Of late

I did not have the most accomplished weekend, but it was a very decent one nevertheless, and I feel rested and ready for a new week of battles. Some of my friends have asked me how I have been doing in my current job. I tell them I am doing well: I am not unhappy in my current position, neither am I exhibiting much angst as before. I wonder if one can be truly happy in one's profession, for in any type of work there is bound to be both good and bad, both things that you enjoy and do not enjoy doing. Ideally, the enjoyable bits should greatly outweigh the dislikable parts. 

Ironically, of late I have been just as busy, if not busier, at work. I am often wearied out during the week as I leave home when it's barely bright and return only when its deep into the night almost daily. Tired I may be, but I am not frustrated or upset to any degree that leaves me emotionally drained. This is a critical difference from what I was going through previously. In fact, I have started to enjoy what I am doing over the past two weeks. There is still a lot of annoying work that inevitably comes along with dealing with clients and managing multiple deadlines and requests. Yet there is also a sense of excitement in figuring out and managing tactical aspects of the work I am dealing with, while smart-talking colleagues and new learning areas have helped to keep my days interesting and fruitful.

Perhaps much has to do with the environment and nature of my work, which differs greatly from my previous job. Instead of writing endless minutes and polishing one draft after another, I now look at figures and try to decipher their meaning so as to tweak them further to achieve some magical results. I find that I actually don't abhor the idea of being a geek and quite like being one in fact. Working with a small team and having limited resources, I no longer have to contend with a stratified machinery; neither do I have to expand emotional energy to grapple with people issues and a thousand peripheral matters. Even more important, I realise, is that I have more weekends to myself than before. This has given me time to recuperate between one battle-weary week and the next, thereby helping to restore some degree of balance in a life that will never cease working. I can charge ahead and work my ass off during the week, but it is important that I have time to do other things in life, time which I can only afford during the weekend. 

Happily, I am starting to find myself living healthier weekends these days. That has also made me greedy and hungry for even more weekend time even as I try to have a productive weekend every week. For there is just so much that I want to do over Saturday and Sunday. It sounds like I have a lot to do, but the ingredients for a happy weekend for me are pretty simple: time for sleeping, time for coffee and food, time for exercise, and time for reading. I went for a jog on Saturday evening and felt so good after that, having tried, unsuccessfully, to catch up with a much older man whom I swear was running at a IPPT 2.4km Platinum pace (aka above Gold Standard pace!). Then on Sunday. I wanted to cycle and run and swim all at the same time, but needless to say I couldn't do it even if I were a triathlete. I swam in the end and made up my mind that I would not linger longer than the time needed to complete my laps, just so I can scoot off for a cuppa after that (it was already late evening then). I managed to do both, and you know how setting goals for yourself and achieving them gives a great deal of satisfaction. 

So now I am ready to plunge back into the depths of the work and I think I can handle all the crises that will be surfacing during the week. Just leave my weekend untouched and I will work hard over the next 5 days. Promise.

I hope you enjoy your work and weekends too. Gambate!


Late evening jog by the lake on Saturday


A heart gift from yesteryear


Aspiring to be owner of a chic van


Girl & Her Doggie


Coffee Grounder


Sunday Cuppacino


Sunday Cuppacino with Murakami's 1Q84


1Q84: Tengo visits his Dad & the Cat Story


Looking for its script writer


My trusty un-DSLR cammie


Potions in a wooden chemical holder


View in front of me


Hello Kitty.

Lessons from the pool

I remember taking swimming lessons when I was still a little boy in primary school. Those were the days when mum and us would take a 15 minute ride on bus 98 (this excludes waiting time for the bus) which would take us through one of the oldest housing estates in the area. I know, because the 1-room flat where we used to live in was in the estate. Now the area only spots modern high-rise housing blocks with clinically well-planned neighbourhood parks and standard HDB amenities - nothing like the days of yore where shanty-looking flats were the norm.

Two weeks ago, I managed to catch a break and found time to swim again. I used to do that on a more regular basis when I was working in Toa Payoh and the swimming pool was just a street across the office. But the last time I swam was more than a year ago when I could still afford the time during lunch hour or after work. I enjoy swimming because it's is an easy sport which cost little; the water has a calming effect which never fails to relax me while I'm at it. Swimming in the pool, I often thought this is how a fish lives its life: slicing through water, under the surface, gliding calmly across the water body. Like any other sport, once you find your rhythm and pace, swimming becomes second nature and you start to enjoy the steady motion of moving in the water body. The water glides across your body as much as you cut through it.

