Depreciation and Appreciation

We were at a petrol kiosk refueling the car. That's when I spotted ZM, an ex-secondary schoolmate of ours, who was in front of our car topping up petrol.

Adr called out his name, whereupon ZM expressed surprise and came over to say hi. Meanwhile, LS and I had stayed inside the car. I don't know ZM personally, so only Adr and LS did the talking.

"My, he has depreciated," LS remarked almost matter-of-factly after ZM left. "He was actually one of the better looking guys when we were in primary school."

"Depreciated. Wah, must you use this term on him?" Adr replied as he started the engine.

I was amused and can't help but ask, "So have we depreciated also?"

She chuckled before saying, "No, you guys have appreciated."

I must say that sounds positively reassuring.

Loss for words

Although I am able to access the internet everyday, it's been such a long time since i browsed the usual blogs and websites that i once visited every now and then. Not to mention paying to a visit to this blog. There was no dust to shake off, but it feels like I have chanced upon an old, abandoned diary. The past entries are still accessible, but one is hesistant to read them, as if they recorded shameful secrets that are best dusted down memory lane.

Perhaps it is as well that now is 2.30am. I didn't intend to stay up till this late. I certainly didn't intend to blog. Reading someone's blog, i was inspired to write something; but when i finally started typing away, words seem to elude me. Now's a good time to stop - and go to bed, i guess.

Enjoy your work(.)(?)

Some of my friends on hearing where i work remark that my job seems to be or sounds like the kind of job that I like. It always makes me wonder if it's the job that gives the impression or are there some traits which people associate with me that lead them to make that assessment so readily. I mean, how much do they know about the nature of my work to form that opinion?

And when asked that dreaded question Do you like your job? I am inevitably at a loss of words. I become hesistant. As with so many questions in life, it's never a clear-cut Yes or No. Even to my colleagues whom I know silently measure me by my words, I never offer an enthusiastic 'yes' even though this would have been a politically-correct and easy answer. I have to be truthful with myself.

I once heard that in order to get the job you want - it was at a career seminar - you need to have three As: Aspiration, Ability, Action. You need to have a goal, an aspiration which sets out what you want to achieve. Then you need to possess the abilities required to help you achieve your goal. So for instance, a person who desires to be a doctor must possess medical skills; someone who aspires to be a writer would need to have real writing abilties. As for action, it is necessary to help translate your abiltiies into real output, to materialise your dream, so to speak.

But what if I want to achieve something but i realise i only possess two of the three As? What if i aspire to be something, i worked for it - but only to realise that I lack the ability? The purpose of the three As as a concept is that it helps us manage our expectations and make realistic decisions about what we want and can do in life.

I also came across a blogger who wrote: What you are good at, you may not enjoy doing; what you enjoy doing, you may not be good at.

How true.

Times have changed

Whatever happened to Times Bookshop at Centrepoint? I headed there after work last week to get wrapping paper and was quite surprised to see that its retail space has shrunk, drastically. It used to occupy two floors but now it's almost one-fifth of its erstwhile size, or maybe even smaller. I'm not sure if it's going to be shifted to the new extension of Centrepoint or that is the permanent state; heck, i didn't even realise it has downsized! If the change is permanent, i think it's a matter of time before the current minuscule retail space gives way to something else. The location of Times Bookshop, both in Orchard Road and within Centrepoint, simply does not favour good business. With Borders and Kino as the dominant players, other bookstores are just going to find it extremely hard to increase their market share. Methinks Times Bookshop lacks a core identity and brand appeal - so important in today's business - to win over more customers.

Feeling out

After a while, it became quite apparent that i shouldn't have come. I was like a solitary peasant in an aristocratic group, or a piece of chinese chess amidst several pieces of English chessmen. The incongruity extends to our dress attire: I was the only one in business wear - having come down from work - they in casual clothes. I wasn't made to feel out of place, but the unfortunate fact is that I am out of place. The conversations were spontaneous and free-flowing, laughter aplenty, setting cozy (8 of us around a table by the pool). But i hardly contributed to the converstations, and lesser still to the laughter that erupted every few minutes.

They recounted scandals of classmates, traded comments, shared knowing jokes, and contested opinions; I tried my best to look comfortable and involved, recalled hard some of the names that surfaced, and smiled weakly when smart jibes and jokes were exchanged. Their openness and unreserved comments spoke of the camaraderie that was forged in the past few months, during which their interaction must have been intense and extensive, as necessitated by the structure of the course; my silence and loss showed the extent to which i had distanced from them and from studies.

