Still waiting.

Still waiting.

And hoping.

I have been waiting for someone to come along in my life who will sweep me off my feet. But it would appear that I am a love pariah! No such luck for as long as I can remember.

I am thinking perhaps it's just impossible to hang around with me. I am the difficult one in the group whom people just tolerate.

Or maybe I am one of the mediocre ones - the people around just outshines. Not smart enough, not good-looking enough, etc.

Or maybe I am the one who becomes the 'friend'. Nothing deeper or more intimate than that. You know, the safe one whom you never become more intimate with. Except when talking about your beau, whom you are going out with.

The thing is, many people do not realize that we are human beings too. And being taken as the 'safe' option isn't exactly what we look forward to being labeled. Can you imagine that, you're not the romantic, the dream, or even the bad boy or the jerk? You're just mediocre and 'safe'. You're the product that people leave on the shelf to chalk up the digits but nobody ever buys?

Or maybe I haven't hung out enough? I've been busy with school for the past four years, I have forgotten to step out and put myself in the limelight and let the spot land on me for a while for others to take notice.

Or perhaps I haven't allowed myself the spotlight? Afraid to fall to fast, too deep because the last time hurt too deep, too long.

I am too this and/or too that. Or not enough of this and/or not enough of that.

I don't know.

I only know I've been waiting for too long... ...

It's an -ASH day

It’s A Crash!

Diary-X crashed and is now defunct. That’s right. I just went to their website and read the open letter.

What that mans to me is that all the journal entries I have ever made over the last three are lost. Well, at least lost online anyway. I had always backed up each entry as a Word document, so at least the important writings are still intact.

I am still considering whether I should re-post my past entries onto this Blogspot. However I am swayed towards “hey, life goes on dude!” attitude. Nevertheless, I am still open to suggestions now – should I re-post my past entries? Comments, please?

What I am really sorry is for losing my visitors – I really take them as my guests, since they’ve been “at home with me” for such a long time. And I’ve been missing the comments on my entries too. I was pleasantly surprised and honored when I saw visitors from lands as exotic as Saudi Arabia and Egypt reading my blog. Even from the east, I've got visits from Koreans and China Mainlanders! There were even strangers from way north in the United Kingdom and France, out west in the United States dropping by. I am glad they’ve since become my friends too.

Unfortunately, right now there’s now way they can trace their way to this new blog.

I will continue my journal writing on this Blogspot. But hey, you guys continue to send in your comments yah!

It’s A Smash!

I just surfed through my godfather’s blog (Yes, that’s you Chris!). It’s a swell collection of photos journaling his way home from work. I am so envious of the fact that he gets to pass by a Starbucks® on his way there. I only get a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaves. I don’t think their hot beverages taste great. I always get badly extracted coffee – full off the acids but none of the body. Something is just wrong. But they might just tell you that they are a ‘café’ not a ‘coffeehouse’. But hello? How about some pride in your job? The Italians serve the best coffee any size, hands down. They are a proud and dedicated people that way.

As you can probably tell, I prefer Starbucks®; even if they’ve stopped serving their cold beverages in shiny glasses. However I hope they’d bring the glasses back, it’s just not cool sipping Frappucino out of a disposable cup while “having in here”.

Anyway, back to Chris’ photojournal. It might be just me, but everything there seems HUGE! The supermarket’s gigantus (it’s a whole building by itself) and even the Starbucks® is big! I believe I would have to develop cinemascope 16:9 aspect eyes when I get there just to take in everything! (Okay, gotta stop with the exclamations again).

Nevertheless, it’s fun. It’s like a little tour of the place. Maybe one of these days I can visit the place for a bit of a holiday. But most likely in the June, when schools close for the mid-year holidays when I am teaching (hopefully I can get to leave). From what Chris had said, the November/December period would be too cold for fun. Oh and Paige if you are reading this, yes, it’s warm here in Singapore – too warm! How does 28�C – 32�C of humid weather sounds to you?

Going through the photos, I am now inspired to do one of mine too. Hopefully, the sun would come out later in the evening and I can try to get some nice shots of MY neighbourhood.

I AM the Body Electric

School is starting.

Contemporary Literature assignment is due.

Done and checked.

There are some other assignments coming up: American (History) Literature; Moral Values in Education and Learning and Behaviour Problems in School Children.

Right in top of it... sigh. There is seemingly no rest for me.

I must be one of them 'wickeds'.

We'll be doing Walt Whitman's poetry from Leaves of Grass for American Literature next week. I once sang a choir version of his �O Captain, My Captain� when I was with the Singapore Armed Forces' Choir Corp. It's a nice and sophisticated piece of poetry and all, but I assure you it's a whole different ball game trying to SING it.

