Agents Are Go!! vs The Psychic Wall

I've got a new blog

2010-05-31T23:17:00.001+08:00

Fuck Rogers

2010-03-30T07:13:00.001+08:00

I'm late for work. I had clumsily forgotten my watch and stumbled dreamily onto the bus with hardly any recollection of the breakfast I had earlier.

Sleepy faces on the bus all over. I wonder if the high tech circuits in this new bus are still drowsy from dreaming of electric sheep.

I'm going to work late and somehow I don't feel like I care about it at all. What's a few minutes compared to the total time I spend at work?

There's too much happening on this earth to sweat the small stuff.

Chicago-Street Player (12" promo)

2010-03-20T22:33:00.001+08:00

After having heard Pitbull's I Know You Want Me, I simply had to find out which song they had sampled.

Here it is, the original track. The real thing.

Enjoy.

Bicycles

2010-03-11T21:25:00.003+08:00

Pardon me for the paucity of my entries, but I haven't had the drive to blog in a long while. Work has taken a generous bite of my life, and turned me into a zombie.

In other news, I have one thing to blog about.

Cycling.

It's a sport and a hobby, dammit.

You don't buy into the bicycling thing by just owning a shiny expensive bicycle overnight.

You don't just don messenger bags just cause they're oh so cool.

We grew up riding those bicycles. We spent our youth figuring out how to tune our deraileurs, we spent our teenhood always saving up for our new bicycles - they weren't much, but they meant a lot given how hard we had to save up for them.

We rode, because that's pretty much the only thing we could do, having spent all our time and money on our bicycles. But we loved it.

It was our life, and it always will be.

We grew up on those roads and trails.

Did you?

The Crying Game

2010-02-28T20:28:00.002+08:00

I was on the way to work in a taxi, when Culture Club's 'Do You Really Want To Hurt Me' played on the radio.

I almost cried.

No, not because it hit any raw nerves.

It was because I was so out of love, so out of touch, that the song no longer bears any relevance to my life.

The fact that I was as numb to the themes of the song as I was when I first heard it at age 9 was the tragedy that was worth crying about.

stream

2010-02-16T17:49:00.005+08:00

im really unsure of how to get past this bullshit writersblock, if you even call me a writer. the will to blog is weak in me especially when my indoor thermometer reads thirty point fucking nine degrees c. those article style blog posts obviously arent doing any shit to my readership and to be honest no one wants to read the pretentious crap i write that no one can identify with

i dont know if they use paragraphing in what they call stream of consciousness writing but ill use them. makes it more natural like those 2 second pauses that people use as verbal paragraphing when making their pompous speeches. so here i am paragraphing my shit the way i want to

like this

it really makes that mess more readable unlike lets say trainspotting which i had tried thrice to complete but failed, think i should just watch the damn movie instead, if only i can find the dvd

what is so cool about this is a transcript of my very thoughts. yes. what youre seeing is my pure unadulterated thought, be it fucked it up or not. but its all me, and all honest and raw and unedited, like peering down the proverbial blouse of my mind

yes im a dirty fucker

but enough with that shit its chinese new year and i shouldnt be mucking around with disgusting shit like that.

visiting relatives and all that jazz. seeing my cousins grow up, wondering if they feel the same way as i do when they see me grow up. i have this cousin who i hardly talk to and somehow it feels like we are similar in so many ways. sometimes im jealous of their youth and how much happier they are than i was when i was their age.

sometimes i wish i were them instead of me so i could get away without slogging my fucking vestiges of youth away on work. i miss my youth

just this morning my taxi drove past my old school and i near cried. the days used to be so much happier. so much less lonely. i had friends that had mattered and i hung around with them all the time. youthful ignorance had let us enjoy the good parts of life while ignoring adult things like finances bills family career and those boring things that grownups used to speak of at family reunions.

now its our turn

over the dinnertable i am expected to brag about my job. but fuck that. i feel like a fraud. im not even passionate about what i do, hell i didnt even work hard to get where i am i sorta just figured it out. if i had really worked hard to get to where i really want to be id be playing the guitar next to bono and alongside brian may and bring more music to the world

drowning out the silence in the world. the silence in the room kills me and i have to keep the music playing to kill the silence. cause im so lonely. so terribly lonely.

and single.

and i wish i had a special someone but how the fuck do i look for one given my preferences? i dunno how the others do it but maybe they do it anyway and regret it eventually. maybe by being picky and lonely im protecting myself from the falls and the disappointments but maybe, just maybe, the transient highs before the disappointments may be worth the pain. maybe.

but sitting in this room for hours in a day, with nothing but a computer and the hifi to entertain me is not sustainable. i'll regret that shit someday, but how can i regret something i didnt even consciously choose?

Cadbury Dairy Milk - UK vs Australia shootout

2010-01-20T22:00:00.004+08:00

Was pretty pleased to find Cadbury Dairy Milk from both countries in Mustafa the other day, so I bought both for a taste test.

UK Cadbury is the one in the purple foil wrap, Aussie is in that cardboard box.

First tasting:
UK Cadbury - Very strong cocoa taste, doesn't really melt in your mouth and has a very grainy mouthfeel. A bit disappointing.

Aussie Cadbury - The milkiness is the first thing I notice, and it's extremely creamy. There's a slight caramel aftertaste to it and less of the cocoa taste. Melts in your mouth perfectly. Sweetness was about the same for both.

Second tasting:
Aussie Cadbury - as above

UK Cadbury - Tasting the Aussie Cadbury before the UK makes it very evident that the UK cadbury is the inferior product. The cocoa tasted artificial, and the mouthfeel is simply inferior. I don't like it.

