg can ask a particular someone to eat her heart out. Salah Blightman. Oops, I meant Sarah Brightman.
Susan is really a talented singer. Unfortunately, the overemphasis on looks probably meant that fame eluded her for what she looked like, not what she was able to do.
I believe the same would happen to Greg Pritchard. He's a counter-tenor (or a male soprano).
Still, I think either Susan or Greg can ask a particular someone to eat her heart out. Salah Blightman. Oops, I meant Sarah Brightman.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Hitting Out at the Bus Company
I am a regular commuter on City Hopper 579, one of your supposedly premium services, which you charge an arm and a leg for. I often take the bus often in the afternoons on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. As a premium service, SBS Transit has been able to provide commuters with fixed arrival timings when the bus arrives at specified bus stops. Therefore, despite the much higher charges, I prefer taking 579 from town to Simei MRT, on which I am guaranteed minimal waiting time, convenience and comfort. Having a guaranteed seat on 579 surely beats having to stand all the way from City Hall to Simei on the MRT train.
However, there is nothing premium about this service. One of the biggest drawback of taking 579 is the lack of punctuality in the arrival times (compared to other premium buses like 502, 518, and 578, which also call at the same bus stop). The deviation from the published timing is getting so out of hand that I am compelled to write this feedback.
The deterioration of the punctuality of the service has been gradual but visible. About half a year ago, service 579 often called at the bus stop within 5 minutes of the scheduled arrival times, in the recent two months, the erratic arrival times have been so bad that I now question myself if it is at all sensible to pay $3.10 to take this trip.
Today, for instance, the 1611 h bus arrived at 1630 h. Even though your website suggested that to passengers to "be at the bus stop 5 minutes earlier," past experience of seeing service 579 arrive up to as many as 10 minutes before the scheduled time has taught me a lesson to make my way to the bus stop earlier- I missed that bus because it came way too early. Since then, I made it a point to wait at the bus stop 10 minutes before the scheduled time. Still, there are buses which arrive 7 minutes or so early.
Think about it: If I arrive at the bus stop 10 minutes earlier than the scheduled bus arrival time and I have to wait 20 minutes for the bus because it was late, what SENSE does it make for the commuter who has to wait 30 minutes - despite a clearly stated arrival time for the service - for a 30 minute bus ride from Bras Basah to Simei? A comparable MRT trip would have taken less than the time of either the waiting or the bus trip!
You may also wish to note that only the service levels of bus 579 is way below those of your other premium services such as 518, 578 and 502, and most of your regular services. I know this, because I have been frustrated enough to monitor their arrival times against your prescribed timing for the past months to build my case for my feedback. I am very interested to know why this is, and why SBS transit has allowed it, to be so.
Please do not give me stock replies about road and traffic conditions. Except for extenuating circumstances, such conditions do not vary excessively day to day. Furthermore, the bus spends a good amount of its journey on the expressways, which are almost never congested at the afternoon portions of the day. What I see is simply poor management and oversight by your supervisory staff. Ask your staff why other services can be prompt but 579 can't be.
Do not tell me to use IRIS. The hallmark of a world class bus service is its punctuality. Why do I have to pay money to find out if your buses are going to underperform YET AGAIN? If SBS Transit is able to deliver the goods, people would not even need to rely on IRIS. Many countries I visit do not even have IRIS: What they have a cheap bus services with high frequencies.
Perhaps one incentive for your treasured customers like myself and one way of keeping your company in our good books is to give free rides to passengers if the scheduled premium bus service is more than 5 minutes late. After all, premium services command a price because of their high service levels and should the service fall short, suitable compensation should be made. I certainly don't pay Singapore Airline fares to be treated like a budget airline customer. If you aspire to be a world class transport company, then take a leaf out of SIA's books. If SIA, our truly world class air transport company, were late, they would have served sandwiches and drinks and their front line staff would have been profuse with apologies.
The last thing I need is wait 30 minutes for a bus with already such a low operating frequency and yet cannot keep to its announced arrival time, be faced with a tailgating bus driver who could not see the passenger trying to flag down the bus at the bus stop until it is nearly too late and drive badly, braking too hard because he was tailgating (yet again). Does SBS Transit not assign your better drivers to drive premium services?
Or am I mistaken about 579 being a premium service at all?
However, there is nothing premium about this service. One of the biggest drawback of taking 579 is the lack of punctuality in the arrival times (compared to other premium buses like 502, 518, and 578, which also call at the same bus stop). The deviation from the published timing is getting so out of hand that I am compelled to write this feedback.
The deterioration of the punctuality of the service has been gradual but visible. About half a year ago, service 579 often called at the bus stop within 5 minutes of the scheduled arrival times, in the recent two months, the erratic arrival times have been so bad that I now question myself if it is at all sensible to pay $3.10 to take this trip.
Today, for instance, the 1611 h bus arrived at 1630 h. Even though your website suggested that to passengers to "be at the bus stop 5 minutes earlier," past experience of seeing service 579 arrive up to as many as 10 minutes before the scheduled time has taught me a lesson to make my way to the bus stop earlier- I missed that bus because it came way too early. Since then, I made it a point to wait at the bus stop 10 minutes before the scheduled time. Still, there are buses which arrive 7 minutes or so early.
Think about it: If I arrive at the bus stop 10 minutes earlier than the scheduled bus arrival time and I have to wait 20 minutes for the bus because it was late, what SENSE does it make for the commuter who has to wait 30 minutes - despite a clearly stated arrival time for the service - for a 30 minute bus ride from Bras Basah to Simei? A comparable MRT trip would have taken less than the time of either the waiting or the bus trip!
You may also wish to note that only the service levels of bus 579 is way below those of your other premium services such as 518, 578 and 502, and most of your regular services. I know this, because I have been frustrated enough to monitor their arrival times against your prescribed timing for the past months to build my case for my feedback. I am very interested to know why this is, and why SBS transit has allowed it, to be so.