Walking to the train station the other day, the image of the old swimming pool, now already gone, came to my mind. Almost intuitively, I could mentally reconstruct the physical setting of the swimming complex: the big spacious toilets with open cubicles and old pipes; the spectator gallery at where our belongings are dumped before we hit the pool; the small opening from the restaurant where hot drinks were bought; and the deep 12 ft pool and musky interior of the entire complex. All these details came to mind easily. But above all, it was the rather mundane journey of travelling weekly to the swimming complex that made the memory warm. This is just amongst a handful of memories from the yesteryears which come to the fore every now and then when one is hit by a bolt of nostalgia. Like all nostalgic memories, it harks back to a simpler life - that of an easily contented child who has yet to deal with the sobrieties of life.

Tuesday Toast

1. I decided the lesser of two evils and settled for Toastbox to get my sweets fix after an unsatisfying dinner which consisted of roasted duck rice. That's half the amount of evil money that would have come out of my wallet if I had gone to Starbucks instead.

2. Toast Box seriously needs to update and change the sad repertoire of old chinese unoriginal songs that they are playing. I hear them all the time, no matter when I patronise them and which branch I go to.

3. Today's an important and supposedly happy day but because of a certain issue, I've been dispirited and heavy hearted. I hope I can resolve this soon and cruise ahead in a new Spring.

4. On a completely different note, I'm meeting Josh tomorrow for his belated birthday dinner, but I ain't have a place in mind. There's also a whole gang of people and individuals whom i've not caught up with for an eternity. I hope to find time to meet them soon!

5. Tomorrow shall be a better day. Gambate!

Leap of faith

Let this day be remembered as the day I took a leap of faith, and tomorrow be that day the leap is completed.

Return of Joy

As a sign of how awful times have been, I clicked my 'Photo 2010' folder in my hard disk only to realise that there is a discontinuity in my sub-folder series: there were no September and October folders. The reason? Why, of course it's because I haven't been taking any photos in the past two months! Sacrilegious, I know.

Sadly, photographs have been such a sparse output of my life in twenty-ten. And to think pictures and images are the sort of things that give joy and inspiration. So there you have it, I've been living an insipid and uninspired life for the past few months.

A little joy and inspiration did find its way back and shake off some of my sustained misery over the last weekend though. I find it incredible that I met JW for lunch on Friday, dinner with SP at Holland V the same day, drinks with Adr & Shyuan after that, and a happy trip to Kel's new abode late at night. None of these meetings were planned before that day; they were all spontaneous. The first two happened because the Missus were unavailable, so how nice it was that my buddies thought of me. I know, we all have our places in life, and mine isn't exactly at the top. :)

Drinks with Adr happened because I wanted to get wasted, though this simple goal requires not just willingness but also good timing. I had only a pint of kilkenny, which was not quite sufficient to drift me into wastedness.

The night ended with an impromptu visit to Kelvin, who just got his apartment and moved in one month ago. With just a month shy of his big day, we ended up looking at his wedding shots and talking about what Adr and I would NOT do to help him win his bride. You know, things like eating weird stuff, dancing silly dances and other ridiculous things that are a ploy by the fairer sex to rob us males of our dignity. At twenty-something years old, our dignity is more fragile and too valuable to be trodden on (we aren't the ones getting a wife!) So we told Kel pointedly that his blood brother Kenneth could take all this.

The good stuff continued into Saturday, though I was increasingly aware and unsettled by the work that I've put aside. When I went to meet up with another group of friends, I facebooked all the way from home to our meeting place. Instead of emailing or sms-ing, we now reply to FB messages on Facebook mobile. My life seems a lot better if i consider how SX worked till 5am on the first day of her new work. But considering that I earn a fraction of what she does, that's no comfort at all. The limelight was on J, who had a whirlwind tour to Hotel Singapore before flying back to her adopted home for the past few years, only to leave it permanently in the next few days to settle in glitzy Shanghai. Meanwhile, I can only be a spectator of the glitz.

Friends and photographs aside, I emptied my wallet and bought three new books and a magazine, which helped to raise the happiness index a few notches higher. Here's to more awesome weekends ahead.


I just love this. Order HERE!


