no write

a host of reasons has kept me away from blogging, but mainly it's because i am feeling rather weary of many things. Being the very perfectionist me, i don't want to ramble aimlessly when the inspiration for writing is sorely absent.

I opened and read an email sent by a friend a long time ago, and there i was, smiling at his words which are all so knowingly foreboding:

"well in the US, people generally avoid courses where there are singaporeans. of course it's not the same for me, coz i'm so lousy that even the americans beat me! ugh... all my top boy genes go down the drain already. sad man. can't wait for graduation, really. wq you're almost there! after that can do all the exciting things like circling ads in the news paper and all that....

"so anyway, hope you have a great year ahead, hope nothing gets in your way and hope the years pass by like scenery in a moving car!"

Well...it's always the little notes, emails and words that people have said which bring a cheer to you whenever you recall them. words can fail us at times yet they also convey so much and make us go through the gamut of emotions - laughter, pain, anger, excitement etc.

my friend who wrote that note, he writes great poetry and songs, and he is able to create refreshing metaphors that are always so delightful, that have the capacity to move and leave a deep impression. I don't know if my years will pass by like scenery in a moving car, but i hope the engine of the car will be sturdy so that it will not cause car-breakdown so often along the long journey ahead of me.

well kept secrets

It's that time of the year again when you do your personal stocktaking. You dig into the deepest corners of your cupboards and drawers, rummaginng through old stuff that comprises old keepsakes as well as dusty albums, notebooks and what not. Not that you wanted very much to go through this tiring ritual, but you needed to clear away or rearrange your personal items to create badly-needed space for new additions.

Many of the things you find, they probably have little or no practical value. But you are loath to discard them. Some things, you can't just justify their utility (or lack thereof) based on hard-headed rationality. It isn't just about precious memories of the past, of people and of incidents, that make you cling to them. Often, you are reluctant to part with them because to do so would be akin to a seeming act of self-betrayal, as if you have decided to sever important links that reside in those items which, over the years, have been relegated to obscure corners in your room.

In a bid to free up space on my cluttered work desk, i once again opened up all my drawers and cupboards, surverying how i shall go about to create additional space. Each time i do this, i am surprised that there actually are still things which i can afford to throw away, even if this seemed to be forced by circumstances. It's either because i take a longer time to convince myself that such and such actually has no use anymore, or that i have unknowingly discriminated against my possession, deciding that certain things are more important than the rest. The truth is probably something simpler: i have accumulated too much rubbish which hasn't been disposed of, and now's the time to act.

In the midst of my clearing the cupboard, i found certain things that got me re-acquainted with my early years all over again. Things which are probably worthy of grandfather stories many years down the road; things which may find unlikely historical value thrust upon them with the passing of time. First i took out a small box out of a yet bigger shoe box used to keep various little items. The small box contains phonecards which i used to collect at a time when it was still fashionable and obligatory to use public phones. There are so many of them, i wonder who i had called up when they were in use. Of course, many of them were taken from my mum after she had used them. Judging from the value of the cards, one wonders if the amount spent on purchasing them is not comparable to the mobile phone bills that are chalked up presently.

But i digress. Collecting phonecards is a simple hobby that i had picked up at an age when one is given to collecting all kinds of things, in part because there were limited entertainment and activities. Certainly it's not the forgettable memories of using smelly public phones that had me collecting them. New and different designs of phone cards were released frequently and different priced cards had different designs. Typically, the higher valued ones like $10 or $20 have prettier designs. These were the ones that i could only check out at the shops but otherwise had no money to buy. I also had no wish to purchase them. By buying the $2 and $3 ones, which would be used up in a shorter time, i would be able to own more cards. This, to a young boy who thinks only in terms of numbers - the bigger the better - is of course more important than owning exotic designed cards. I remember the different designs often fascinate me, not unlike how a child gets excited over worthless stickers (which become destroyed the sooner they come into his possession). Aesthetically, the phone cards are very appealing. Sometimes they have pictures of animals or vintage vehicles, other times they are simply portraits of different aspects of Singaporean life.

At some point of time, however, mobile phones become cheap enough for widespread possession and use. It wasn't a sudden realisation that i had ceased collecting phonecards (because they were no more), nor did the realisation ever really sink into my consciousness. It's the kind of thing which will just fade away quietly, until one day you rediscover them and reminisce about their history.

Not just my collection of phonecards, but i have also old watches, key chains, an unfunctioning pager, etc. etc. These are the things which i probably will never throw away unless a fire breaks out in my home one day and burns everything (Choi!).

the aftermath

Post marathon, i felt like i have dutifully finished the second round of examinations, that with its completion my holidays can finally be said to begin proper. Just like the school exams that i've had, the run on Sunday was an anticipated event, one that awaited to be finished with the full knowledge that once it's over all suffering would end. I make it sounds like i've been put through great misery that is of my own doing, but this is not true. Yes, my legs have been aching since after the run yesterday and, yes, the run was painful indeed. But as others who have taken part and who did their best would have you know, nothing beats the euphoria of having accomplished a marathon. It's not everyday that one takes the effort (which is considerable in extent) to run such distance, especially when one is neither an athlete nor a runner by profession. What i want to say is that as the marathon is over now, this brings to a close a chapter of my life in year 2005, so to speak. My schedule for the remaining days of the year, as it is, is now free from events and appointments that invariably inundate our personal calender. Which is why while one is still a student, the school vacation is always a delightful prospect. It provides an important respite that allows the human body to rest and refuel, the human mind to reflect.