Please do not give me stock replies about road and traffic conditions. Except for extenuating circumstances, such conditions do not vary excessively day to day. Furthermore, the bus spends a good amount of its journey on the expressways, which are almost never congested at the afternoon portions of the day. What I see is simply poor management and oversight by your supervisory staff. Ask your staff why other services can be prompt but 579 can't be.
Do not tell me to use IRIS. The hallmark of a world class bus service is its punctuality. Why do I have to pay money to find out if your buses are going to underperform YET AGAIN? If SBS Transit is able to deliver the goods, people would not even need to rely on IRIS. Many countries I visit do not even have IRIS: What they have a cheap bus services with high frequencies.
Perhaps one incentive for your treasured customers like myself and one way of keeping your company in our good books is to give free rides to passengers if the scheduled premium bus service is more than 5 minutes late. After all, premium services command a price because of their high service levels and should the service fall short, suitable compensation should be made. I certainly don't pay Singapore Airline fares to be treated like a budget airline customer. If you aspire to be a world class transport company, then take a leaf out of SIA's books. If SIA, our truly world class air transport company, were late, they would have served sandwiches and drinks and their front line staff would have been profuse with apologies.
The last thing I need is wait 30 minutes for a bus with already such a low operating frequency and yet cannot keep to its announced arrival time, be faced with a tailgating bus driver who could not see the passenger trying to flag down the bus at the bus stop until it is nearly too late and drive badly, braking too hard because he was tailgating (yet again). Does SBS Transit not assign your better drivers to drive premium services?
Or am I mistaken about 579 being a premium service at all?
Relief Duties
Had to stand in for a colleague today for a particular time slot.
But, as luck would have it, the note requesting my assistance carried the wrong time slot.
Received a call nearing the end of the correct time period questioning me why I wasn't in class during my supposed time slot. Then I reminded and then shown the folks why I wasn't in class. So, case closed.
Honestly, I may hate doing relief duties but I won't skive or shirk from such duties. Still, I wish all other relief duties were like this one.
But, as luck would have it, the note requesting my assistance carried the wrong time slot.
Received a call nearing the end of the correct time period questioning me why I wasn't in class during my supposed time slot. Then I reminded and then shown the folks why I wasn't in class. So, case closed.
Honestly, I may hate doing relief duties but I won't skive or shirk from such duties. Still, I wish all other relief duties were like this one.
Broken Bow(l)
Well, the title was really a pun on one of my favourite songs, "Broken Vow," by David Foster and Josh Groban.
But broken bowl caused me some grief, indeed, last night.
I had steamed rice in a stoneware bowl in a Chinese wok. When I was about to serve dinner, I tried to retrieve the bowl with a pair of calipers typically used by restaurants to take out hot crockery from ovens or steamers. So as I crimped the calipers on the side and tried to remove the bowl out of the wok, the bowl broke.
I am not sure if the bowl slipped, hit against the wok and broke, or if the bowl fractured, slipped and hit against the wok. However, not that it might matter that much. The combined weight of the bowl and the rice and the resulting force caused by the dropping of the bown of rice tipped the contents of the wok - hot water - right down my thighs and the top of my feet. I had just turned the fire off from steaming the rice some 20 minutes before, so the heat was pretty high still.
I dropped everything, went straight to the bathroom and hosed scalded trotters under running water.
A while later, I re-emerged and cleaned up the mess. The broken pieces were picked up and thrown away, the rice tossed into the bin and I clean the floor for stoneware fragments. There were extremely sharp shrapnel, which I managed to pick up.
Right after, I slathered my burnt legs and feet with some cream and had dinner.
Despite the pain last night, I believe the burns were mostly first degree. By this morning, most of the pain is gone and I'm back.
What an evening!
But broken bowl caused me some grief, indeed, last night.
I had steamed rice in a stoneware bowl in a Chinese wok. When I was about to serve dinner, I tried to retrieve the bowl with a pair of calipers typically used by restaurants to take out hot crockery from ovens or steamers. So as I crimped the calipers on the side and tried to remove the bowl out of the wok, the bowl broke.
I am not sure if the bowl slipped, hit against the wok and broke, or if the bowl fractured, slipped and hit against the wok. However, not that it might matter that much. The combined weight of the bowl and the rice and the resulting force caused by the dropping of the bown of rice tipped the contents of the wok - hot water - right down my thighs and the top of my feet. I had just turned the fire off from steaming the rice some 20 minutes before, so the heat was pretty high still.
I dropped everything, went straight to the bathroom and hosed scalded trotters under running water.
A while later, I re-emerged and cleaned up the mess. The broken pieces were picked up and thrown away, the rice tossed into the bin and I clean the floor for stoneware fragments. There were extremely sharp shrapnel, which I managed to pick up.
Right after, I slathered my burnt legs and feet with some cream and had dinner.
Despite the pain last night, I believe the burns were mostly first degree. By this morning, most of the pain is gone and I'm back.
What an evening!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Ahini and Mongoloids
It's a chore calling it Influenza A (H1N1). I think calling it Ahini is easier. Anyway, the critical information is not lost while rewriting it as a word in Tahiti. (Ok, I jest.)
Anyway, I wonder if Ahini spreads more easily among those with a significant amount of mongoloid genes. My biology's screwed, so if someone can make better sense of this, feel free to suggest how I can rewrite. But what I mean is this: Look at how the virus is human-hopping in Japan. The Japanese are mostly characterised by their mongoloid slitty eyes. So, if we were to genetically profile all the folks who were infected with Ahini and those who have died after infection, we might really discover a group of people who are more susceptible to Ahini than other groups.
This way, we can selectively vaccinate the more vulnerable group (or, conversely, not vaccinate, if we want to do gene pool cleansing of some sort) and help them stave off the virus.
Just a thought. But with all shots in the dark, is a gene test so hard?
Anyway, I wonder if Ahini spreads more easily among those with a significant amount of mongoloid genes. My biology's screwed, so if someone can make better sense of this, feel free to suggest how I can rewrite. But what I mean is this: Look at how the virus is human-hopping in Japan. The Japanese are mostly characterised by their mongoloid slitty eyes. So, if we were to genetically profile all the folks who were infected with Ahini and those who have died after infection, we might really discover a group of people who are more susceptible to Ahini than other groups.
