2008

Here's looking at the longest yard from ground zero...

post christmas 07 / commonwealth stopovers

This year's Christmas dinner at Gene's was a pallid affair, with slightly less agreeable food than last year. The food from Meidi Ya was upscale - the excellent stuffing - but the desserts from The Nectarie sucked rather badly. En exercised his infant right to budge in loudly at all times...

Then Dor realised we forgot to pick up the $50 sushi - hence the mysterious pesty caller - so the rest piped down to Liang Court before 10 while I washed up and finished up The Incredibles alone. Anyone who thinks supping up a trayful of steep sushi at 11 AFTER A FULL COURSE Christmas dinner is impossible should have seen us go at it that night...

Nothing much else to remember by except maybe the nice, indulgent and sleep delaying long chat with Wee and Merv on places to tour and visit before the stupid US currency jacks back to life while Dor slumbered like an empress on the newly vacuumed rug.

* * * * *

Am getting the rest and chilling time I need this month before the lousy madness starts anew in about a week's time. Been shopping like a retail whore - mountain of clothes from Zara and FCUK and FINALLY that pair of soft cool loafs from Italy at HALF PRICE! - but strangely not up to binging as much as I used to. Could it be age, or just priorities...

* * * * *

Stay-overs at Grandma's flat are always like welcoming micromini getaways. Discovered the simple humanly functional joys such as breathing - been holding my breath and panting since starting in this fucking department half year ago - and walking slowly while taking in the foliage and shrubbery.

Loved dining in the morning at Ikea where it's quiet and deserted and still peppered with interesting characters (first words of specky skinny stick man clunking overfilled tray to seated wife and 2 daughters with fill-in-your-own-expression-and-tone look: You seriously expect me to take 4 trays of food back here by myself while you sit here? Is there any logic?)

From Grandma's flat to Vivo is such a breeze, though took a wee while for that breeze to blow my way lah. Dempsey never looked more invitingly near and enticing. Will be damned if I don't try that direct route to IMM one of the days.

Suddenly all roads lead to and from Commonwealth Drive... Yummy.

skin deep - belated thoughts observed

A South African Christian in a Chinese temple.

Nothing wrong with that. He could be a tourist whiling away his requisite itinerary in a foreign land.

Distinction is that he almost never smiles and is, I hazard, a rather devout Christian, as most South Africans are. I overheard their loud declarations on the unassailable truthful origins of (wo)mankind and left it at that...

But he's the silent type who doesn't trumpet his fucking faluting faith in annoyance to all around them. (He barely even smirked or grinned when he blew his surprise birthday cake while the rest of the troupe sang their hearts out in merriment. This is a heart that has never sighted a sleeve.)

Not rambunctious or loud or noisome like the most of the rest, quite the opposite. He has a reticent demeanour and a pair of very very severe eyebrows. Imagine a very round faced and tacit but tall Lawrence Fishburne with vulture eyes, pores oozing vaporous menace. Don't mess with me. White men and the whole world, beware.

Needless to say, I avoided him like the plague. The irony (or lack of it) is that he is the head of the delegation.

And irony turned on its head that morning, for me at least. It was what Oprah calls with thick cliche, my 'Crash' moment, a slap in the face of preconceived notions.

The 84 year old geezer of a tour guide rounded us at the Chinese temple. On hindsight, most of the Africans were fired up by the mention of the gods, in particular the god of wealth and prosperity and the goddess of mercy and peace. On hindsight, most things always fall clearly into place...

So they wondered in, religiously reading the plagues explaining the heavenly powers of each deity and taking photos, me busily fanning myself silly, wondering when we could scoot out of here, this stuffy humid wooden box, to the next perspiratory pitstop.

I was rounding most of them up when I approached Mr Reticent, Ms Shorty and Mr Rambunctious at the heavenly wooden entrance. (You want to be polite and nice, seeing that it's the last day and I'll be done with it and them in half day's time.)

