a fruit scene

This is where passerbys walk slowly through the small pathway during busy periods, keeping a lookout for fruits that look and smell fresh. It is where fruit-sellers lay long (singlish: to display; to parade) their stuff, shouting at the top of their voices, cajoling and impressing upon interested buyers to buy something. Apples, durians, bananas - you name it, they have it.

Twenty-three days ago

The venue: Fish and Co at Wheelock Place. The occasion: A simple dinner, a get-together, if you like. The atmosphere: like the good old days, where conversations, laughter, bad jokes, silly remarks and harmless jibes flow freely.

There were 8 of us, a number i reckon neither too big nor too small, comfortable enough to allow everyone to interact with one another for the entire evening. Five years have gone by - knowingly and unknowingly - but some things remain the same, I realise. Like the yellow-tee that Jul wore. Or the dimpled smile of t*.

But there are other less discernible but surely more salient matters that remain unchanged despite the passage of time: our personalities. This is the one thing that makes us know what to expect of each other, what to anticipate of our meeting and how to riposte that smart jibe spewing out of someone's mouth every so often (of course sometimes you just roll your eyes or laugh mockingly, or you go 'yah..yah..'). Maybe if it were only 3 or 4 of us, there might be some awkard moments; but in general, the presence of a few outspoken and loquacious people ensures that there is seldom a minute that goes by without something being talked about.

Marc is still that rotund, if a little unkempt, guy who speaks coarsely, says a lot of nonsense and has a mind full of lascivious thoughts. Perhaps he never got round to imbibing the finer points of social propriety that limit acceptable behaviour between Man and Woman, what with his sometimes indecent questions or proposals that offend. But by and large, he means no disrespect. If he irritates, i daresay he's behaving in an immature manner that is so his nature. The way to go is to beat him at his own game. Which is not too difficult since most of us are at any time more than ready to join forces and turn the tables on him. Unless of course he is making fun of, well, jw.

jw's the other peculiar guy who hasn't changed much. He is still single-mindedly devoted to his other half who wasn't with us that night. Apart from the fact that he is now even wealthier than he was before, his very-short-haircut, his persistent questions and his deep-seated insistence on not wanting to feel indebted to anyone - these are the traits that very much still inform our opinion of him. There is, however, a persistent depressing side of his outlook which stems from various inhibitions that are self-imposed. As far as I believe, since the day he won the heart of his life-partner, he has gained a new-found confidence that mitigates his depressing outlook of life and friendships. On a different note, he is doubtless the one amongst us who has a certain and promising path ahead of him.

You never quite know when you have made the transition into yet another stage in life, one which is at least quite different from the previous stage to be worthy of being regarded a new phase. But there are significant details or momentous changes in life that hint at or blatantly signal the passing of years and coming of age. And it need not be graduation or landing that first job. Whenever i speak to and interact with long-time friends I am always reminded of how far we have come since our school days. Once impecunious schoolgoers whose duty is just attending school everyday, doing homework and enjoying an occasional gathering with one or two groups of close friends, most of us have unavoidably metamorphosed into preoccupied individuals who now command financial independence. Where we used to dig into our thin wallets to make sure we have enough to pay for our meals, now there are enough credit cards to compete for payment - because there is no cash to spare. Where anxious dads or mums would upon the call of their child drive out to pick them up from anywhere, now almost everyone has attained their driving licence, while some drive their own cars and others plan to buy their own.

It's not feelings of envy or maudlin sentimentality that underlie these remarks. Usually, the most trivial details surrounding our lives cannot but come to my attention or creep into my consciousness. They are a fact and when they come to my attention, I just ponder over their (in)signficance. At some point of time, they simply stand out from the generality of things and force you to take note of them. Inevitably, since they usually constitute connections between certain aspects of our past and the present, there is an element of nostalgia to whatever ensuing thoughts produced.

That evening, we had an ad hoc celebration for jw and t*, one whose birthday was the following day while the other's had just passed. At NYDC, we sang a birthday song that came on rather spontaneously. It's been a long time since we've sang birthday songs in public for a friend, and at that moment we seem to have returned to our school days.