Let's just say we were all glad when the public recital was over - it was at the Victorian Concert Hall. Ironically, commanding officers of the members' various units were special invited guests of honor. I wonder if Ms Babes Condes, our choir mistress chose that piece as a tongue in cheek; or did she have a hidden agenda...?

Doing my own research on Whitman, I think he's a swell character, full of intrigue and interesting ideas. Tracy Chapman once sang,

 

�	If you knew that you would be alone Knowing right, being wrong,
	Would you change? Would you change?	�

I'd like to think that Whitman was such a person; I aspire to be one too. But it takes a lot of strength and courage to do that. For one thing, you're gonna be alone doing it. But then again, John Lennon also said,

 

�

you may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one.

�

And then he went on hopefully,

 

�

I hope someday You'd join us And the world will be as ONE.

�

Anyway, here's a little snapshot of Whitman in a satiric 'music video' of some the more controversial aspects of his personality.

 

Click here to view video in full size

The Simplest Love.

There are overtures to a symphony.

 

These loud, showy gestures prelude a single grand idea.

 

These overt movements can be marvelous and awe-inspiring.

 

But the ones that says the most are the tiny nods that let you know.

 

The tiny nods that can say just that little bit more.

 

�I care...�

My Happiness.

I was very happy and excited when my favourite coffee hangout decided to use actually thick-glass glasses (duh!) for their �having it here� cold beverages. Gives one a certain feel of cachet when drinking it. Well, this as oppose to some cheap disposable plastic cup. Not cool.

Besides, using a sparkling, shiny glass also screams �I love the Earth!� or �I am certified enviro-friendly�. Very nice, very So-Ca (South California). But then again, of course we are ignoring the fact that glasses need water, detergent, synthetic sponges, electricity for the lights and hot water when cleaning. All precious resources and potential pollutants.

Unfortunately, they had stopped using the shiny, sparkly glasses and reverted. I was served my Rhumba Frappucino in a *gasp!* plastic cup.

After a massively disappointing evening at Starbucks�, I was on my bus-journey home which required doses of medicated oil because of the assault on my olfactory senses. It�s nothing to do with the bus (I think), but more to do with the bus-users. The odours could be effused by the labourers who have been toiling under the searing sun, building a better life for you and me and 4 millions others living on this teensy island � an exciting accolade of men women and post-colonial immigrants.

Shame on me for being critical. And unsympathetic. (Hey isn�t it Sunday? Must be my off day...).

I was on the bus with my in-ear Fontopids firmly stuck in my ear listening to a certain pint-sized Aussie suggesting to me that she believes in me. Ah ah ah... aural bliss! But I thought I was getting anti-social and so should join in the crowd�s activities for a bit (be a participant, not an spectator of life!).

So I turned my attention to the 20 cm unit on the bus, aka TV-Mobile. Hey! Whaddya know, the news was on. First up, the critical situation in a certain country with respect to some insulting illustrative issues. The mob, they are attacking the... hey... wait a minute... the American Embassy?

First off, why are they pelting the building with tomatoes, eggs and other foodstuff? Isn�t there a better use for that? Like maybe feeding the homeless and hungry? Ooh, hold on... I didn�t know that the American�s have anything to do with the illustrations... I thought it was in the land of fairytales and creamery butter cookies...

�...widespread speculations that the American government masterminded the recent...�

I see, such epiphany! Of course it�s the Americans. They are the cause of everything isn�t? They started the recent war (or was that more of a reaction?). Let�s not even go to the oil prices.

What about the poor homeless children?

Or those involved in child prostitution?

Or the widespread famine in Africa?

Or the widespread diseases?

Ah-ha! The bird-flu? What about the bird flu? Yes! The bird-flu! Check out their crest!

And the chewing gum?

And the litter of cats abandoned outside my neighbour�s house?

Oh, of course I had been so foolish! Now, at last I see!

Anyone to take up on the cause and believe with me? They are the cause of so much unhappiness! It�s a massive worldwide onslaught!

But then I am also just speculating.

However what I am NOT speculating is my unhappiness caused by their Starbucks� not being served in shiny, sparkly glasses.

Damn!

Kinship.

�How old is your son this year?� Uncle Choo asked. The question was followed by an awkward silence while the father hesitated and stared at the son.

�He�s eight now!� he hazarded a loud guess as he laughed and patted on his son�s back like a father doting on his son. John was confused. He was sure he was nine, that�s why his mum bought him all those primary three textbooks and brought him to school when it reopened the other week.

---

I had coffee with John the other evening. John�s been one of my best friends for the longest time and he�s always had an interesting relationship with his dad. I am being polite and understated here when I use the word �interesting�. He once told me, �that man�s my father,� while pointing at the said person and continued with, �at least that�s what my birth cert says.� We were only twelve years old then.