A lamp shines on glorious children's books


Automatic Bookmaker


Oozes chic and elegance


New Property awaits a fresh wrap


Lusciousness redefined


I love the off-colours and the colour similarities


Words to shoot by at a cafe on a lazy Sunday afternoon

For the Nostalgic

Just what stirs feelings of nostalgia? Is it a yearning for the yesterdays that were but now etched as mere memories? Or is it an unconscious lapse into the past that is ever drifting further away from our consciousness; an impulse, if you like.

I don't know, but I think nostalgia is a self-affirming need. Who we are and how we perceive ourselves must surely be related to the past. Feeling nostalgic is about making a connection to the present with the past, and making sense of our otherwise meaningless life.

I think nostalgia is also a natural defence mechanism, being at work when we want to block off alientation, loss, fear and even frustration. Familiarity, after all, lends a sense of reassurance.

During my early years, I actually grew up listening to Chinese music. That was until I'd had enough of crap music and endless advertisement and deejays' talking on the radio. Like every generation who believe that the music of their era is the 'real stuff', the more authentic, I also think (chinese) music from the long yesteryears were much better in terms of their sincerity and meaningfulness.

During my secondary school days, a classmate of mine, who inclines towards English and all things western, once conceded that English songs can never convey emotions and feelings to the same levels of depth and intensity as chinese songs. I believe this is mainly due to the fact that Chinese is a poetic and culturally rich language, and its words convey so much more meaning and depth than the English language.

I often hear chinese pop songs from the nineties whenever I walk to or passed by the back lane that has many shops selling things. The music is loud, but most of the times I didn't mind because the songs playing were familiar and pleasant pieces. Hearing them inevitably reminded me of earlier times, and I would be suffused with a warm fuzzy sense of elation. And these days while taking the overcrowded trains, I find myself tuning in to chinese music stations, hoping to catch a familiar nice song.

Perhaps I have been living an extended period of nostalgia, trying to relive the past through the songs I once heard and enjoyed fondly. For the nostalgic, it is through yesterday's sights, sounds, smell and feel that bring back memories of our younger days. Listening to old songs reminds me just how much it is that our life journey's accompanied by music, different songs playing to different era.

I am not alone

Over email with T today, I actually felt better after the short email exchange with her. I think that's what they called, Connection.

Prelude: T sent me a url.

Me: Every now and then i feel like im having a little life crisis. These days feel like another such period. Sigh.

T: YES I know what you mean. I think I’ve hit the “crisis” several times, but this time it’s a wall!

Me: You need to break down the wall then. Haha.

Me: Thanks, it was nice reading your email. ;) You make me feel like I am not alone out there, that there are others feeling the same and facing similar 'problems'.

T: You are definitely not alone.
Ahhaha, there’s plenty of us in the same bloody dilemma.
Where to from here.

The Big Screen - 9 years on

You know these days, a wedding dinner is never complete without a photo slideshow of the wedding couple. It's as cliched as it can be, but I guess the purpose is to share the bliss of the couple's journey with guests, to share where they started their couplehood and how they have come so far. It's supposed to lend a warm and personal touch, a love story told through pictures.

Most friends I know aren't too sentimental about this, and not a few even had their friends do the slideshow for them. I often wonder if the couple gave some thought to the photos that were selected for the slideshow though. For they have to select a few choice photos to cover their entire life thus far, from pre-birth (that is, their parents!) to birth to toddler to school to army to university to - the list goes on. Yet there's only time and space for that many photos to be shown. Would they care to choose something memorable or signifcant, something that captures a part of their life journey before they now turn into someone's husband or wife? (It is noteworthy that all photo slideshows start with the groom, then followed by the bride - how typical of our paternalistic tradition!)

Truth be told, the only times when I enjoyed viewing such slideshows are at the wedding dinners of close friends. That's because I feel a closer connection, naturally.

Last year, I was at Cal's wedding dinner. The lights dimmed, the slideshow began to play. I was expecting the usual, to see a toddler grow to a young man to the transformed husband of somebody today. What I did not expect was to see a photo of Cal, Ts and me come up on screen. It was totally unexpected, and I didn't know if I was surprised or touched. It was silly because I didn't think C thought of anything about the photo. In fact, it's probably randomly selected. This much about C I know.

Nevertheless, I was struck by the photo. It was taken nearly 10 years ago, at a time when we were trouble free (compared to now) and clowning around like nobody's business. Our hair was long - mine was highlighted even - and we wore clothes that no self-respecting youth of today would be spotted in in public. It was also a time before we own mobile phones or digital cameras, before we learnt to drive, much less own a car. We were waiting for enlistment and had lots of time to kill.