As i recall this now, i remember, fondly, that singing birthday songs was a ritual put to good use during our school days - they delay the tutor from starting the lesson.

My tom yang diarrhoea friend

There was some precious few minutes left before the doors of the examination hall would open. I saw a decent space not faraway from where i stood and decided that i shall settle for it. Sitting down rather than standing around would be far better for me to absorb whatever final notes i still could. Approaching there, however, i caught sight of someone slouching on the ground, his back slumped against the drab concrete wall. Unmistakably, that was Mr Teoks: he was almost half-lying on the ground, though, unlike me, he didn't have any notes in his hands.

I went over next to him and exclaimed mockingly (but very mildly), "someone looks very prepared and full of confidence yah." To which he was quick to retort: "this is called Can't Be Bothered." I sat down next to him, and for that precious few minutes thereafter, he kinda ruined my last ditch attempt to finish reading the copious amounts of notes in my hands. I shall blame him for my bad results.

We didn't make any plans to meet up after the paper but nevertheless, we had dinner together at Holland V. ( I found out that the carpark that was still in construction when i last went there is now in operation.) This being the end of a traumatic period of being entrapped in the terrifying place called school library, we both were in agreement that we could do with some good food to nourish ourselves. But the thing is, both of us being very hawker-centre kind of people, we ain't have any idea where is a good place to dine. And both of us also being very sui bian kind of people (as in anything goes for us or accomodating), we spent a lot of time discussing what would be the most judicious decision for post-exam dinner. And so, from one end of holland v we walked right to the other end before turning and walking down the same path back. Along the way, we saw an apparently new restuarant that is offering pasta for a mere $2.99. That makes us seriously wonder what the size of the serving would be.

I wanted to go on and write about how many other stops and hesistations and considerations we made before we finally settled for Thai Express, but i am too tired to go on. It would be as long as the time we took to walk round the entire Holland V before finally walking into Thai Express. By which time, we had already become two miserable, famished students.

I don't know if ever laksa is served without any noodles or, more specifically, whether Thai laksa is served with or without noodles. I wouldn't have questioned this until Teoks asked me that. He wanted to order one of the laksa dishes but did not do so in the end, because we wanted Tom Yam seafood soup. The soup turned out to be the best dish for our dinner because it was really authentic - sweet, sour and spicy, and without the oiliness that characterises most local versions of tom yam soup. Then came yet another comment from Teoks which rather amuses me: "I think i will have diarrhoea later because that's what always happens to me after eating my tom yam cup noodles." I did not hesistate to correct his gross misjudgement: "Hello, this is genuine tom yam soup alright; those that got you your diarrhoea, they are fake!"

Besides that, during and after the dinner, i took his very-slim camera (which he always brings along with him) to take some random pictures. I reminded him later via sms to send me the photos and it elicited this friendly sms reply from him: "Yup ill post it in a month or two dun worry." I was too polite to heap my curses on him.

I must say dinner was good. There wasn't any haste to get things done, the food was decent, and the service (always an important factor) was pleasing.
Lovely.

it's that time of the week again

No wonder my mood was particularly light when i took a walk to the market-place just now. Why, of course it is Sunday. The sky was turning dark as i strolled on the side-walkway and i could see the bright lights of the coffeeshops from afar. There was an air of excitement but it wasn't that of the atmosphere one finds in the raucous morning market. Families had congregated at the various coffeeshops and were having their dinner. This time of the day and week, the zi char stores at every kopitiam doubtless are at their busiest, taking orders and serving food for many a Singaporean family. I find it usually quite heartening to walk past these kopitiams, seeing small kids and grandparents alike with their other family members enjoying dinner together. Having grown up in the HDB heartland all my living years, this is a common sight which i am all too familiar with. I guess the kopitiam scene in the weekend evening depicts a very Singaporean aspect that strikes a chord with me. The shops and the facade of the market place may change over the years but not the feelings that it inspires in one who grew up breathing and living its vibes, with all its chaotic and colourful contents.

cause for excitement

I have many disparate and sporadic observations that can be put into words here, but they would appear disjointed and meaningless; now's not the right time to blog, though it is quite apparent that i am doing it in any case.