John had always shared with me about his family life, or rather the lack of it. His dad was never around and once on his tenth birthday, his father couldn�t remember which primary level he was in then. He never remembered his birthday, or any other thing in his life anyway. It was mostly his mother who took care of him since young. As a capable and independent woman, in John�s world, Mum was his mother-figure and father-figure.

On the other hand, father-person is a sort of sperm-donor. It�s the kind of person in your life who jerks off.

The irony is, John�s father who never seemed to be around, who was always (and still is) too busy with god-knows-what out of the house now has the time to help his friends� children. Recently, his dad had gone and be a guarantor for a Chinamaid�s son studying in Singapore. He�s currently helping another friend�s daughter apply for scholarship/bursary for University studies.

�What a laugh!� he exclaimed, �for one who is never around for his kids, he sure is helpful for someone else�s!� I could sense the bitterness in John�s voice and see the pained confusion in his eyes. He took a gulp of his caf� latte. I just wanted to hug him and say things in life aren't always perfect.

But we find ways to live through it. We�re survivors.

I say �we� because to a certain extent, our lives, John and I, mirror each other. But that�s another story for another time. Right now, John�s son is clambering up his lap to entice him to play. You can tell from one look that Junior is adopted. After all John is still single and is never one to fool around.

And the fact that Junior is a blue-eyed blonde while my friend is a Chinese.

Junior is John�s adopted son from Romania. Junior is also the love of his life. You can tell from the way he picks Junior up to toss him in the air and how they enjoy each other�s laughing company. The ever stoic John willingly becomes the son�s clown. John also takes care of his daily living, both school and at home. It was through Junior that John became a strong advocate for childhood vaccination. Something he learnt through all the visits to the pediatric clinic.

Now attending Preparatory Classes, Junior is sent to school before John goes to work and picked up from after-school care when he knocks off. I once caught John in their usual evening routine of dinner, homework, shower and bed for Junior. I had a sheepish grin on my face when I saw John tucked Junior into bed with �The Little Engine That Could�.

Of course, I was over at John�s for our usual Friday beer and nuts. But I could never wipe off that image of a normally stoic John who becomes a gentle reader to his son as he retells the tale of a courageous and generous anthropomorphic train engine who tries its best.

That, there and then and certainly beyond, is unquestionably a FatherMother who surely thinks he can. He also definitely is.

---

I was discussing with another friend of mine the other day. I shared with him about how society at large had confused sexual identity with gender roles. He, on the other hand, insisted that the ideal family unit must have a father and a mother, no other way about it.

I looked at him and thought, �Try and tell that to John.�

Or even Junior for that matter.

The Guy List

Well, you know me (or at least my closer friends do). I have serious issues with women, especially the stupid ones.

�But why...?�, some girls would ask, in their tiny, whiny voices.

Oh, I can't even start to explain. Not that I particularly feel the need to. It would be doing them a favor wouldn't it? And what do I get in return? A few more dead brain cells.

Fortunately for these tiny, whiny whinnies, Men's Health (yes, I do read the magazine) had a session and deigned to enlighten these creatures a bit by coming up with a list of interesting (I must say) retorts.

While reading this, see if you can extrapolate any hidden sociocultural inferences within the list. Of course, this secondary exercise is not for said stupid ones.

Enjoy folks!

---

1. You say to us, �You're not romantic anymore.� Fine, we'll try harder. But only if you initiate once in a while too. Deal?

2. Then there's, �You never listen.� This is not an inherently male trait. How many times does a guy have to explain the differences between yellow and red card offences?

3. No. You don't look fat. Did we mention how you never listen?

4. If you ask for our opinion, please don't get mad when we give it. The color of the curtains shouldn't be a referendum on our relationship.

5. It's just a spider, for Pete's sake. Step on it.

6. We work a 60-hour week, did the dishes, paid the bills, walked the dog, changed the oil, picked up the dry cleaning, read to the kids and gave you equal time. All we're asking is three hour on the couch on Sunday.

7. No more deflecting responsibility with attempts of cute and kittenish responses. You can't giggle your way out of trouble anymore.

8. You know damn well what we're doing in there. Stop asking.

9. Forget the notion that raising kids is harder then maintaining gainful employment. More important? Yes. Harder? No.

10. If you continue to dump on our best buds, we will list the (many) character tics of your bee.

11. If you want to have kids, you have to have sex. This is not a complaint. This is science.

12. Somehow, somewhere, women were sold this idea of 'fashionably late'. We don't get this. Make up a fashion emergency if you must, but don't ask us to be intentionally tardy. It's like asking us to kick the host in the groin.

Yes, that woman is hot. Yes, we appreciate beauty. That's why we're with you We do listen. And empathize. But when you're troubles have been analyzed to nothingness, can we please stop talking about them? If we fell in love with you when you had long hair, we're going to want you to keep your long hair till death do us part. We might beg, but we prefer not to. As for commitment ultimatums, just address number 1 to 15 on this list, then we'll talk.