This way, we can selectively vaccinate the more vulnerable group (or, conversely, not vaccinate, if we want to do gene pool cleansing of some sort) and help them stave off the virus.
Just a thought. But with all shots in the dark, is a gene test so hard?
Wounded dignity is a powerful emotion
Of course, such a gem of an observation can only come from the ever-ascerbic and highly (if not already mostest) cynical Probligo.
Before I get an eyeful in my email, this is a compliment, my dear man. Remember, you are only supposed to sit beside me if you have nothing good to say!
Why, Probligo hit the nail right on the head with this astute observation. But feeling the pain of an wounded dignity is where the lesson ends for many people. Few people would bother to heal the dignity and learn how to avoid further injuries. Of course, another way is to develop a callous around one's dignity till one can laugh off any attempts to turn one into the butt of another's joke. "That's seen to say," one has "learlly" got to be impervious to such insults. "In another words," one decides never to learn.
Oh, by the way, I thought OKE would have added to the list and admonish me for missing out the still infamous "That's seen to say" from my earlier entry. But no, he asked me a question, which, together with Probligo's observation, inspired this entry.
What does one do when one's dignity is wounded, especially academically? One improves oneself through (i) identifying where one has gone wrong, (ii) find out what is the correct way of doing things, and (iii) consciously and persistently make adjustments to correct one's errant ways.
So, what does one read to improve one's English? The answer is already given by Probligo. I've a simpler answer: Anything.
Anything written in proper English is good for reading and learning. Even reading something as simple as Winnie the Pooh helps the reader understand how simple sentences can be effective. Reading more advanced books and articles help one understand how to use phrases and sentences effectively to convey complex and complicated ideas.
Reading is a complex activity. It is not just about taking in the words. It is much much more than that. Probligo has pointed out that people should read for grammar, sentence structure and so on. One should also question diction (word choice, word placement, punctuation) and larger issues such as cohesion and coherence. Idea placement can also determine the emphasis of each sentence and tell the readers about the author's intent and perspective. There are so much that one can glean from even a simple piece of writing.
One common reply I used to get as a bureaucrat is "Ministry X has no objections." When we first write an email to Ministry X, we often ask for their input and often, if they are agreeable with the position that has been set out. One should ask why Ministry X replies with "no objections" rather than "is agreeable" or "supports" etc. Why is it "no objections?"
When we write, why do we choose to front certain ideas while downplaying other ideas? Think of the effects when we write
Singapore's economy shrank 15% in Q1 2009. The figures are smaller than what analysts have predicted, suggesting that the economic downturn may have bottomed out.
vs
Singapore's economy may have bottomed out. Official figures point to a 15% contraction, out-performing the predictions by market watchers and analysts.
While the content is largely similar, writing the first way will shock many people because 15% seems significant. But when you frame it in the second way, people will see 15% as being not as severe. So when you read, you have lots of questions to ask yourself.
By and large, what the Singapore education system needs to incorporate at A levels is to introduce critical reading as a skill. Critical reading has to be explicitly taught. As we are not native EL speakers, we do not get the finer points in writing. Nuances are lost on many of us. We need to learn why people write in certain ways and therefore pick up those writing skills too. That way, we improve our writing.
And no, Probligo. I can't teach 8 to 10 year olds. I'll die before I finish a class. Those mistakes were made by 13 year olds. And I have no intention of ever going back to teaching secondary school English ever again. I'm traumatized enough already.
Before I get an eyeful in my email, this is a compliment, my dear man. Remember, you are only supposed to sit beside me if you have nothing good to say!
Why, Probligo hit the nail right on the head with this astute observation. But feeling the pain of an wounded dignity is where the lesson ends for many people. Few people would bother to heal the dignity and learn how to avoid further injuries. Of course, another way is to develop a callous around one's dignity till one can laugh off any attempts to turn one into the butt of another's joke. "That's seen to say," one has "learlly" got to be impervious to such insults. "In another words," one decides never to learn.
Oh, by the way, I thought OKE would have added to the list and admonish me for missing out the still infamous "That's seen to say" from my earlier entry. But no, he asked me a question, which, together with Probligo's observation, inspired this entry.
What does one do when one's dignity is wounded, especially academically? One improves oneself through (i) identifying where one has gone wrong, (ii) find out what is the correct way of doing things, and (iii) consciously and persistently make adjustments to correct one's errant ways.
So, what does one read to improve one's English? The answer is already given by Probligo. I've a simpler answer: Anything.
Anything written in proper English is good for reading and learning. Even reading something as simple as Winnie the Pooh helps the reader understand how simple sentences can be effective. Reading more advanced books and articles help one understand how to use phrases and sentences effectively to convey complex and complicated ideas.
Reading is a complex activity. It is not just about taking in the words. It is much much more than that. Probligo has pointed out that people should read for grammar, sentence structure and so on. One should also question diction (word choice, word placement, punctuation) and larger issues such as cohesion and coherence. Idea placement can also determine the emphasis of each sentence and tell the readers about the author's intent and perspective. There are so much that one can glean from even a simple piece of writing.
One common reply I used to get as a bureaucrat is "Ministry X has no objections." When we first write an email to Ministry X, we often ask for their input and often, if they are agreeable with the position that has been set out. One should ask why Ministry X replies with "no objections" rather than "is agreeable" or "supports" etc. Why is it "no objections?"
When we write, why do we choose to front certain ideas while downplaying other ideas? Think of the effects when we write
Singapore's economy shrank 15% in Q1 2009. The figures are smaller than what analysts have predicted, suggesting that the economic downturn may have bottomed out.
vs
Singapore's economy may have bottomed out. Official figures point to a 15% contraction, out-performing the predictions by market watchers and analysts.
While the content is largely similar, writing the first way will shock many people because 15% seems significant. But when you frame it in the second way, people will see 15% as being not as severe. So when you read, you have lots of questions to ask yourself.