As the night stretched on, it became more painful for me. I couldn't partake in the conversations because I barely knew the issues and people they spoke about. They talked with much vigour, laughed heartily, while I looked cheerless, tired from the long day at work. It was all the more awkward for me because we were a small group, huddled round a retangular wooden table with drink bottles and unfinished pizza on it. And so i could only sit and listen, hoping my odd presence would be forgotten. I thought of leaving early a few times but decided against it as that would only reveal my uneasiness and accentuate my sense of alienation. But I wasn't deluded: much as i knew how out of place i was, they must have also felt the same of me; decorum forbids them to make any mention of my obvious silence and displacement.

Finally time was on my side. Sensing it was an appropriate moment to announce my departure, I excused myself and told them i had to catch the last train - which was true. I bade them farewell, the host thanked me for coming, then I walked down the slope and out of the gate, hastening my steps as I moved further away from them, further from the isolation and sense of unbelonging that engulfed me the whole time i was there.

work and movie

One of the perks of working in Orchard Road, I found out recently, is that i am asked (out of convenience) to watch movies more frequently than if i were to work in, say, Jurong or Tampines. Not that I'm such a good company, but because when people get FREE movie tickets at the last minute and need to find a movie-mate, it might be wise (calculated) of them to ask a friend who works in the bustling shopping district if he would like to catch a (free) show. Cathy CineLeisure seems to be giving out plenty of movie tickets, for free. Either that or my friends - boss included - are such lucky (well-connected) people who get complimentary (free) movie tickets every now and then.

All (three) in a day

ONE. The train slowed to a halt as it pulled into the station. Then the doors opened, and people filled up the empty spaces like atomic particles rushing to occupy a vacuum that's suddenly opened up.

I looked up from my seat and instantly, I recognised the lady. She was one of the first to enter the train, no doubt because she must have waited at the edge of the platform where she would be able to enter first. Quick and determined, she moved quickly towards the centre of the carriage and stood with her stocky frame firmly before me. Within a few seconds, whilst some people were still inching their way in at the doors, she had already taken out her book - a chinese romantic novel, it seemed, the type that has words running from top to bottom, right to left - and continued where she had last finished.

At the next station, the person seated to my left alighted, and she moved to occupy the seat. Nothing special or unusual about the lady, just that this encounter had occurred the day before, exactly as it had happened today. On two consecutive mornings, i was to meet the same lady who stood before me, then sat next to me after my neighbour alighted, and on the same side of me to boot. I wonder if she had noticed the young man next to her was the same person she stood in front of and then sat next to in two days.

TWO. Lunchtime. We took a cab to Bugis Junction for lunch. I was mildly surprised at bumping into her (my secondary school classmate) and even more surprised that she was in casual clothes more suited for wearing at home. But that still wasn't the most surprising thing.

"Aren't you working today?" I asked.

"Oh, I had my wedding banquet here (Hotel Continental) yesterday," she smiled.

"You were here for a wedding banquet yesterday?" I queried, not sure if i heard the right thing, but no doubt sounding very silly.

She smiled even more cheerfully, then repeated somewhat more slowly, "I had my wedding banquet here yesterday."

My eyes widened as I offered my hand to congratulate her. It was an afternoon like any other day. But today I met a former classmate, same age as me, who just tied the knots yesterday, and is now a wife of somebody. Of course she's not the only person of my age who I knew has renounced her single status. But it was nevertheless a huge surprise to meet a friend who's newly married just a day ago. I was introduced to her husband - a fine young chap who spots an honest, well-mannered look. My friend had just deposited what must be a generous sum of ang pow money received the night before. For she was all smiles throughout our conversation.

THREE. On the train, again. I - seated down, again. The train doors opened, and a familiar figure moved past me towards the centre of the carriage. I slapped her hand lightly; she turned and greeted me with a surprised look.

"See, it's fate that we have to meet this week," I happily remarked. (Val wasn't able to join the group of us for dinner on Sat.)

I was tired but happy to catch up with her for the rest of the journey.

So much for coincidence. All in a day.

Trivia

I thought about setting up another blog where i could, on a more regularly basis, drop a few lines, rant about the day's work and write other trivial stuff which no one but myself would bother. I have in mind not a diary of my daily life, just a space where i could write about little, inconsequential thoughts that randomly run through my mind now and then. Like how i am so glad to be wearing berms and slippers on weekends because i'm in shirt and stiff shoes the rest of the week. Or how I realise i take the mrt without even looking at the signboards because I knew intuitively which direction to head towards the correct platform. I wish to tell a colleague - anyone - that i see this same guy having his breakfast at the kopitiam at our building so often that i wonder if he never got sick of eating the same food every day, or so it seems. But i never did.

I don't wish to get started on all these trivia here at this blog because i never meant this blog for that purpose. But i am also too tired (lazy) to search for another blog site. So, for better or for worse, I may be writing more often, albeit short entries which are possibly insignificant observations. I just badly need to write - write about topics which are not official, not work-related, not business-like. I really do.