- It's time to leave, fellas. Come on, let me help you with that last shot. Why don't the three of you gather...
- (Ms Shorty in desperation and panic) The guide didn't tell us the truth! Where is this god of wealth?? We went all over the place but we couldn't find him!! (Find him? Have you made an appointment??)
- Really? Why would you need...
- (Ms Shorty) Please, please. We really need to find him. Can you help us?
- We really need to go but...
- (Mr Rambunctious) Yes, we really want to see him before we go. Your god of wealth and prosperity.
- (Mr Reticent mumbles something I didn't catch)
- (resigned) Fine. Why don't we go over this side? You start here with these gods and I'll cover those that side.
- (Ms Shorty) Yes, we must hurry before the bus leaves. Thank you.
- (after a while, calling out) I think I might have found him! Or someone close to what you're looking for! He's here.
- (Ms Shorty and Mr Rambunctious running over, reading the plague) Are you sure? He is the god of economy, he's is not wealth! Is he the right god? We don't want to pray to the wrong god!
- (I thought you guys believe only in one god...??!!)
- (winging it while walking away) Well if you have good economy, we get wealth, won't you? It's the closest anyway, I can't find the Wealth anywhere else. (This is turning into a bloody farce.)
- (Ms Shorty calling out to Mr Reticent, her boss) He's here!! Come over here, we found him!!

(You have to be there to understand - the whole scene is much more desperate and rushed and loud and weird than I describe it.)

Mr Reticent ran over from another god and without missing a beat, knelt right down on the red cushion, clasped his hands together, took off his cap, clasped his hands again in prayers, looked straight at the the idol of the Chinese god of economy and jobs and muttered some chant or prayer aloud in some African dialect I can't make out, while the other two continued reading aloud and talking at the same time.

Three Africans in front of a Chinese god idol.

Earnestly praying. Needing something.

I just stood there rooted on the spot for a beat or two. Then I walked off to give them privacy.

* * * * *

After a while, we are standing together outside the entrance gate again, me not saying anything at all, them muttering in African among themselves.

Mr Reticent turns to me out of the blue and says in a strange tone.

- How does one get wealthy? Tell me.
- (mouth agape, mind blank, a stupid smile after a beat, shrug shoulders)
- I want to be rich... I am tired of being poor... I am tired of all this poverty.

He turns away and we walk off separately.

It wasn't so much his tone was strange as in he spoke in a subdued and confiding tone, with such despondence. It was also the only time he spoke the most to me, throughout the whole week. And the most expressive moment one would ever witness from this man.

And for a very brief moment and for the first time, I detected something in his hard eyes and severe eyebrows.

And I think it was that something which he had to keep to himself in order that his subordinates and underlings laugh and sing and joke and shout and smile in abandon.

day after 20 oct 2007... (and what a day!)

Indeed. Was and am still feeling awashed with the wonderful sense of bliss and happiness with the Big 35 intimate mini-celebration.

For the Day (and it was fortuitous to fall on a Saturday, thank goddess), togged out in denim jacket and a thin cool (literally) Topman top and swanky glossy army brown Porter tote bag to finish off - am really liking it more and more by the day, especially when viewed under a flattering spotlight...

Started off the day with Handwriting A-Z to relax the mind with something interesting and relaxing and insightful (very much so).

After that, a straight trip to Serene Centre (beeline through Botanic Gardens which I didn't even know about). Damn, Awfully Chocolate is here! Sorry, I digress. Oh yes, the day (and the morning after too!) spent with Gene, Wee, Dor, Merv and le petit prince, Shu'en.

Lunch was French at La Petite Cuisine. Had foie gras, confit de canard (duck drumstick cooked in own fat laced with a trace of orange peels), escargot, baguette with goat's cheese (served by accident but we lapped it up and paid for it anyway), grilled poulet and dory, creme brulee and caramel.

Verdict?

SOOOOOO. DAAAAAMMMN. FUUUUUUCCKKKING. NIIIIICE. AND. GOOOOOOD. IT'S. SIIIIIMMMPLY. HEEEAAAAVEN.

And best of all, it's soooo BLOODY affordable. Think us gluttonish Asians have been culturally programmed to stupidly gorge ourselves stupid like bovines when it comes to meals, we miss the picture about food - we opt for amount and fail to enjoy and experience food for all its colour and fragrance and flavour.

(Now I so fully understand and appreciate Ratatouille.)

The magic about French cuisine is that you don't feel filled enough, but not starved either. It's basically a small morsel bursting with a myriad flavours in your mouth. No wonder French gastronomy is ze world gold class standard. Amen. Gene, Wee, Dor and I were literally feeling dreamy and trippy like "Okay, you can kill us now, we're in heaven already".

Anyway. After that, Merv came and we adjourned to the Japanese restaurant next door.

(Yes, more food. It's beginning to be scary pattern for me - don't eat brekkie and lunch for days on ends due to overloading of work and training programmes and then BIANG stuff myself like a pig to the slaughter, bad...)