By and large, what the Singapore education system needs to incorporate at A levels is to introduce critical reading as a skill. Critical reading has to be explicitly taught. As we are not native EL speakers, we do not get the finer points in writing. Nuances are lost on many of us. We need to learn why people write in certain ways and therefore pick up those writing skills too. That way, we improve our writing.
And no, Probligo. I can't teach 8 to 10 year olds. I'll die before I finish a class. Those mistakes were made by 13 year olds. And I have no intention of ever going back to teaching secondary school English ever again. I'm traumatized enough already.
Singapore Women Did It
Just so you are aware, they managed to do what Josie Lau and gang failed. A group of three Singapore women became the first women from Singapore to reach Everest's summit. Poor Josie and co were unceremoniously yanked off the queer, crooked, treacherous slopes of Mount Awarest while Thio Su Mien added more wind, ice and nothing nice to the slopes.
Looking at their success, it seems like the women have had better luck than the men. The first detachment reached the top in what looked like glorious weather. And the news-woman last night was still saying that they were "somewhat disappointed that the view was not as good as they had expected." Eh, at 8 848m, what were you expecting? Prada shops or a spa?
Oh, but I got ahead of myself - there is indeed an ice spa up there. You fall off the cliffs and then you get frozen in the permafrost up there. You will be an exhibit up the Mount Everest Museum of Eternity as long as the ice doesn't melt.
So exciting, right? Now the second detachment will be making the attempt tomorrow. Let's wish them the best. Maybe some people should go climb Everest too. Then she can come back and say, "I am an Everest mentor. I have reached Everest's summit; what is AWARE?"
Ok, time to shut up and sit down, relack one corner...
Looking at their success, it seems like the women have had better luck than the men. The first detachment reached the top in what looked like glorious weather. And the news-woman last night was still saying that they were "somewhat disappointed that the view was not as good as they had expected." Eh, at 8 848m, what were you expecting? Prada shops or a spa?
Oh, but I got ahead of myself - there is indeed an ice spa up there. You fall off the cliffs and then you get frozen in the permafrost up there. You will be an exhibit up the Mount Everest Museum of Eternity as long as the ice doesn't melt.
So exciting, right? Now the second detachment will be making the attempt tomorrow. Let's wish them the best. Maybe some people should go climb Everest too. Then she can come back and say, "I am an Everest mentor. I have reached Everest's summit; what is AWARE?"
Ok, time to shut up and sit down, relack one corner...
Swing Votes and Lea Salonga
While watching American Idol last night, I could not help but wonder if Adam Lambert was really going to win it. I'd be terribly disappointed if he did. Yeah, he was the consummate show man but he would have made it big in Broadway or the West End, with or without Idol.
And it as he was belting out yet another song, with his fat tongue covering most of his face, I realised who he resembled. I finally put my finger on the artiste. Filipino musico-drama-mama Lea Salonga! Adam Lambert is the male version of Lea Salonga. If you don't believe me, just you wait. When one day Lambert cross dresses and takes on the role of Kim in Miss Saigon, tell me if you know the difference.
Of course, when Danny Gokey was kicked out last week, I was pretty disappointed. But as the news folks predicted, the votes swung to Chris Allen. And rightly so. I also agree with the folks on why Simon hadn't been as harsh on drama-tics this time around. I always thought he was not so much into showmanship and over-the-top antics but he seemed really tolerant of Adam Lambert this time around. I wonder why.
And, oh yeah. Did you realise new lines on Ryan Seacrest's face? Man, that guy aged, didn't he? Was it so darn long already?
And it as he was belting out yet another song, with his fat tongue covering most of his face, I realised who he resembled. I finally put my finger on the artiste. Filipino musico-drama-mama Lea Salonga! Adam Lambert is the male version of Lea Salonga. If you don't believe me, just you wait. When one day Lambert cross dresses and takes on the role of Kim in Miss Saigon, tell me if you know the difference.
Of course, when Danny Gokey was kicked out last week, I was pretty disappointed. But as the news folks predicted, the votes swung to Chris Allen. And rightly so. I also agree with the folks on why Simon hadn't been as harsh on drama-tics this time around. I always thought he was not so much into showmanship and over-the-top antics but he seemed really tolerant of Adam Lambert this time around. I wonder why.
And, oh yeah. Did you realise new lines on Ryan Seacrest's face? Man, that guy aged, didn't he? Was it so darn long already?
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
What's wrong?
Another exam season and another big hullalaboo about teachers posting students' bloopers on the teachers' webpages for public entertainment. What's wrong with this, as long as the teacher does not single out the student? After all, these are the usual bloopers we see year in year out. And didn't we most enjoy the NG sequences at the end of each movie? Why do we have double standards here?
I mean, anyone could have written "My grandmother was diagnosed with cologne cancer." And what's wrong with that? A spelling mistake is a spelling mistake. Some of these boo-boos actually become actual materials, which are used for teaching future teachers.
Some times, how you speak is how you write. That's why apart from small eyes and a flat nose, a man can have a "pork belly". If anything at all, teachers can reflect if they had been unclear or sloppy in speech. After all, many students spell by approximating perceived sounds. This is especially evident in how a student tried to learn how to "trap water."
Some times, the students themselves are at fault. That was also why for the longest time when I was teaching English, I had compositions that went, "Human beans are...," despite my constant reminding that it is "beings." Some students simply take a much longer time to learn, I guess.
And my then-principal, who speaks with a perceptible lisp since she had come from a foreign land, gave me even more grief when her "in another words" got repeated ad naseum in my students' writing, as they "learly" (another one of her mispronunciations) thought what she said was right. It took me long battles and many bouts of unofficial speech belittling to get the students back on track.
I still remember one particularly dense student who kept writing Emerald Teo for Admiral Teo because that particular cohort of kids was doing The Wizard of Oz for literature. She simply could not tell the difference between the rank and the rock. So homonyms often become a source of jokes in themselves. How else can you explain how one can get "cologne cancer"? Ok, granted that using too much artificial fragrances could land you in such trouble, but unless you are one of those super-duper well to do rich tai tais whose main aim is to outsmell the roses, how can anyone be so bedevilled?