Just a week ago, the library was filled with so many people that it actually made for a horrible sight, what with the intense congregation of muggers, muggers and - more muggers. Now there are fewer souls around, most of whom doubtless are connected to one another by the one miserable fate which they share: exams are not done yet. The only comfort for me is that in another two days i shall depart from this group and thereby regain my freedom. Freedom from the tyranny of examination and freedom to pursue my interests. I shall be able to eat healthy and sleep healthy; exercise on a more frequent basis without the imbalance in lifestyle to ruin its positive gains; and my mind shall be cleansed of unnecessary theories and academic concepts.

There's much to be excited about, as it is. (Never mind that i am sounding as if i have fulfilled my dilligent role when the truth is I have been so hopelessly l.a.z.y)

cheers to a sunny weather

I realise that somehow the weather, of all things, is always able to inspire me to write. It could be the sun, rain or a thunderstorm - such natural conditions affect my mood and trigger many thoughts. I become variously contemplative, melancholy or exhilarted. And that makes me feel like writing about the weather as well as other stuff which are essentially just ramblings.

So far, this morning i have been able to exercise discipline by focusing on my readings longer than i usually do. I can't of course attribute this to the weather; that would be quite absurd. Still, the sunny weather today cheered me a little somewhat. The warmth generated was a lovely departure from the past few days of torrential rains and strong winds, which had kind of brought along with them a persistent sense of gloom. This morning, however, I looked up at the sky and was pleasantly greeted by a clear, blue sky that was interspersed with pockets of thick, white clouds, none of which, though, were menacing or boded ill weather for the rest of the day. The prospects for the day seem also bright. Or maybe my good mood was due to the lingering endorphin from the late night run yesterday. My day started on a positive note and it really needed to be that way.

Four more days to go and hopefully there would be more active writing from me. I need a break from all the leaden academic writings. Already, I am thrilled that finally there would be time for unfinished books, magazines, photo-taking and, above all, doing little or nothing.

sunday bliss

Sunday - you typically feel more laid-back as the pace of life slows down. Unless you join the throngs in town, in the hustle and bustle of city living, the residential suburbs can be a good place to spend some peaceful moments. If you pause during the weekdays, take a deep breath and survey the neighbourhood, you probably would realise that Monday, Tuesday or the rest of the week is no different from Sunday. But boy, does Sunday make a whole lot of difference! The air smells somwhat fresher; the road below with the same trees lining its sides looks less busy; and the nondescript playground, the street soccer court - in fact, the entire park - they seem to exude a lovely serenity, seeing it alone from the balcony of your flat cheers you up and calms your mind.

Admittedly, the hot Sunday afternoon can really kill your spirits. Add to that the lack of good programmes on TV during this time, and you may find your Sunday spent at home to be a chore; or a complete waste of the most important day of the week - which you will lament when the day draws to a close and you are confronted with pre-Monday blues. The thing is to keep yourself occupied during the early afternoon, like reading a book and surfing the net or maybe meeting up with some friends for coffee or other leisure activities. But always stay away from the claustrophobic town.

In the late afternoon/evening however, this is the best time to enjoy your Sunday at home or in your neighbourhood without feeling a grudge. You usually don't get to enjoy this part of the day on other days because chances are - if you are a regular 8 to 5 worker, that is - you will be travelling or just knocking off from work. As such, during the week you won't bother to pay attention to the surroundings or appreciate your abode because you simply are too tired. Even meeting your neighbours or trudging past other residents in the area - who are also trudging their way home - is dreadful and hopefully avoidable. And if you had a lousy day at work or in school, everything else becomes oblivious of your attention because you made a conscious effort to shut your mind.