But more than all this, that was a photo that bears proof of the friendship we once shared, before we each went our very different way, until today when one of us was going to embark on another different stage in life.

I have nearly forgotten about the photo - until it appeared on the big screen, right before nearly 400 guests. It caught me there.

I see stars above

I remember the moment well. We were to set off at 11pm, our faces camoflagued (the great morale depressor), equipment on, reluctant bodies squatting by the side of the dirt track. The order to move would come next, then our tired bodies would nudge. This was the moment we had been dreading and absolutely detested: the start of zombie walking through the night till daylight, trudging through inhospitable terrain and fending off invisible undergrowth that obstructs and frustrates. It's an all too familiar process.

For now though, we had a rare few hours to rest. The sweltering heat during the day had finally given way to a more humane temperature under the cover of darkness. We were spread out on the grass patch in front of a disused block meant for troops training. Now and then pockets of chatter and laughter could be heard from the area. Most people, however, were just resting and trying to catch a few winks of sleep.

Like the others, I was lying on the grass and trying to catch some sleep. But no matter how I shut my mind or forced my eyes closed, sleep simply eluded me. I look up from my position once, and all I saw was a vast blue sky, illuminated by a galaxy of stars. I felt a little excited: when was the last time I was lying down and seeing a sky filled with stars?

Even though I was not in an enviable situation now, it was good to be able to see beauty, to see the wonders of nature. There were so many stars in the sky, and the ignorant me was wondering just how many stars could there be up there. Swept up in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, I have long not seen stars and nearly forgotten the joy of admiring them. This was a moment I knew I would remember.

As I continued staring into the vast space above me, I noticed one bright spot that was slowly but surely moving across the sky. A plane, I thought. Instantly, like how a television show or movie could transport one scene to another, I imagined myself seated on a plane, taking a window seat, staring down from miles and miles above ground. I recalled the times when I took the plane in the past year, and at that moment I yearned to be flying again. If only I could change position there and then, seated on the plane heading to a foreign destination, instead of lying on a grass patch waiting for a dreadful journey.

I was feeling wistful, and quite happy at that. The next time I am on the plane, I shall again recall that moment, staring out of the window and looking far below while doing so. I shall imagine that someone is lying on the grass far below, looking up at the tiny plane that is creeping across the black sky.

Rijeka

"Like Opatija, much of Rijeka's architecture is reminiscent of the glory days of the Hapsburgs. But unlike Opatija, most of Rijeka's buildings haven't been renovated in the last century or so, giving it a seedy, gritty, past-its-prime feel. Avoid Rijeka if you can. However, since it's a major transportation hub, there's a good chance you'll pass through."

The advice was to 'avoid Rijeka if (we) can'. But we couldn't. It was late in the afternoon and we were hurrying to the bus stop to catch the (last?) bus. We had been walking the whole afternoon, taking in the beauty of the Plitvice lakes. Now, carrying our backpacks, we were making haste as the rain drummed down on our weary bodies.

As our trusty travel bible explains, Rijeka is a transportation hub which we need to get to in order to get to other towns. Zagreb is much further east, Pula and Rovinj are on the western coast, and Rijeka is somewhere in the middle. Time is not on our side, so we decided we shall spend the night in Rijeka before continuing our journey the next morning. In any case, we plan our journey by the day, so pretty much anything goes.



Arrival

It was 8 plus at night, and we finally arrived at Rijeka, but with a slight apprehension. I mean, the book's advice is 'to avoid Rijeka if you can'. That says something, doesn't it? As the bus navigates the fringe towards the city centre, I could feel the words of the guidebook coming alive. 'Past-its-prime', 'gritty' - these words were reverberating through the lifeless buildings, inanimate rail tracks, dilapidated houses and pitch-black streets that passed us by.

The echo of the words continued after we alighted the bus, but it was the 'seedy' part this time that rang through. Hungry and tired from a full day of journey, we wanted to find accommodation quickly. But the tourist information center was closed, and the computer directory (if I remember there was one) wasn't very helpful. As we stood pondering our options, the young girl sitting at the pub beside us accosted us. She had streaks of highlighted hair, and her company at the pub was a man many years her senior and probably old enough to be her father.