Idiosyncratic phrasal verbs are another area where mistakes can be plentiful. The unknowing child could easily end up writing "night has fallen and the lamp posts are turned on..." Linguistic nuances are often lost on non-native speakers. This is similar to how the oddity of "is" vs "have" in French: "Je suis chaud" (literally: I am hot) and "j'ai chaud" (I have hot) respectively mean "I am horny" and "I am hot" in French.
Man, why wouldn't people face it that the best way to learn is to make the mistake, face the ignominy of it and put in the effort to correct it?
I mean, anyone could have written "My grandmother was diagnosed with cologne cancer." And what's wrong with that? A spelling mistake is a spelling mistake. Some of these boo-boos actually become actual materials, which are used for teaching future teachers.
Some times, how you speak is how you write. That's why apart from small eyes and a flat nose, a man can have a "pork belly". If anything at all, teachers can reflect if they had been unclear or sloppy in speech. After all, many students spell by approximating perceived sounds. This is especially evident in how a student tried to learn how to "trap water."
Some times, the students themselves are at fault. That was also why for the longest time when I was teaching English, I had compositions that went, "Human beans are...," despite my constant reminding that it is "beings." Some students simply take a much longer time to learn, I guess.
And my then-principal, who speaks with a perceptible lisp since she had come from a foreign land, gave me even more grief when her "in another words" got repeated ad naseum in my students' writing, as they "learly" (another one of her mispronunciations) thought what she said was right. It took me long battles and many bouts of unofficial speech belittling to get the students back on track.
I still remember one particularly dense student who kept writing Emerald Teo for Admiral Teo because that particular cohort of kids was doing The Wizard of Oz for literature. She simply could not tell the difference between the rank and the rock. So homonyms often become a source of jokes in themselves. How else can you explain how one can get "cologne cancer"? Ok, granted that using too much artificial fragrances could land you in such trouble, but unless you are one of those super-duper well to do rich tai tais whose main aim is to outsmell the roses, how can anyone be so bedevilled?
Idiosyncratic phrasal verbs are another area where mistakes can be plentiful. The unknowing child could easily end up writing "night has fallen and the lamp posts are turned on..." Linguistic nuances are often lost on non-native speakers. This is similar to how the oddity of "is" vs "have" in French: "Je suis chaud" (literally: I am hot) and "j'ai chaud" (I have hot) respectively mean "I am horny" and "I am hot" in French.
Man, why wouldn't people face it that the best way to learn is to make the mistake, face the ignominy of it and put in the effort to correct it?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
On Female Equality and a Response to The Probligo
I have this thought: If there weren't that many free women (probably from not having to work because their husbands bring home the bread, bacon and cheese!) around, there wouldn't be a feminist movement. With most things in the world, it is the mind of an idle person who can think of all the nonsense. Of course, I am most likely wrong and I shouldn't have digressed but I am glad I did.
If I ask around today, I might be able to get a good number of people to agree that feminism is now becoming a dirty word. I have no doubts that the feminist movement started out with a noble aim - fighting for equality for women - but one suspects the feminist cause to be perverted by radical women pushing for hardcore femini-jihadism these days. I don't think such firebrand feminists have many supporters or sympathisers - this could explain why Dr Thio Su Mien did not get the support she had expected from the women despite playing the gender card. Thus, such extremists probably exist and operate covertly.
Equality for women should be the expected default position in any society. In a meritocractic society especially, an woman and a man with equal qualities should be viewed, appraised and rewarded equally. Unfortunately, equality is an ideal and with all ideals, they are elusive and largely unachievable.
I am not arguing that we should let the imbalance or inequality continue but unless something can be done about the innate qualities of the two sexes, there is little to argue here. For one, men can't bear children. Trust me, if men could, many of them probably wouldn't want wives.
Where I come from, the laws are vehemently anti-men. Get a divorce under the Women's Charter and see what happens to the man. The Women's Charter might as well be called the anti-Men Charter. If women and men are indeed placed on equal footing, then why is it that women (notice I do not call them the fairer sex) are still hiding behind the charter? Our female population is better educated than the male population!
Our laws are highly punitive of men who beat their wives. The irony is, the number of women involved in spousal battery and abuse is now catching up. So, why haven't the laws changed? We still can't hang female murderers, kidnappers and drug smugglers. Why the special treatment? Are women less vicious when they kill?
Pregnancy-based discrimination could be rife in the past but to try to engage in that now could bring about dire consequences for the company. No doubt, credit goes to the feminist movement. Equal credit should go to the company who is able to tolerate such nonsense. What happens when the pregnant woman go on maternity leave? Who takes over the work and gets it done? Either the men or other women. So why shouldn't the men or other non-childbearing women be paid more? If that is the case, then where is the equality? Men also want to have their own babies and go on 6 months' worth of maternity leave! At least I know I would want to. But can I?
For crying out loud, I can't even adopt a child because I am a man. And what makes the law think that "mothering" instincts come (more) naturally to women? Some women I know of shouldn't even have uteruses, much less kids!
I believe Singapore women have shown great restraint and maturity in not falling for the feminist mentor's rubbish. I believe Singapore workers - men and women - know the limitations of each sex and have found some form of tolerable balance so that both sexes can coexist without much trouble.
I should think that for many people, gone are the days of the bra-burning feminists, just like the Communists (in Singapore). I am all for supporting female equality but if any woman tries to play the feminist card and gets whiplashed because of her radical ideas, then I have no sympathy for her.
For a start, if we were to review most of the existing systems to give women an equal footing, there is no guarantee that the women are not going to lose more than they gain. A smart feminist would therefore be well-served to count her spoils and blessings instead undermining the efforts of the earlier "suffragettes" (Dictionary.com tsk-tsked me and said I should use "suffragist" as the term suffragette is often considered demeaning) and "equalists" through crowing and scratching senselessly.