And while Merv ordered the seafood cold platter, fried chicken a la Japanese style, feta cheese and avocado, sushi and plum jelly dessert (haiyo, sour and sweet and cold, damn nice man) and then ordered us to eat with him (2nd lunch, yums), Dor took out my birthday cake.

LANA'S CHOCOLATE CAKE!!!

I think I nearly died lor. Was soooo awfully touched and happy. And after the first bite, I literally died in ecstacy lor...

So, so far, 4 firsts already within half day of hatchday - first time eat foie gras, confit, French cuisine and Lana (pun unintended). Bloody hell it was a long wait man, 30 over years then taste my first foie gras and Shu'en already accomplished all these before he's even 3 years old. Some kids have all the luck lor...

At least my luck was good. The fellas got me a nifty white Swatch, a Wallpaper City Guide to Paris and Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, which I happily lent to Wee as she is dying to read it again.

More eating and chats and jokes, and just feeling plain blessed and overjoyed and comforted. And didn't think about work at all too.

Then, off to Park Mall cos Merv needed to get furns for his refurbished shop and was thinking of getting some sale buys for Grandma's house so off we went, with Lana joyously half eaten in tow.

Spent a nice later afternoon checking out the most fucking expensive sticks of furniture my bony ass has ever sat on in my entire life... Like a bloody simple leather 3 seater from Air costing like only $6k lor. AFTER discount lor. Hmm. So nice lor... At least I finally saw what the Herman Miller Aeron chair looked like, after reading Gladwell's Blink...

And then, along the way already thinking of what's up for dinner (didn't I say we Asians are bovines and gluttons?). We trooped over to Great World City, which I haven't been to in eons.

Nice surprise there, cos it seemed to have improved quite a bit. Got gourmet and high class stuffs nowadays. Haven't even been into I Wanna Go Home, which Gene pooh-poohed as not living up to the hype.

And before you know, DINNER.

Oh man, it was the highlight of the day lor. Imperial Treasure Chinese restaurant. Another first. By the time, could tell they were a tad tired and worried about the dinner and wallet already. Everyone wanted to go light.

So. I paid for dinner, which I already decided but gamely decided to keep mum about, just to meself... ;o). Damn expensive, but worth every penny, and the company too.

Anyway, we had a faaaantastic dinner, every dish was SUPERB - roasted chicken, double boiled seafood soup in melon, steamed fresh garoupa in garlic, razor clams (fucking $20 a stick! a tad tough though), tofu stuffed with spinach and laced with mushrooms, kailan in ginger and garlic. Fuck, even the 'fan' was fantastic lor, I ate every grain. No time for dessert as they gave us table on condition that we vacate in 1 hr.

But it was worth it. Every single cent and drop of gravy.

Then off for last minute closing time shopping and chatting along the way. Must be a lucky coincidence - spied a cool teapot at half price so now it's mine, already brewed tea 4 times in it since yesterday! (Bumped into a staff and conveniently ignore him.)

Then, it's back to Gene's for freshening up and moooore Lana's chocolate cake and hot tea (Merv went off) and more catching up. And a nice sleepover at their place.

Today was the longest I have stayed at Gene and Wee's place with Dor. He made breakfast, I checked out the classifieds, in between we played with Shu'en and Wee's 3 magnificent cats (a tad stressed by Shu'en). Lunch was a simple affair and then we hopped down to see Merv at his shop.

A late lunch for him at Han's, with more drinks and cake for us, and then to Gelare's, with mooore gelato and pancakes and salty chicken pie.

Had to leave for dinner (AGAIN! MORE FOOD...) so parted the fantastic company for making my 35th memorable and headed to J8 for Ding Tai Feng (MORE CHINESE FOOD! Can die...) as my sis was treating...

And when I reached home, what is that I spied on my bed??

"Your Prime Suspect Complete Series arrived yesterday."

HURRAAYYY!

The weekend couldn't have ended any better than that.

For all it's worth, I had great company, experienced great joy and can now honestly say -

"I passed 35 on a heavily and gloriously filled stomach."

:o)

sucky worst, simply best (the best bunch of delegates) - parter

They've left, most of them, back to where they came from.

I remember some had to fly off from early Saturday morning while the last one got to stay till Wednesday I think but it's not the same as when all of them were around.