Sat late night

It's been a long time since i stayed out so late - late, meaning any time after 1am. I was with L at Wala Wala and we left the place after the Unexpected performed their final set for the night. Because we sat near the amplifier, we couldn't really talk while the band was playing. But like the rest of the people in the bar, we were quite contented just listening to the band performing live. The music was awesome, it had our complete attention and there were many times when we felt like getting to our feet and dancing to the music. I haven't really been able to unwind like this since work started, and now being able to sit down, enjoy a beer and listen to a live band performance was a wonderful, wonderful experience. Not to mention the place is now smoke-free. :)

Jingle bells, jingle bells...

Chirstmas is nearing - I know, because i walk through the malls and along Orchard Road and the signs are everywhere, it's hard to miss them. The decorations and lightings in the street are up; the huge, familiar christmas tree in Ngee Ann City towers brilliantly, mesmerising shoppers who pass by, many of whom pause to take a picture of it; and the pop CDs playing in the malls have given way to christmas jingles. I appreciate the changing atmosphere, all the visible signs telling me the year-end is just around the corner, that it's celebration time. In a way, i allow these details to lull me into a joyous mood, and i suspect this is supposed to make me more generous with my spending! Already, I've bought two tins of cookies of which one has been given to a friend. But then, it wasn't because of the christmas setting that led to the purchase; it's just that the macadamia white cookies are so good i couldn't resist the urge to get some for friends. :p

In transit

I’ve been busy. My life has just entered a new stage, and I am slowly adjusting. Faced with new realities, confronted with plausibly unexciting prospects, I find myself pondering often about life choices. This is not necessarily a bad thing, though it makes one weary at times, especially when there aren’t that many exciting choices at one’s disposal. I only hope that things will improve, that I will settle into the present state soon enough and enjoy doing the stuff I enjoy, like writing for leisure. I also miss the long, idle hours spent reading books and doing sports like swimming – and the occasion run. These days, I am just too tired to do anything.

Re: MM Lee's remarks and his reply to Malaysian PM

This follows from my previous post on the issue.

MM Lee's reply to Malaysian PM Abdullah was published in the ST on 3 October. There are a few insights to be gleaned from the contents of his letter and its impressive annex.

It was obvious right from the start that MM Lee's remarks would not be to the liking of Singapore's neighbours. Yet, I believe, it was never MM Lee's intention to criticise them. (I am not saying this in defence of him; indeed i believe Singapore, in terms of its bilateral relations with its neighbours, would do better without those remarks from the MM.) He was being merely characteristically blunt and candid, and by pointing out (in his letter to Malaysian PM Abdullah Badawi) that he made those remarks in a "free-flowing dialogue", it was meant to convey the message that they were not made as criticism.

One may recall that MM Lee made those controversial remarks at a diaglogue on good governance. Though the ensuing controversy was in the main about race relations in Singapore's neighbouring states, relevant to the context in which he made those remarks, he made an important point on the kind of government Singapore needed owing to its geo-ethno environment: it was a government that was "really firm, stout-hearted, subtle and resolute". However, this message was ultimately drowned by the reasoning MM Lee provided to prove his point. In a somewhat ironic twist, the ensuing furore in Malaysia created a situation that seemed apt for MM Lee to demonstrate the essence of his remarks. His published reply to Malaysian PM Abdullah Badawi - made in a personal capacity, not government - seemed to bear out his advice.

At the dialogue session before a foreign audience who were in Singapore attending the IMF/World Bank meetings, MM Lee made reference to racial relations in neighbouring states to explain why Singapore needed a "firm, stout-hearted, subtle and resolute" government; such a government is needed in order to manage the Republic's relations with its neighbours. His view is that the attitude of Malaysia and Indonesia towards the Republic is shaped by their treatment of their minority Chinese. He had no need to make use of that occasion to pass those remarks as pointed criticism for a Malaysian or Indonesian audience, much less to court controversy or provoke anger - for he had merely repeated a position which he has always maintained, which is public knowledge. This was why in his letter he mentioned, significantly, that "I have not said anything more than what I have said many times before".

(But MM Lee more than anyone else should be acutely aware that for a topic as volatile and sensitive as racial politics, people are not given to cerebral and level-headed thinking. Aggrieved parties would likely find cause with his statement while those in power would vehemently refute it.)

More interestingly, his letter to Malaysian PM Abdullah Badawi reminded one of how much he is still the firm, legalistic and formidable politician who more than any Singaporean was personally and inextricably embroiled in bilateral politics between Singapore and Malaysia since their separation in 1965. His impeccable mind and steadfastly-held beliefs are apparent in his letter. He knew the Malaysian media well and knew that nothing short of an apology ("sorry") would ameliorate the damage his remarks had inadvertently caused. Indeed, Malaysian papers reportedly gave front-page prominence to his apology to PM Abdullah for causing him 'a great deal of discomfort'.