If I ask around today, I might be able to get a good number of people to agree that feminism is now becoming a dirty word. I have no doubts that the feminist movement started out with a noble aim - fighting for equality for women - but one suspects the feminist cause to be perverted by radical women pushing for hardcore femini-jihadism these days. I don't think such firebrand feminists have many supporters or sympathisers - this could explain why Dr Thio Su Mien did not get the support she had expected from the women despite playing the gender card. Thus, such extremists probably exist and operate covertly.
Equality for women should be the expected default position in any society. In a meritocractic society especially, an woman and a man with equal qualities should be viewed, appraised and rewarded equally. Unfortunately, equality is an ideal and with all ideals, they are elusive and largely unachievable.
I am not arguing that we should let the imbalance or inequality continue but unless something can be done about the innate qualities of the two sexes, there is little to argue here. For one, men can't bear children. Trust me, if men could, many of them probably wouldn't want wives.
Where I come from, the laws are vehemently anti-men. Get a divorce under the Women's Charter and see what happens to the man. The Women's Charter might as well be called the anti-Men Charter. If women and men are indeed placed on equal footing, then why is it that women (notice I do not call them the fairer sex) are still hiding behind the charter? Our female population is better educated than the male population!
Our laws are highly punitive of men who beat their wives. The irony is, the number of women involved in spousal battery and abuse is now catching up. So, why haven't the laws changed? We still can't hang female murderers, kidnappers and drug smugglers. Why the special treatment? Are women less vicious when they kill?
Pregnancy-based discrimination could be rife in the past but to try to engage in that now could bring about dire consequences for the company. No doubt, credit goes to the feminist movement. Equal credit should go to the company who is able to tolerate such nonsense. What happens when the pregnant woman go on maternity leave? Who takes over the work and gets it done? Either the men or other women. So why shouldn't the men or other non-childbearing women be paid more? If that is the case, then where is the equality? Men also want to have their own babies and go on 6 months' worth of maternity leave! At least I know I would want to. But can I?
For crying out loud, I can't even adopt a child because I am a man. And what makes the law think that "mothering" instincts come (more) naturally to women? Some women I know of shouldn't even have uteruses, much less kids!
I believe Singapore women have shown great restraint and maturity in not falling for the feminist mentor's rubbish. I believe Singapore workers - men and women - know the limitations of each sex and have found some form of tolerable balance so that both sexes can coexist without much trouble.
I should think that for many people, gone are the days of the bra-burning feminists, just like the Communists (in Singapore). I am all for supporting female equality but if any woman tries to play the feminist card and gets whiplashed because of her radical ideas, then I have no sympathy for her.
For a start, if we were to review most of the existing systems to give women an equal footing, there is no guarantee that the women are not going to lose more than they gain. A smart feminist would therefore be well-served to count her spoils and blessings instead undermining the efforts of the earlier "suffragettes" (Dictionary.com tsk-tsked me and said I should use "suffragist" as the term suffragette is often considered demeaning) and "equalists" through crowing and scratching senselessly.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Mentors
Everyone wants to be a mentor these days. Must be because we have one in the cabinet. To tell the truth, my eyes nearly popped out when I saw this old woman claiming that she's a feminist mentor. Then as I eyed her picture more closely, I wonder what she was talking about or if she knew what she was talking about.
What is, by her definition, a feminist? Is a feminist liberated? If so, why wear any bras? Burn them. Or is a feminist someone stuck in the past? Where, then, is her Victorian corset? Or is a feminist someone who should behave in a female kind of way by virtue of her gender? Oh, but then her place would be the kitchen, where she slogs over her pots and pots of curries to serve tok panjang to her guests. Or is a feminist someone who simply stands out and say "I'm a feminist" and becomes one?
What is feminism all about? What does feminism claim to do for the women? To the radical feminists, is God man or woman? Why not take on the Vatican and insist on a Popess or some sacred feminine? Is feminism about women thumbing down women? The Devil Wears Prada comes to mind where we see how women take on and take down other women to make top bitch. Or is feminism about a prescriptive set of rules dictating what a woman should or should not do? Perhaps women should really start dressing like women. Why didn't Thio Su Mien raise a ruckus at Hong Lim Park over the S Factor? Shouldn't she take offence at almost everything, if not everything, in the show? Where is she in defending the prostitutes in Singapore?
What makes her worthy of being called a mentor? Is it because she was the first female law dean and was "on page 73"? What does she mentor? Just because she goes around "teaching" and hears some confused voices, is that sufficient for her to conclude that the state of affairs are in a mess? What women want is their business. They can be lesbians or unwed mothers or multi-abortionists. Who the hell cares? Who is anyone to impose their values and standards on others? You are not them, so how do you know what has happened to them or why they are in the job they are doing?
I cannot help but wonder if being a mentor is so glamourous that people clamour for it. Maybe I should be a mentor too...
What is, by her definition, a feminist? Is a feminist liberated? If so, why wear any bras? Burn them. Or is a feminist someone stuck in the past? Where, then, is her Victorian corset? Or is a feminist someone who should behave in a female kind of way by virtue of her gender? Oh, but then her place would be the kitchen, where she slogs over her pots and pots of curries to serve tok panjang to her guests. Or is a feminist someone who simply stands out and say "I'm a feminist" and becomes one?
What is feminism all about? What does feminism claim to do for the women? To the radical feminists, is God man or woman? Why not take on the Vatican and insist on a Popess or some sacred feminine? Is feminism about women thumbing down women? The Devil Wears Prada comes to mind where we see how women take on and take down other women to make top bitch. Or is feminism about a prescriptive set of rules dictating what a woman should or should not do? Perhaps women should really start dressing like women. Why didn't Thio Su Mien raise a ruckus at Hong Lim Park over the S Factor? Shouldn't she take offence at almost everything, if not everything, in the show? Where is she in defending the prostitutes in Singapore?
What makes her worthy of being called a mentor? Is it because she was the first female law dean and was "on page 73"? What does she mentor? Just because she goes around "teaching" and hears some confused voices, is that sufficient for her to conclude that the state of affairs are in a mess? What women want is their business. They can be lesbians or unwed mothers or multi-abortionists. Who the hell cares? Who is anyone to impose their values and standards on others? You are not them, so how do you know what has happened to them or why they are in the job they are doing?