Training
Training for the marathon started in earnest in August, although this little fact gives a completely lopsided picture of the truth. Twice a week Jon, EY and I would run 8km round campus, and this culminated in our running the army half-marathon in September. After that, as school work caught up with all of us, the frequency of training inevitably took a plunge, especially the weeks just before the marathon. Our training was very inconsistently maintained, to say the least. If one were aiming for a personal best timing in the marathon, there's no doubt that a training regime has to be adhered to diligently. To that end, Jon and I were hardly harsh on ourselves because we didn't set out to run the fastest that we could - we had neither the drive nor the wish to achieve that.

Gungho EY
On the other hand, EY, who has run the Philadelphia marathon the year before, had great aspirations. I knew him through cycling but it was through our training for the marathon that i got to know him better. A focused, imaginative, confident and often humourous guy, he pursues his interests with great passion. So much so that it was in fact his enthusiasm and discipline that pushed Jon and i to keep up with the weekly training. Without his participation, i can safely say for myself and Jon that we would be taking things easy and would most certainly not have trained as diligently as we had. For he's the one who takes note of how fast or slow we run, whether our timing has deteriorated, makes plan for running progressively longer distance, etc. etc. This was a far cry from two years ago, when Jon and I ran the same marathon without any proper training.

Race Day morning: Deja Vu
430am - i reached the stadium just in time before the chartered bus was about to leave. I wasn't feeling excited, nor was i worried. I got on the bus and was greeted by a scene reminiscent of army days. It was the wee hours of the morning, passengers on the bus were mostly - overwhelmingly - young males, and what's more, a quick scan on the bus registers the unmistakable observation that most of the fellow marathoners have very short and neat hair, not unlike that of a typcial soldier. Perhaps i shouldn't be surprised, since i've noticed that most people who do sports regularly tend to prefer to keep their hair short.

The Run
For the majority of us, when we attempt a difficult, unfamiliar or new task, especially one that challenges our comfort zone and mental strength, we are bound to feel jittery, excitement perhaps, a keen sense of anticipation definitely. I felt none of that before the race started nor during the race itself. I hadn't expected to. This being not the first marathon that i'm running, i had no mental barrier to overcome. I knew that with a comfortable pace the first 21km was going to be easy-going, even enjoyable. The sun's not out yet at 6am and you run in the early hours amid a city that gradually emerges from darkness to daylight, though in the midst of running you probably wouldn't bother to appreciate or notice the change. As the day slowly approaches noon the heat is acutely felt and makes every minute of your run increasingly unbearable. After the 30km mark every kilometer seems such a neverending stretch - there's a signboard showing the distance covered at every kilometer interval - that you begin to wonder whether the authorities have made a mistake with the measurement of distance. All this i had expected to face during the run, and all this i did experience on the actual run.

As EY so titled his blog post, 'doing it for the second time does not make it any easier', this is certainly true of my second attempt. Yet on hindsight, having done the marathon before makes you mentally prepared for the challenge. When every part of your leg aches terribly in protest while the scorching sun (the heat this year was exceptionally excruciating) hangs resolutely above throughout the morning, this calls for perseverance and self-motivation to work against conditions of adversity. It is when you merely have to grit your teeth and run on, resisting the constant urge to quit running and walk mostly for the remaining distance. Of course this is provided one has done sufficient training, for it would be utterly foolish to persist running and risk self-afflicted injuries if one wasn't prepared.

Why run a marathon then?
Firstly, i never aspire to run a marathon. Running certainly isn't my cup of tea. I find it a fairly monotonous activity and, besides, in the long term it does damage to your knees. i signed up because Jon wanted to, because two silly young men wanted to prove their worth while they still are able to do so. Secondly, because i need motivation to run regularly, which the marathon provided me with. It is a goal whose fufilment requires commitment and purposeful planning; it forces me to make a concious effort to run regularly. As someone who has to take the IPPT every year, it's important that i keep up with running, yet the problem is that i am not motivated to do so. Signing up to run a marathon helps in that sense. Above all, i run with my friends, something which is important because i just can't bring myself to run on my own. Having company is definitely essential for someone who lacks self-discipline.

In the end, i reckon i've never before clocked so much running mileage in a few months. Thanks to the company of Jon and EY, there was never a dull moment during our training.
Now, the third day after the marathon, i am quite fortunate and surprised that my legs have taken a shorter time to recover than the last time. I'm not sure if i would do it again next year, but if i were to, this time i would aim for a personal best timing - before my knees give way and age catches up.

Re: my tom yang diarrhoea friend

On msn with my tom yang diarrhoea friend:

gin: uncle where's the p-h-o-t-o?
him: still in the camera lol
gin: can u make urself a useful man
him: hmm
him: lazy to xfer until the card gets almost full haha
gin: ur holiday is going to be bad. Coz i say so. Coz u aren't uploading ur photos
him: choy
.
.
him: r u writing an email telling everyone abt my inefficiency at uploading photos
gin: i wasn't. but since u mentioned this, i shall blog about it

from where i live

It is not a breathtaking scene, just a typical view of the suburban landscape which I live in, very nondescript. You need not take a closer look to agree that its character is given by the ubiquitous HDB high-rise flats that litter the landscape. Incidentally, this is taken from the block which i live in. But I never find this scene that greets me everyday attractive, mainly because it is very ordinary, you can probably see this from any high-points in the heartland.

Whenever the sky turns ominously dark and heavy cumulus clouds hung threateningly low, however, i invariably find myself surveying the scene. It is a scene that is always there, unchanging no matter the days or months or years that have gone by. It was on one such occasion that it dawned on me how far and wide the landscape encompasses. There aren't any spectacular landmarks, nor are there verdant mountain tops or rivers within sight. But it is a reassuring sight whose vastness seems only visible when rain or stormy weather is imminent.

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.