Strange that I should feel bereft, like the line in the Pied Piper of Hamelin. We had a final dinner and some brief chat and some of them wanted to go back to the hotel so we chowed.

Then just as when the talk was getting somewhere, someone else needed a last drink so okay, fine, we scouted around Clarke Quay but couldn't find any seats anywhere (it was Friday, so what gives??) so finally came upon Cuba Libre (an unfortunate decision). So loud and charring, we left after 1.30am. It wasn't the going out with a high note or the celebratory last dinner send off shabang (think most were tired) but I enjoyed myself, and it felt decent so I'm glad I joined in.

Dead beat so we bade our farewells while the hip one ventured off the MOS for a last lingering look - die die also want to look-see before he flew back to his volcanoes... Lingering hugs and reluctant farewells. Sigh... All natural things come to an end.

And it was a wrap. Return to normal usual same old-same old.

Never thought I'd feel that way but I am probably already missing those fellas...

(Even with the mounting load of unnerving shit at the back of my mind from now till Tuesday...)

sucky worst of times, simply best of days (the best bunch of delegates)

The boss and managers have been an absofuckinglute daymare. Work became such a bloody bitch.

Despite all the talk and clearing the air, despite all the siding from the boss's bosses with us executives, you simply can't teach fucking old civil service dogs new tricks.

Despite all the supposed remarks about doing the right thing and peak periods that need to be tied over, the lull period just never seem to appear. Just peak after fucking draining peak.

Despite the fact that I'm already drowned, not drowning, in programme after programme and close to flipping the PC over and walking off, they still pile on more programmes on you without the slightest bother or care.

Despite the fact that I'm already handling a dynamic fully packed 2 week programme endlessly running in and out of the office and around the campus looking after my delegates and officials like some headless duck and squeezing drippings of time to clear emails and more work, I'm expecting to manage an even more intimidating programme that involves ASEAN member countries and it's happening like NEXT TUESDAY and NOTHING is FUCKING DONE yet... "You're the MAIN guy for the next one you know (and the next next after that, in case you don't even bother to know, you fucking shrivelled piece of male cunt) , even though you're like this close to falling off the earth with exhaution with the present programme, I EXPECT you to attend the Friday meeting and manage it YOURSELF."

And that was after week after week of programmes. With their barefaced lying, "It's just one more, next month will be slow..." That was said before another 2 and 3 and 4 more little nonsensical profit losing programmes came about and you fucking just took them in without even bothering to consider our load and schedule.

Fuck. You.

Justgofuckyourselfwitharustedpole.

Thenfuckyourmotherwithityouassholefucker.

These are classic old civil service deadwood rabid dogs who just trample on younger talent and resource like dried leaves. If there's a case of blatant human rights abuse and gross labour law infringement, mine deserves a full chapter Case Study.

Am sooo woebegone with apathy and disinterest now with the assholes who are the laughing stocks heading a supposedly glam division, I just give an automatonic yes to whatever nonsense they tag on me.

Just feel like a coconut husk right now.

You can't break or crack me. I'm just totally dried and losing strands of interest and dedication.

And things will not abade. And things will just get worst. And things will just never change. At all. Period. Unless we leave, I guess. Then, those managers and the boss will just have to do the fucking shit themselves for a while.

And then things might just go back to the same start. Only with new innocent idiots, that's all.

* * * * *

And so things hit rock bottom and will go even deeper, what with next Tuesday timebomb just waiting to explode in my face.

You know the feeling where you think and wonder and worry and run work over and over in your brains sooo much and you get so tired and weary that you reach a point where an actual panic situation happens and you lose the ability to even worry at all.

I don't think it's nonchalance (conscious or self-willed or automatic), it's just that the body and mind and spirit can't even bring itself to panic anymore.

And so with that guillotine looming over my near to imploding head, I went for the farewell dinner hours ago for Alice, a division head which some good division folks (namely because I'm pals with Beng, I think) have so graciously invited me to, even though I'm not an active part of their division.

So me, Sharon and Jas trooped famously late into the swanky Chinese restaurant for tonic dinner at VivoCity. Along the way, still thinking about work next week and devil knows what else which I can't help and don't know why. And my delegates whom I'm supposed to meet at St James for their social programme later on.

And had the most expensive tonic delicacy Chinese dinner I've ever tasted. Think the company made the food all the better too as I felt very at ease (or was it the numbness and fatigue from work?). The wit and humour was divine and spontaneous and I felt nice and yet bothered, of two minds about other things at the same time.