Sunday is different. There's no rushing home from work, no ceaseless movements of returning folks filling every possible space in the neighbourhood, no foul mood and, most important, no tired spirits. Because you are in a completely relaxed and easy mood, you are able to take greater notice of things around you, things which are inconsequential but have a beauty of their own - things which otherwise usually escape your attention. For example, as dusk approaches the sun seems also aware that this is Sunday and not other days, for it seems no hurry to retire for the day and then doing so in an unobtrusive way. The afternoon heat gives way to mild sunshine whose luxuriant rays now provide warmth, not a source of irritant. As the breeze makes contact with your skin, you feel positively refreshed and upbeat. There is less traffic on the roads and fewer people in the streets (as everyone is at their home or their parents or grandparents' home eating dinner), all of which make for a pleasant and serene atmosphere, so much so that it would be a pity not to get out of home and take a stroll outside. It is of course really because on a Sunday you should have little or no work, that you are in the perfect state of mind to be able to pause and enjoy such ordinary details. You are grateful for the fact that in the human calendar, at least a day each week - for most people in any case - is set aside not for work.

I like my Sunday evenings best, because this is when life comes closer to being simpler and idyllic. It is when i get to appreciate the otherwise sterile neighbourhood during most part of the week. When the day first gradually fades and then almost imperceptibly transits into night, i feel most content and suffused with a sense of optimism. It is as if every unpleasant feeling and negative thought, at least for that brief period, has dissipated with the sun's vanishing rays.

Going out on Sundays to the malls or meeting with friends and relatives are fine. These are the activities that often have to be done on a Sunday, the only day of the week that seems to afford us time to do a dozen things that are not work related and which can't be done during the busy week. But they are not worth it if at the end of the day you feel drained and tired - no different from the rest of the week. One would want a good day of rest before one enters the new week of work with all the inane and insane that comes along with the frenetic pace of life.

A few more hours and this Sunday would be officially the past. But that would mean i have the next Sunday to look forward to.

A call from overseas

In the midst of my futile attempt to write something for my political economy essay, i received a surprised call from K. It's a surprise because this was a long distance call - K had called from Down Under. He's doing a 5 year vet course there and there're two more years to go for him. After that he still has a good 4 months to spend in army when he's back in Singapore. He jokes that by the time he's back in army, the young men in the army are going to be laughing at him, for he would be so much older than most of them. This quickly brings to my mind, that because of national service, most of the male Singaporeans actually end up in the work force at a rather old age - at least old enough for the female counterparts to have already been working for some years. (i say this matter-of-factly, not in any sardonic or angry sense.) For those of us who go to university, it also means that our family would have to shoulder a heavy burden for a couple more years before we can finally take over the burden.

But no, that wasn't what i want to talk about. I spoke to K for almost an hour on the phone, during which my laptop was left unattended on the studying desk in the library (I had to move elsewhere). But i wasn't worried about this of course. Although we haven't been in the closest contact since secondary school days - which by the way were some donkey years ago - we nonetheless had a good chat over the phone. What i want to say is just this: when a good friend calls you up from abroad, you feel a sense of elation that in particular warms your heart and reassures you. I guess it is a small thing but it says something about the friendship. Maybe these days making an overseas call is as good as making a call locally, but i think people who are living abroad don't usually call up their friends here most of the time. I was only glad to find out that K was feeling troubled and decided to call me up, though i probably did not do much to make him feel better. Still, we spoke about other common friends and updated each other on our lives. He's also having his exams in a week's time, but will be back this December. Which reminds me other friends from Australia are also coming back this year end. I am looking forward to meeting all of them soon.

Grow up

I told Irene this evening (this evening being a few days ago) that i am constantly distracted and can't get settled to do my work seriously. Her response was immediate: 'Grow up!'

Unbelievable as that may seem, I'm afraid she was telling the truth. If I can't muster the self-discipline that all adults need to exercise to organise their lives, I'm not far different from the recalcitrant kid who lacks focus and needs an adult to enforce discipline on him. The person who can't concentrate on his work has only himself to blame, not the many distractions that everyone is confronted with everyday. I watch too much TV, write too many emails, muse too much about impractical things (Irene rightly describes me as being too 'dreamy') and get too little work done. In the end, this only shows how much discipline I lack. And if I may add, this probably also sets me apart from others who are doing well - those who have a vision and a goal, and the drive and focus to achieving them.