I cannot help but wonder if being a mentor is so glamourous that people clamour for it. Maybe I should be a mentor too...
Welcome to Singapore
I'm sure some of us are waiting with open arms to have Mas Selamat back in our jails. I'm sure some people would have rolled out the red carpet when his convoy arrives. Alas, it's too late to save their careers?
Mas, Selamat Datang Ke Singapura. Balik rumah, bagus eh?
(Mas, welcome to Singapore. Good to come home, no?)
But, honestly, the Mas Flu fatigue has set in. I hardly saw any enthusiasm today about his capture. No one even cares. Have we become complacent or apathetic? Perhaps both.
Perhaps the peacetime (A)war(E) at Suntec is more exciting that capturing an almost impotent terrorist...
Mas, Selamat Datang Ke Singapura. Balik rumah, bagus eh?
(Mas, welcome to Singapore. Good to come home, no?)
But, honestly, the Mas Flu fatigue has set in. I hardly saw any enthusiasm today about his capture. No one even cares. Have we become complacent or apathetic? Perhaps both.
Perhaps the peacetime (A)war(E) at Suntec is more exciting that capturing an almost impotent terrorist...
Table Tennis and Pocket Billiards
Are times and ties so bad that the former table tennis coached who guided the Singapore paddlers to an Olympic silver last August can't be given a Coach of the Year award although he is now serving elsewhere?
Bring out your magnanimity and your sense of meritocracy. If the guy has done good, he deserves to be duly rewarded. Or do the folks deciding on the nominations and awards have minds as small as the table tennis table (as compared to the real life sized tennis courts)?
Oh, why am I writing all these? The holier-than-thou will always feel they are on their moral high grounds and look down at and on others who are different from them.
I should just shut up and sit down. And while I relax in my corner, perhaps I shall play some...
Bring out your magnanimity and your sense of meritocracy. If the guy has done good, he deserves to be duly rewarded. Or do the folks deciding on the nominations and awards have minds as small as the table tennis table (as compared to the real life sized tennis courts)?
Oh, why am I writing all these? The holier-than-thou will always feel they are on their moral high grounds and look down at and on others who are different from them.
I should just shut up and sit down. And while I relax in my corner, perhaps I shall play some...
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Famous Singaporean Female Words...
National Education Quiz
Which infamous Singaporean woman said that?
Level 1 (Basic)
1. Shut up and sit down.
2. Respect your elders.
3. Get out of my elite uncaring face.
Level 2 (Intermediate)
4. I know nothing about this press conference.
5. The Old Guard has had their field day giving the media stories upon stories and info which are totally and utterly inaccurate, so this is our chance to talk to the media.
Level 3 (Advanced)
6. Respect is earned.
End
Check your answers:
(1) AWARE ex-Honorary Treasurer Sally Ang
(2) AWARE ex-Feminist Mentor Dr Thio Su Mien
(3) Wee Shu Min
(4) AWARE ex-Assistant Honarary Treasuere Chew I-Jin
(5) AWARE ex-President Josie Lau
(6) AWARE member's identity not known.
How did you fare?
More than 3 correct - Good job (in being part of the grapevine)
Less than 3 correct - Good job (staying out of the gossip)
Which infamous Singaporean woman said that?
Level 1 (Basic)
1. Shut up and sit down.
2. Respect your elders.
3. Get out of my elite uncaring face.
Level 2 (Intermediate)
4. I know nothing about this press conference.
5. The Old Guard has had their field day giving the media stories upon stories and info which are totally and utterly inaccurate, so this is our chance to talk to the media.
Level 3 (Advanced)
6. Respect is earned.
End
Check your answers:
(1) AWARE ex-Honorary Treasurer Sally Ang
(2) AWARE ex-Feminist Mentor Dr Thio Su Mien
(3) Wee Shu Min
(4) AWARE ex-Assistant Honarary Treasuere Chew I-Jin
(5) AWARE ex-President Josie Lau
(6) AWARE member's identity not known.
How did you fare?
More than 3 correct - Good job (in being part of the grapevine)
Less than 3 correct - Good job (staying out of the gossip)
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
Twas a...
The pesky flu was bearable. It did not cause me much grief and I was producing chlorophyll tablets each morning.
Then I decided enough was enough and I went to see my doctor this morning.
He called it a low grade infection. It is hard to clear up and tremendously pesky. I'm on antibiotics again.
Then I decided enough was enough and I went to see my doctor this morning.
He called it a low grade infection. It is hard to clear up and tremendously pesky. I'm on antibiotics again.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Great Sieve
People fret the homoswivian flu like it is the end of the world. To me, it isn't. It actually represents the beginning of a new world.
In fact, I am looking forward to the next pandemic. I am so looking forward to it I'll lay out the red carpets, throw it a fireworks party and hire some Texas university marching band to give it a grand welcome.
The pandemic is nature's way of selecting the next batch of worthy candidates to carry on the human line. When your gene's time is up, it's time to say goodbye. No need to fret and no need to cry.
When it is not time yet, you will fall ill, then develop resistance and survive the affliction. And then your offspring will have immunity to this new strain of flu. Once these people develop resistance, they will carry the torch for the human species. The last time during the Spanish flu, even though the case-fatality ratio is greater than 2%, the reality is that less than 1% of the population (or about 50 million) died. Incidentally, the Spanish flu was also of the H1N1 sub-type.
Given these trivial numbers, I really wonder what is the big deal about such pandemics.
Let the pandemic do what cancer, heart disease and AIDS failed to do. It is one way of rapidly cleansing the population - au naturel - and it is ethical, scientific and entirely random and objective. You leave or stay depending on your genes suitability to stay on. It is a brutal (f)act but it works.
In fact, I am looking forward to the next pandemic. I am so looking forward to it I'll lay out the red carpets, throw it a fireworks party and hire some Texas university marching band to give it a grand welcome.