She came to us and offered us her parent's place for accommodation. We had concerns, and it was later that I realised my companions weren't comfortable with her, given her dubious credentials. Still, we followed her to her apartment to check out the place. I think before we reached her place though, we had already made up our mind that we would try other places. For we walked through a desolate street that was dimly lit (to be fair, most of the streets were like that), giving us the creeps and imagination to think of all reasons to flee the place. We were after all in a city that the travel bible advises its disciples to avoid.

Dodgy Fugitive Hideout



Suffice to say that we were very blessed to subsequently meet with a wonderful soul. Hungry, tired and faced with the prospect of not being able to find lodging, we finally managed to get a room of affordable price at a somewhat dodgy-looking motel which JG described as a 'dodgy fugitive hideout'. This was solely the result of a kind lady who is the staff of a hotel which we did not stay at because we could not afford it. Despite not becoming her customers, she helped us call the dodgy motel and reserved what later seemed to be the last available room (a family had arrived at the motel the same time as us but was turned away). Not only that, but she also helped us flag a taxi and gave the driver directions. We were totally impressed and grateful to the lady, who had tirelessly assisted us three Asians whom she could have ignored.

Highlights of staying at the dodgy fugitive hideout include a claustrophobic old-fashioned elevator that contributed to the dodgy vibes; JG using his limited polish vocabulary and colourful sign language to communicate with the matronly caretaker, who speaks not a word of English; boiling hot water using glasses heated in a mirowave; and eating whatever leftovers from the day to fill our stomachs. If it all sounds as if we were in a rather pathetic state, I guess we were to some extent. Even then i relished the experience and knew that I would remember that day for a long time. Five months down the road, I am writing this as if all the things had taken place only yesterday.

Check-out was early the following morning. Somehow, at the end of our trip, we all remarked that our holiday was shiong. We wanted to nuah and slack, but the trip was anything but. It was irony that I didn't mind though.

The next day

Having had a rough day yesterday, we agreed last night to have a proper breakfast, enjoy a cup of latte before we start the new day's journey. We so badly needed to recharge and pamper ourselves. Breakfast time was also when I could steal some time to take some quick snapshots of Rijeka. In the day, Rijeka looks just like other cities that we have been to or passed through. The buildings' architecture was reminiscent of an earlier era, and the scores of cafes injected much life and bustle into the city. This was after all the city centre, so it has much character and zest compared to the desolation and run-down images of other parts of the city.

We never planned to visit Rijeka, and indeed we only stayed for a night there. But boy, did it turn out to be an unforgettable experience. There's the uncertainty that inevitably accompanies a lack of planning for any trip, but this is also what provides the thrills and fun that would ultimately combine into making a lasting impression.

To the kind lady from the hotel whose name I now can't recall, THANK YOU so much. I hope you get promoted and take over the hotel and earn lots of money!


Artefact 1: damaged lift signal


Artefact 2: dodgy elevator


One of many stunning buildings


More like capitalist life or globalisation




Our breakfast: Toast and Latte/Capucino. Yum Yum.




Lots of cafes, but all had quite pricey menus


Blues Corner

Horrifyingly Funny

Games after dinner on Saturday was a lot of fun - and wit. Questions were asked, and answers were supposed to be either a Yes or a No. But so much more were being spoken. Unfortunately for the dark side, it did not triumph but was resoundingly ripped apart by the Goddess of Laughter and Fun.

The Invisible Man

SM: Is it a male?
The Others: Yes.
SM: Is it a movie character?
The Others: Yes.
SM: Does he have a girlfriend?
The Others: Er. No.
JU: But he is horny.
JW: That just about describes all guys.

Xiao Qian

JU: Is she female?
The Others: Yes.
JU: Is it horror or horrible?
The Others: Err. Not quite. Horror-Romance.
SM: This is a BIG clue.
JU: Is it King Kong?
JW: It's a FEMALE, remember?
LAUGHS.
CT: But King Kong doesn't carry any balls, right.
LAUGHS.

After surrendering...
JU: WHAT IS THIS??

Chucky

[Background: I came up with this but it was used by SM instead coz for this round we decided to go anti-clockwise and SM had to guess mine, which I had just checked with her. Damn Damn Damn. J couldn't guess it, which meant that's a GOOD one from me!]

After numerous questions and J still couldn't guess it, Death gave what he thought was an obvious hint.

JU: He procreates.
JW: What?

Harry Potter is NOT Hotter Horror
It is bad enough that I have a poor knowledge of horror movies and characters. And one would have thought that it's a good thing the person next to you is also bad at this. Wrong.