Yet, as most would have noted, MM Lee was 'sorry' for the discomfort that his remarks brought on the Malaysian PM, not for his view on how the Chinese minority were marginalised. He did not change his view, and PM Abdullah in his public reply noted that too. In fact, true to his lawyer credentials, his letter carried an impressive annex that produced evidence supporting his expressed position. For the discerning reader, the detailed information in the annex, presented in a matter-of-factly manner, was meant to address various charges, including but not limited to those that criticised MM Lee for interfering in Malaysia's politics.

MM Lee said that Singapore needed a "really firm, stout-hearted, subtle and resolute" government to maintain relations with its neighbours. His letter, which underscores his response to an official reaction from neighbouring states, showed what and how it takes to be all that. He was 'firm' and 'stout-hearted' in that despite the unhappiness and furore that erupted in Malaysia, he held on to his position and explained the context in which he made those remarks, thereby registering the point that he, as a leader of Singapore, was not making remarks which had no basis whatsoever; he did not retreat. He was 'subtle' and 'resolute' in that he understood what is at stake - the possible jeopardising of bilateral relations - and made an apology without compromising his integrity. And thus he ended his letter saying, "after a decade of troubled relations with your predecessor, it is the last thing i wanted." This is an acknowledgement of the improved relations Singapore has enjoyed with Malaysia since PM Abdullah took over Dr Mahathir as Malaysian Prime Minister, and it also subtly reiterates the point he wanted to impress upon PM Abdullah Badawi and others: that he said those remarks not to provoke, nor to inflame feelings, and certainly not to undermine bilateral relations.

That the matter did not become yet another bilateral problem and is now closed is to the good of bilateral relations between both states.

Caged Indifference

The old man, easily in his late fifties and a little plump, shuffled into the train. Spotting an empty seat, he moved quickly to claim possession. He had a bird cage in one hand, which he put on his lap after he had comfortably settled down. A piece of cloth covered the cage completely, such that no part of the interior is exposed. He had two other similarly covered cages, which were kept inside a large rectangular HP carrier bag meant for storing a tower case. And what a perfect fit it was, the two cages fitting exactly into the bag, as though it was made specially for holding bird cages.

He kept the bag close to his legs, and he did this with little fuss. It was merely a few seconds from the time he sat down to his making some minor adjustments – indeed, it couldn’t have been more than five seconds. All this while, and after having settled down, he kept a curiously nonchalant look, never turning his head once to check if his neighbours might feel any discomfort with the unusual items in his possession. There’s a certain focus and swiftness about his actions that suggested that he carries those cages and travels on the train quite frequently, perhaps on a daily basis.

His neighbours were a middle-aged lady, seated to his right, and, on the other side, a young man who looks around thirty-years old. The latter was asleep, his arms folded and his head resting against the windowpane. The lady seemed unbothered by the bird cages at first, until a distinct chirping sound emanated from the cages. This caught her attention, and she started to glance discreetly, almost awkwardly, at the bird cage next to her, as though she were looking out for the flight of the chirping animal from its enclosure. She was guarded and restrained, looking out from the corner of her eye, conscious not to reveal to her stern-looking neighbour her sudden-found uneasiness.

As the chirping persisted, so did her furtive glances; it had her complete attention for the rest of the journey. Yet her silence and disconcerted gazes did not grow into any overt displeasure. She seemed uncomfortable having to travel alongside an unexpected creature on an afternoon train ride, but it must have been bearable - for she had continued to remain where she was, even if she were silently suffering.

Meanwhile, the old man had the bird cage firmly held on his lap, his countenance impassive, body erect. He was oblivious of the sideward glances his neighbours had been casting by all this while. Whereas the lady was visibly affected by the bird cages and the sounds that came from them, he, placidly still in his seat throughout, was her perfect foil. Or, one wonders, was this a practiced indifference? The young man next to him was undisturbed, indulging in a nap that was uninterrupted by chirping sounds next door.

A few stations later, the lady got up and disembarked, finally relieved of the indignity of having to sit next to some birds on a train. At this moment, the old man sprang into action, as if suddenly awakened from a spell. He moved quickly to his left to occupy the lady’s seat, which was at the corner of the row. Displaying the same swiftness as he did when he first sat down, this time he could afford more room to move his legs. He looked around for a while, and appeared satisfied in his new seat.

No one took the seat next to him after that, at least not until I got off the train a few stops later. I wonder how many stations more would it be before the old man finally alighted – with the bird cages and the chirping bird(s) inside them.