The pandemic is nature's way of selecting the next batch of worthy candidates to carry on the human line. When your gene's time is up, it's time to say goodbye. No need to fret and no need to cry.
When it is not time yet, you will fall ill, then develop resistance and survive the affliction. And then your offspring will have immunity to this new strain of flu. Once these people develop resistance, they will carry the torch for the human species. The last time during the Spanish flu, even though the case-fatality ratio is greater than 2%, the reality is that less than 1% of the population (or about 50 million) died. Incidentally, the Spanish flu was also of the H1N1 sub-type.
Given these trivial numbers, I really wonder what is the big deal about such pandemics.
Let the pandemic do what cancer, heart disease and AIDS failed to do. It is one way of rapidly cleansing the population - au naturel - and it is ethical, scientific and entirely random and objective. You leave or stay depending on your genes suitability to stay on. It is a brutal (f)act but it works.
Still sick
I wonder why getting a flu these days causes me so much grief. It seems like the symptoms are never severe enough to cause excruciating pain or terribly discomfort but instead they are long lasting and debilitating. I lost my voice entirely yesterday. But the throat was not in much pain.
I had a mild throbbing headache yesterday. Uncomfortable, yes; painful, not really. My chest is congested yesterday. Uncomfortable, yes; painful, no. The cough came and still comes periodically. It aggravates the headache, the throat and the chest. But I'm nowhere close to seeking anodynes.
I'm off work today for the second day in a row. I'm still woozy and this morning, I coughed out a green tablet from my throat. It was round, dry, rough and green and I would have called it an instant chlorophyll tablet if I were a plant. But it was phelgm.
Looks like it's some time to recovery and I hope to get well soon. I've got to go to work tomorrow because there is some preparation to be done before the summer term teaching begins in next Tuesday. And the secondary school kiddies need to see their math teacher before they take their papers. How they love and hate me. I think in the end, they'll be simply thankful I'm their math teacher. And that is enough for me. The two groups of math kids are an entire blog in themselves.
I am just going to get some work done from home and watch this flu get better.
I had a mild throbbing headache yesterday. Uncomfortable, yes; painful, not really. My chest is congested yesterday. Uncomfortable, yes; painful, no. The cough came and still comes periodically. It aggravates the headache, the throat and the chest. But I'm nowhere close to seeking anodynes.
I'm off work today for the second day in a row. I'm still woozy and this morning, I coughed out a green tablet from my throat. It was round, dry, rough and green and I would have called it an instant chlorophyll tablet if I were a plant. But it was phelgm.
Looks like it's some time to recovery and I hope to get well soon. I've got to go to work tomorrow because there is some preparation to be done before the summer term teaching begins in next Tuesday. And the secondary school kiddies need to see their math teacher before they take their papers. How they love and hate me. I think in the end, they'll be simply thankful I'm their math teacher. And that is enough for me. The two groups of math kids are an entire blog in themselves.
I am just going to get some work done from home and watch this flu get better.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Homoswivian Flu
The latest swine flu virus originating from Mexico seems to derive its DNA from human, swine and avian flu viruses. I guess a more appropriate name would be the homoswivian flu. I coined this term but I'm not sure if I want to be credited for it.
But I digress.
You know what a little bird from Mexico told me? Yes, you've got it figured out, haven't you? We can rely on little birds to spread the viruses from birds to birds to pigs to humans to humans. This is getting so exciting.
The avian flu thingy has always been a red herring. The real thing is the 3-in-1 triple whammy. I wonder if this is really the ONE, what is the true cost going to be.
But I digress.
You know what a little bird from Mexico told me? Yes, you've got it figured out, haven't you? We can rely on little birds to spread the viruses from birds to birds to pigs to humans to humans. This is getting so exciting.
The avian flu thingy has always been a red herring. The real thing is the 3-in-1 triple whammy. I wonder if this is really the ONE, what is the true cost going to be.
It never rains...
Following my skid and crash on Friday, I had the worst left calf cramp that night. I had my left foot socked up because I haven't compression bandages to keep the ankle from moving too much. That night, I was racked with leg cramps that made me struggle to get those socks on because the socks had constricted the muscle spasms. I was in so much pain that I could absolutely understand how Victor (the ABC-lawyer in the Amazing Race) felt when he had those cramps after he and his sister completed a million failed sychronized diving attempts and then had to swim 400 meters. Man, how could any one be so dumb. Ok, any two. Shouldn't it be, let's say one-two-three and we jump off? They did not coordinate and simply jumped off like Energiser bunnies on steriods. Ok, maybe it's the steriods.
On Sunday, the group of tuition kids were all sick. And guess what? Now I'm so sick too. The flu started yesterday and hit its worst last night. I woke up several times to go to the loo and this morning at 8 am, my left calf cramped up again. This time, it was so bad I had to retract my leg and press it under me because I was both in pain and aching all over. I limp as I move around now.
After the cramp episode, I went to the loo and spat out some phelgm. Yellow and the next spit was sputum covered with blood. It's the flu all right. All viruses cause bleeding of some sort and seeing this makes me happy - once phelgm starts getting expelled, the infection is on its way out. I feel a little better this morning, despite a somewhat less than ideal night's sleep. Still, it sure felt better than the less than 10 winks I had Sunday night, when the flu was at its onset.
On Sunday, the group of tuition kids were all sick. And guess what? Now I'm so sick too. The flu started yesterday and hit its worst last night. I woke up several times to go to the loo and this morning at 8 am, my left calf cramped up again. This time, it was so bad I had to retract my leg and press it under me because I was both in pain and aching all over. I limp as I move around now.
After the cramp episode, I went to the loo and spat out some phelgm. Yellow and the next spit was sputum covered with blood. It's the flu all right. All viruses cause bleeding of some sort and seeing this makes me happy - once phelgm starts getting expelled, the infection is on its way out. I feel a little better this morning, despite a somewhat less than ideal night's sleep. Still, it sure felt better than the less than 10 winks I had Sunday night, when the flu was at its onset.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Scented Hands
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.
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.
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.
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