Apparently, the most horrible and horrifying characters SM only knew existed, or could ever recall, are those from the wizardry world who plot against the unhorrible boy called Harry Potter. Now, while I have a pretty superficial knowledge of Harry Potter - and I know the story does get very dark - I hardly think that Harry Potter is the stuff of horror genre. [Ok, though the first character I gave to JU was Casper, which is not horrifying in any way, at least it is still a GHOST, albeit a friendly one!]

So I failed to guess Snape for the first time. Then Voldemot was mentioned somewhere during the game. These two facts would have meant that Harry Potter should be thrown out of the window. But no. The third one, from SM, was - good lord - LORD VOLDEMOT.

Me: What? Harry Potter again?!
SM: Ayyah, what do you expect? I only know Harry Potter what..
Me: [transmitting shadowy punches to SM through the air]

The last day of October

The last day of October was spent catching up with some friends. Thanks to the overnight rain which chilled the air and cooled the ground, the morning weather was wonderful.

I am sure I've written before, that October feels like a month in limbo. It marks the start of the final quarter, yet it does not quite herald the year end. Come November however, things will be in an upswing as the impending Christmas hovers in the air.



On my way to J's home for Halloween dinner, I came across a patch of ground with fallen brown leaves  and green bamboo shoots, which reminded me of Autumn somehow. Good food was brewing in the kitchen when I arrived at J's place, and I knew there wasn't much for me to help even though I had offered to come earlier. I naively thought that arriving one or two hours early would be sufficient time to help with some simple tasks such as chopping the vegetables or onion. Obviously I ain't a cook. I did what I am only good at, which is to take pictures of the nice food waiting to be served.



Dinner was a cozy affair, with a visibly excited Death relishing his deadly role. One moment he is standing for long minutes in his uber-cool coat, the next moment he is speaking stealthily in hushed, creepy tone. During dinner, the host turned to Death and, without missing a beat, smiled slyly at his dark guest and said: 'The food's good enough for you to make a trip from the underworld eh?'.


The stately Death

Death himself was a man of no less wit. He was knowledgable about matters of the dark side and spoke with a deathly authority that reflects confidence and quick-thinking. When the host's Missus declined to eat the crunchy, succulent pork, Death was quick to quip: 'You've got to eat it. It's got the souls of the slaughtered pigs. You can hear the pigs screaming when you eat it.' With that, he resumed eating with a sense of normalcy as if he had never stopped eating to make any remarks. I tried to banish any thoughts of slaughted chickens and repressed souls, and promptly gluped down the chicken meat in my throat.


Can you see the souls of the pigs?


Heat produces great things


Roasted Pumpkin

On another horrifying guest, whose quiet belies a sense of keen observation and clever thinking, the host recounted this to me earlier before his lazy guests arrived:

JW: He says he would be wearing what a typical Singaporean wears.
JW: I told him can he at least come in what a typical SCARY Singaporean wears.
ME: And that is?
JW: All white.

Amidst all that taking place in the completely sealed dungeon, creepy music was being played, and a natural ally was found in the conspiratorial rain and thunder blasting outside.

But make no mistake, it was far from being a horrible evening.

Drained

It's been quite a week. A week of I-don't-know-the-day-and-time anymore, with the day moving on without my consicous knowing, so that Night arrived each day as if it were but an extension of Day.

Monday was a public holiday and I was back in office but ended up with a situation that made the trip futile. Tuesday, I did not have time for lunch and left office at 11.30ish to catch a cab home, so that I didn't have to incur the midnight charges.

Wednesday and Thursday were a different story: I needed more than anything else to have more time, and so for the first time I left office close to 2am on both days. My eyes were so strained from staring at the computer screen into the late night that I had to wash my face several times to make sure I could still feel and think with some degree of clarity.

Yesterday was slightly better, only because I have a weekend to carry on the week, so I left office at 11.40pm. I also had no time for lunch (again) on Friday, if only because things were so urgent and there so were many tasks that needed attention all at the same time, I just hadn't any moment to stop. When SX last week told me that she left office at 3-4plus, I countered it was no consolation because I (a) can't claim my cab fare and (b) she probably earns thrice as much as I, so that's no consolation at all.