---

This is an interesting collection of multifaceted allusions, allegations and inferences. Do spare a moment to think about it.

I guess there is one point that I might like to add.

17. If you fancy us with gentlemanly manners, we'd also desire ladylike behavior.
    

Power Point

Well, what do you know? Singapore isn�t as pleasant as it really makes itself out to be or wants itself to believe. Despite all the publicity and campaigns, there are still creepy people who are, well, just plain creepy.

---

The circuit board at home was behaving like a thug on drugs. Throughout most of the evening, it was tripping (or should I say, �trippin�). Little things like this is enough to send my mum on a anxiety panic attack.

�Oh no! What�s wrong?�

�Is there a broken appliance?�

�Did we overload the powerpoint?�

�Will the house blow up?�

�Will the world end tonight?� (I had to add this in...)

Anyway, she will then proceed to over-analyse EVERY socket in the house, pondering over whether it is overloaded. But tonight, she went all out (and she wasn�t even on amphetamine) and called an electrician. I wasn�t too hot about the idea especially when the power was already back when she made the call.

When the guy came, mum told him that everything is already fine, but could he check on the circuit breaker just to be sure. Of course he could. And promptly told my mum that our ICB had a problem that $460 would fix. Of course, with that kind of a nosebleed price, we said no. But he wasn't about to give up. After pestering her for about another 30 minutes, we manage to get the electrician to leave with a $30 transport fee. We thought we had sent him packing and that was that.

Unfortunately, that was only the tip of the iceberg.

His boss called about fifteen minutes later to talk about the repair. Mum spent 20 minutes on that first phone call to reject his offer that kept reducing from $460 to $380, $250 with each subsequent call and finally the last offer stood at $120, after pestering us with about 10 phone calls later. At one stage, they actually demanded another $20 for transport from us if we refuse to �repair� the ICB. Ridiculous!

By then we had already made a police report. This was triggered by the scare the guys gave us when they switched off the current from OUTSIDE the house after we�ve refused their offer to fix the ICB. In one of the conversations, they even accused us of making prank calls about the circuit problem, then threatening that the condition of our ICB won�t last another three hours� time. It was creepy. I felt like I was on the set of �I Know What You Did Last Summer� but with less rainfall and no size 6 actresses screaming their heads off.

Mum was of course having a full on panic attack. I had to try to calm her down, first by being REALLY mellow (like I was on LSD or some Jamaican �Spice� cake), then by making her a cup of Earl Grey. All the while I also had to try to convince her that the police was the way to go but she was anxious about the possible repercussions police presence might incur.

I have to agree with her on that point. I also have to admit, with only her and I around, the situation was stressing me out. Fortunately, she finally agreed to make a police report and get the guys in blue to come. That was after the guys had called for the umpteenth time, accused my mum of pulling a prank and we had decided to let the phone ring without picking it up.

I decided mum should get the family members to come home. With such a situation going on, involving such characters, it was better to have more people around the house. That was when we confirmed our suspicion that those electricians (the guys and his boss) are actually hanging at the void deck on the ground floor of our flat!

By the time the policemen arrived, everyone was in the house, including dad. He was so full of it, as he had always been for the past 31 years that I�ve known him for. Whenever and wherever there is a family crisis, you can even get a whiff or whimper from him. But when the storm clouds have passed, he�ll be there like he was the main guy in the whole story.

If you think we have issues. You�d be right. But what�s new?

Anyway, while my mum was explaining the situation to the cops and dad was trying to put on an act like he was there the whole time. In fact, he was at the coffee shop doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who. When mum called him to come back, I thought he sounded reluctant even! So the whole �act� in front of the cop sickens me.

Meanwhile, my sis noticed this � the group of three policemen was the epitome of Singapore racial harmony and stuff � there was a Malay, Chinese and Indian each!! Were they cute? Well, if you were into uniforms, they�d be � for their uniforms� sake. Anyway, my mum recounted the thing to them while they offered kind words and advice. They were very nice enforcers, constantly assuring my mum, which was what she needed while my father appeared rather busy. From his behavior, I thought he was either showing that he was VERY involved in the whole affair or he was hopelessly flirting with the boys in blue. I don�t want to speculate.

For the all the hype there is about Singapore, this appears so out of character. But it leaves one wondering. If it could happen to us, surely there must have been many others who have had similar bad experiences. So then, what do I make of this? What can I assume of Singapore�s level of civility?

I think there are a bunch of us working hard towards it. Unfortunately, society is made up of a continuum that spans a wide spectrum of characters that aren�t exactly fixed. Even then, there will be some who actually falls of the axis. Until then, we will just have to exercise our intelligence and sometimes just err on the side of caution and wisdom.