I am not whining here. I am aware how increasingly inept i've become, lacking the discipline a student needs to mug through endless amounts of school work. Every other reason that I come up with just seems to come across as a poor excuse. So i've stopped making excuses. I hope things will become better - and for that to happen, i would first have to finish my final essay for the semester.

that elusive happiness

Sometimes the drudgery of everyday routines or the ponderous details in our lives cause us to descend into the occasional melancholic introspection. We become upset, maybe feel utterly helpless or inept; we also behave a tad unpredictably, acting even like an idiot perhaps. Mood swings are likely, just as unusual reticence is understandably normal. This is perhaps when we yearn to be left alone or desire company, depending on the individual. It is also when we find ourselves delving into the past to seek assurance or looking into the future and contemplate answers. Often, the familiar become something we cling to, as though the mere act of possessing or doing them manifests relief. And so it is that we look through precious photo albums, or run in the dead of the night and feel the caress of a cold breeze, or sit in front of the TV and keep changing channels, the purpose of which is of course not to watch any particular show. The idea, basically, is to keep ourselves occupied and numb our feelings. No doubt most of us get upset and hung up on many things every now and then (not that we can help it sometimes); the difference lies in how we survive the temporary misery.

Cycling on the road the other day, it struck me that happiness is the feeling which transpires when you do things you genuinely enjoy. There is no striving to attain happiness because it comes naturally when you are at ease with yourself and free from any inhibition. There was a fun race at Mount Faber that morning and while i did not take part in the race itself, i nonetheless cycled my way down. I was tired and i hadn't rode for quite some time and there were dreadful deadlines looming at the back of my mind. But as soon as i hit the road, i could almost feel deeply the familiar sense of liberation which always transpires when i'm riding my bike. This sense of liberation is also what motivates me to pedal harder, cycle further, go the further mile. Apart from the hazardous traffic, there's little that interferes with the ride: my legs worked the pedals, my hands gripped the handlebar and my eyes focused on the unravelling road ahead.

Other kinds of sports can equally bring joy to the practitioner, but there's a connection between a cyclist and his bike that is inseparably linked to the liberation and joy which he experiences while riding. As the cyclist moves constantly he sees scenery and people and things that pass him by relentlessly, even if these enter and exit the mind only for a fleeting moment. Perhaps it's the transience, or perhaps it's the beauty of the ordinary which appears only briefly and from a distance - there's something about cycling past objects and through human space that has the capacity to move, even inspire.

I like to think that cycling is a very down-to-earth activity (not in the literal sense): You go as fast as you are willing to push yourself, relying on personal will and strength. More important, there's a sense of equanimity that accompanies you whenever you pedal your bike and cycle into the distance. I reckon this equanimity which cycling affords is what makes me feel unfailingly liberated and happy each time i'm on the bike.

Nevertheless, all these aside, i was happy cycling down to Mount Faber that morning because i was doing something i enjoy - pure and simple as that.

International rankings: what's the problem?

On the third page of ST today is the report on SM's take on media freedom in Singapore:

Singapore needs a media which practises its freedom responsibly, yet is not subservient to the Government.
The media here should aim to unite, not divide; and should report the news in a balanced manner without sensationalising coverage to boost circulation, (said) Senior Minister Goh Chok Tong last night.
Outlining the Government's view of a responsible media, he said that while times have changed, the context in which the Singapore media operates has not changed much.
The multi-ethnic structure and social fabric remain the same, and so do the country's permanent vulnerabilities.

On Singapore's international ranking in press freedom:

How should Singapore react when it takes a beating in an international ranking on press freedom?
There's no need to be embarrassed or worry that investors might be put off, Senior Minister Goh Chok Tong said last night.
Because while Singapore ranks near the bottom in a media freedom index by the Paris-based group, Reporters Without Borders, it does very well on other ratings.
Singapore was ranked 140th out of 167 in media freedom, behind ASEAN neighbours Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia and the Philippines.
Even struggling, war-torn Sudan came out seven spots above Singapore at No. 133, which Mr Goh found amazing.

Well, there is no doubt that critics of the PAP are not going to be persuaded by SM's take on press freedom in Singapore. I suspect for people who are rather tired of hearing justifications for the Singapore model on the media, this sort of news has long ceased to provoke them into counter-argument. As for me, i just respond with a mix of indifference and cynicism.