And then, there was the impromptu birthday surprise which they were throwing for their ex-colleague and graciously included moi in. Tiramisu never tasted better. Of course, I had to suffer their ribbing and jokes but I was too touched and taken by surprise to know how to react so I just smiled and laughed like the village idiot and felt thankful while we snapped and shared the birthday song (how cheesy but so sweet of them). Felt so like I was stealing the thunder from the actual birthday girl. Shit, she even shared half of her marzipan with me and I don't even know her or got her name!

And of course, there's the fun dessert where you have to work your arms, legs and agility for before you can even eat it! It was basically the reason why they chose this restaurant as they warned 'desserts' gonna be a messy affair'. Not too bad lah, just tiring man, gosh...

And in retrospect that's just the appetiser.

The main was at St James.

Bade farewell to the dinner folks and trooped to Carl's to walk with colleague and a delegate to St James. Hormoz is from Iran and the taciturn sort whom you could kill a cat in front of him and he won't bade an eye... So we made small talk on the way but was beginning to think 'this is gonna be a looong dreary night'.

Boy was I wrong.

It was the shortest and most delightful night out drinking and dancing and having fun with a bunch of people - foreigners, no less - I've ever had.

And man, you really see the real colours and otherside natures of people in different lights (pun intended).

I can NEVER dance for shit, I'm stiff as a pole, have 2 left feet and never bothered to. I just like the alcohol and the music pounding and massaging my chest feeling. But this group of peeps I took a liking to and felt very comfortable with. And when I saw how Hormoz, this thin Iranian, started jiving in his off tuned, off sync manner, without the slightest bother in the world in front of ALLL those young punks (who are, ironically standing stock still while the music is pounding the eardrums, god knows why), my jaws just DROPPED and I just couldn't stop smiling (I didn't laugh, I'm not mean, I know I can't do it for nuts too!). And there was Joan, this short and intimidating looking Jamaican with a dry sharp wit who moves like a groovy R&B mama. And there's Tashi from Bhutan, in a real funky young T, a bit lacking in coordination but just joining in the fun nonetheless. Jaqueline danced sensuously with her Romanian ease. Fabricio heated up the floor with Guatemalan steps. Even Akaki, the first Georgian to attend our MFA training programme in Singapore, very shy at first, made brave tentative twists eventually. And then, there's Joseph who was a bit too stock and stately a the beginning but he's from Seychelles so maybe they take time to warm up. Luis was positively wild with his Angolan flair. Eleanore is a bit into her age and stood throughout due to her bad leg but the little Filippina was game in joining the company nonetheless. And rounding off was Alyssa, the dancing queen of a colleague who's the party animal who brought all of us together tonight.

Truly, they've got to be my favourite group of delegates, among all those I've taken and managed.

And needless to say, I felt like dancing after a while and didn't care how uncoordinated I might be and so I did.

And I truly enjoyed myself.

And even though I'm like thinking, it's the therapeutic balm that came too early before the pile of horrible shit hits the face tomorrow and come next Monday, the calm before the relentless wave of mental destruction, but at least it happened and I slathered it all over my body and took in as much as I could.

The feeling as I took a cab home felt like that nice shower after a hard hot day, that mouth of delicious creamy ice cream, that brush of cooling breeze on the face.

It felt like that slow spread of happiness in a year concentrated into a tightfisted lump of sugary bliss savoured and gone in 5 short hours...

I'm going to be miserable from tomorrow on till the rest of the month, but for now, I'm utterly glad I had this.

the laptop new toy. and a new quote...

Been having this baby dell for 2 weeks now and this is the first burb. Hope it'll get me started on something else more serious... (I hope...)

Anyways.

I can't get this out of my head - the phrasing is poetic, lightly pedantic and resonates with just the right tension:

There is no mystery to happiness.

Unhappy men are all alike. Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn - or worse, indifference - cleaves to them, or they to it, and so they live each day within a shroud of yesterdays. The happy man does not look back. He doesn't look ahead. He lives in the present.

But there's the rub. The present can never deliver one thing: meaning. The ways of happiness and meaning are not the same. To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment; he need only live for the moment. But if he wants meaning - the meaning of his dreams, his secrets, his life - a man must reinhabit his past, however dark, and live for the future, however uncertain. Thus nature dangles happiness and meaning before us all, insisting only that we choose between them.


-- The Interpretation of Murder, Jeb Rubenfeld

A new dictum to mull over...