Surprisingly though, I am not feeling bitter. It's very bad, but this will come to pass. There are still many unsettled matters and in a short while I will be making my way back to office - yes - again. The one thing that upsets me most is that because of the trip and now this project, I haven't had any exercise or sports for nearly two months. I am most upset with the fact that I may not be able to run the marathon this year because training has completely been derailed. It's depressing to know that I can't better my timing this year. What's more, the absence of regular training means that I may not even be able to run any long distance, not to mention the marathon.

In any case, you now know it. If there hadn't been any updates or photos, it's because of this.

Shiok

The word 'shiok' in singlish has no comparable equal in the English language. Yet it is such a wonderfully economical and succint word that vividly expresses the idea of relish and great delight, words which, even as I explain now, do not quite fully convey the flavour of the term 'shiok'.

I spent this Saturday lounging at home, doing nothing save lying in bed for most part of the day, drifting in and out of semi-sleep whilst reading parts of my books and magazines.

The local word which aptly describes what all these activities amount to is this: Nuah-ing. It was simply, absolutely, Shiok! (Saying 'wonderful' doesn't quite do it, for it does not capture the tinge of gleefulness and the intensity of the feeling. Ditto for words like 'awesome' and 'great'; and even if one were to add intensifiers like 'absolutely' or 'superbly' to the words, it still doesn't cut it.)

I've had too many packed weekends for the past two months and this was the first time I had nothing on my weekend agenda. Just doing nothing and having no plans is a luxury these days. Like I told R and KT the day before, I don't like to go through my weekend engaging in many activities and feeling at the end of it, on Monday, drained and not having had a good rest. A weekend can have activities, but it should be restful and recuperative too.

My Saturday ended with a trip to the nearby mall. I wouldn't have gone there had I not have to run an errand. It turned out to be a pleasant affair, for I wasn't met with the mad crowds that are a feature of the said mall. After buying the necessary, I decided to enjoy some tea and toast bread. Thankfully there was no queue and there were seats. I made a wrong order and had twice the number of slices of bread than usual. But this being such a SHIOK Saturday, it didn't bother me and I quite happily finished all of them.

Shiok!

Tuesday, 30 June 2009

Came out of meeting to be greeted by nice little big cupcake hidden in the pristine box. It was past 2pm and I hadn't had lunch. JP had left this on my desk, with a note that bears his trademark wit. I don't have the note now, but it goes something like this: 'i know this is not quite the cupcake from Jones, but you see i can't travel that far.' Nice one there, but the post-it could have been a better one to do justice to the words, you know. ;p But thanks, it's a pocket of surprise that brought a smile to me. By the way, the cupcake's huge.



Always notice and pay attention to details around you. Lovely things and surprises may just be round the corner, or laying somewhere waiting to be discovered. They cost nothing and pay good happiness dividends. Like this evening scene at 7pm that drew my gaze as i walked back to office from the toilet. The soft rays were peeking out of the mushroom clouds and the patch of red hinted of sunset, even as i looked at this from the inside of a concrete building in the midst of an urban jungle.

(In case you are wondering, no, I don't carry my camera when i go to pee. Don't say you imagine that's possible; that's NOT. I just quickly grabbed my camera out from the office. Oh, and the circular light, that's a reflection of the corridor light.)



Sometimes after work, I don't like to return home immediately, just to break the routine of everyday drudgery: wake up; go to work; knock off; go back home; go to bed. (For that matter, im still up at 2am writing this.) This being Little Red Dot with Little Night Life, there aren't that many places to go. I took the train down, alighted at Orchard Road, swung into the mall that was going to shut down, then inevitably concluded my sojourn at Borders.

Again, look around you, take pause for there're always things to see. I saw Ion Orchard, its intricate, dazzling lights sparkling and shimmering. I don't like big shopping malls (more in terms of patronising them), but I have to concede that Ion Orchard might just bring or return the sparkle to Orchard Road. This place is the shopping district, so it doesn't matter if another mall is added. For the brief interlude, i let the shimmering lights bedazzle me. Ah yes, that word that the marketing guys use, bedazzle. This being a Tuesday night, it helps that the crowd is absent. That afforded me some quiet.



I turned the corner, then noticed that there will be another connector soon enough, surely. Another point of connect that adds to the network and labyrinth of passages to allow seamless flow of Gen X, Y and Z. After innumerous brave attempts, I finally captured the moving words ION. Done. Now it's time to cross that most certainly well-used junction by pedestrains, over to the site of ION Orchard. A capsule, ion-like structure lay before me, and I walked right into it, down the escalator into the central node of Little Red Dot's Shopping district. The story ends here.