If indeed Singapore shouldn't worry about such rankings from Reporters without Borders, then is it not rather unwise to quickly bring forth international rankings in other areas to serve as a basis for comparison? To discredit or mitigate the abysmal showing in one ranking using top ranking scores in other areas does highlight important points, but this seems to smack of double standard. SM Goh is right in suggesting that Singapore's 140th ranking in media freedom does not give a true picture of the Singapore state. Very astutely, he points out Sudan's better ranking to allow the implication to speak for itself: for anyone with even bare awareness of international affairs would agree that, to speak of Singapore and Sudan in the same breath is to undermine the vast differences between an economically first-world prosperous state and a third-world war-afflicted nation.

SM used Singapore's favourable, if not fantastic, scores in other areas like corruption and economic freedom to prove that Singapore's perceived poor record in media freedom is really unimportant or even irrelevant. The critics of Singapore's press freedom have neglected to point out that despite or because of our (supposed lack of) press freedom, we are now a nation which has achieved prosperity in a clean and uncorrupted environment, surely a record that allows us to stand tall in the international community. The poor showing of our media freedom is thus a travesty, for it really gives a wrong impression of Singapore. It follows that even if it were true that Singapore is so repressed in this area, at the very least our success in other areas would somewhat mitigate or excuse our poor performance in press freedom.

The thing about the myriad of international rankings of countries in different areas is this: that the performance of the country in the aspect which is being ranked - be it on economic freedom, transparency, education or media freeom - depicts the part of reality that it chooses to. To that extent, one cannot really dismiss the poor showing of Singapore in the aspect of media freedom, for it cannot be that there is no justfication for Singapore's being ranked at the bottom. As any well-informed person of local politics would tell you, there are both underlying overt and covert mechanisms that restrict media freedom here in Singapore. The glaring lack of news on or marginalisation of local political opposition in the media is one case in point.

On the other hand, these rankings alone cannot be taken at face value. Media freedom is but one aspect of a country's performance, albeit an important one; it is, however, not the be-all and the end-all. To merely focus on this alone gives an incomplete picture of Singapore. Surely a nation which has been able to provide for a decent standard of living and prosperity for its people, and law and order, cannot be what the 140th ranking in press freedom would suggest. There must be a well-balanced consideration of all factors.

Our political leaders would have to speak up whenever certain aspects of the country invite scrutiny in whatever form from the world over. However, the discerning citizen would have to decide for himself what to agree or accept when the government explain its perspective.

Holiday (or not)

The good thing about living in a multiracial nation is this: you get more national holidays. Just when you thought Hari Raya Puasa or Deepavali or Chirstmas had just passed, you realised the next Hari Raya Puasa, Deepavali or Christmas is just around the corner. Sometimes i just wonder, hmm, wasn't that over quite recently? But heck, it's a holiday - and holidays are precious, precious time for deprived students and Singaporeans who just seem to be working non-stop. For me, i like Deepavali - specifically, i like this year's Deepavali: because it falls on a Tuesday, and Tuesdays are my longest day in school. Never mind that i've been skipping classes. Never mind that i won't be celebrating Deepavali. In fact, that's precisely the point.

Tomorrow, i hope to be able to do some running. The key word is hope. I would be grateful if Heaven makes the decision for me by pouring intensely the whole day, or at least at the moment when i open my eyes in the morning. It makes me feel satisfied because i don't have to make a choice. i won't need to feel guilty should i end up not running or i don't have to deliberate and think of 101 reasons why i should run to counter 100 reasons why i shouldn't run. That can be quite tiring for my mind which, as it is, is already preoccupied with too much work. Leave my poor mind alone.

That's pretty much about it. It's either slack a little, do some sports, or work on essays or study for tests and exams. Right now, during this period, one can't really think of going for movies, going to town or engaging in some activities that take up too much time. If i were to go back to the school library tomorrow, for instance, i would be forgiven for thinking that it's a normal school day. But of course that won't happen, because no way will i drag my feet to that dreadful place called school.

And so tomorrow and Thursday will be public holidays. Should we students be grateful for that 'extra' time to catch up with work, or should we be upset that we are cheated of a supposed holiday?
Like so many other things, there's always irony or contradictions.
But others would have us know, it's all a matter of perspective.
Ah...