Verdict: Aussie Cadbury (easily available in Singapore) pwns UK Cadbury hands down

A stark realisation

2010-01-20T20:34:00.006+08:00

I've done a rotation in oncology - it makes me realise that life is truly impermanent. I've seen for myself that some of the patients are young dudes. Dudes my age, or around my age. And that's just the dying people. Even more people my age transition directly from the healthy-and-alive phase to the dead phase, skipping the dying phase altogether.

Even the famous dudes conk out early all the time.

Joe Strummer did.

Michael Jackson did.

Stephen Gately did.

It could be me as much as it could have been them.

25? 50? 75? I dunno.

But I had better live every day as though it would be my last. And this time, I mean it. Because, when I get diagnosed with terminal cancer or whatever, I don't want to spend my last bedridden months regretting.

We have finite lifespans, and we had better analyse our own priorities and act on them before we conk out.

Do I really want to suck up to the boss who is going to forget me in 2 months? Do I want to sacrifice my health and mental health, and the opportunities to be around my parents (who have their own finite lifespans), just because of what others expect of me?

No.

I want to do the things that matter to myself. Experiencing new things, seeing things in new perspectives, being accountable to the people I treasure, and keeping myself healthy.

==

I am accountable to my employer. But I am also accountable to my family, my friends, and most importantly, myself.

What do I really want?

What do I really, really want?

==

At my deathbed, would I regret not putting in enough hours at work? It's more likely I'd regret the more pleasurable things that I had not had enough of.

Seeing the flocks of birds fly across the sunset.

Watching Hollywood's best works.

Listening to the most intricate of modern music.

Tasting the various flavours that world cuisine has to offer.

Having had fulfilling relationships.

And the simple pleasure of living as many healthy, pain-free days as we can possibly have.

Working excessively hard at work would not, in any way, improve my life.

==

As a medical professional I want to be an ambassador of good health. Live healthy, eat healthy, think healthy, and to spread the message.

I can't do that when I'm working 14 hour days, having so little time for rest I have to sleep like a homeless man on public transport just to get enough rest to get by.

I ache all over. I'm emotionally worn. I feel like a broken-down man. This can't be good for my lifespan.

==

Call me lazy, call me irresponsible, but I'm taking charge of my life. I'm going to underperform at work, because it is my responsibility to myself.

I have to make the choices that make my life meaningful to myself. I have to live every day as though it is my last.

Who knows when I will conk out?

An interlude.

2009-11-15T21:17:00.003+08:00

I wish I could tell you I'm alright,
But as a boy I was told not to lie.
There's so much I'd like to write,
So many open ends I'd like to tie.

There's paragraphs that I'd like to pen,
But my soul is owned by the routine of the day.
My energy is sapped by work enough for ten men,
All for what? A measly pay.

5 things I hate about Malaysia - 2: Law And Order

2009-10-05T23:59:00.004+08:00

Here's a short one.

Malaysia is lawless. Illegal parking is abound. Drivers there are too selfish to comprehend that illegal parking equates obstruction equates traffic jams for all. Well, duh?

Most taxi drivers - or drivers for that matter - do not use seatbelts. Malaysians go to the temples and mosques to pray for a safe journey, then subsequently get into their cars and speed along the highway without using any seatbelts.

Seatbelts are more reliable and better-proven that divine intervention. Would you rather pray for a safe journey, or do things that are statistically proven to increase your likelihood of having a safe journey? Well, duh?

Malaysians have very strange ways of ordering their priorities. Crime and fraud to them are inevitabilities, not social ills. Laws to them are a method to make sure that power remains in the hands of those who already has it, rather than as a means to a safe and fair society.

I don't get it. I simply don't get it.

Every road I cross in Kuala Lumpur, I fear for my safety.

5 things I hate about Malaysia

2009-09-27T21:57:00.004+08:00

Earlier this week, I had visited Kuala Lumpur, capital of Malaysia. Now, I think I appreciate Singapore quite a bit more than before. I don't have many pictures, because Kuala Lumpur is generally an ugly place with nothing much to photograph. Furthermore, I simply wasn't in a photographic mood.

==

Just as Malaysia disappeared from the view of our small aicraft window, we started our descent into Kuala Lumpur. We were landing southwards, so we had to make a loop around Putrajaya before landing. Putrajaya's this really beautiful ghost city that was purported to be the future civic district or something, but in reality its roads were empty and deserted.

We made the final turn over some marshland and landed in Kuala Lumpur Inter nation Airport.

Thing I hate about Malaysia 1: Signboards, or the lack of them

It is nothing short of an insult when is greeted by an airport completely bereft of proper signboards.

Just 30 seconds of stepping out of our Singapore-registered plane, onto Malaysian property, I found myself lost. Now, where the fuck is the arrival hall?

I would think that its rather important to provide clear directions to it, since everyone would be looking for it, no?

I had to amble around aimlessly for about 200 metres, before I found a map.

I couldn't find the arrival hall in this map, so I had to glance sideways to the other map.

There it was, in another building.

Now, how do I get there?

Apparently there's some people mover at the end of the terminal that connects both buildings. We went to the station, only to find 2 platforms, so we waited in the middle, wondering which platform would be used. When it had finally arrived, we squeezed into the absurdly crowded people mover nose-to-armpit. Disgusting.

No signboards, no arrows, no guides. Just a map for you to figure out everything by yourself.

Insulting.

That is not the way any city should welcome its visitors.

Today is the day

2009-09-04T09:23:00.000+08:00

I'm changing my life. Yay.

There's only so much the body can take

2009-08-27T12:45:00.005+08:00

The adage goes: "what does not kill you, only makes you stronger."

But what if it does kill you?

Work in this month's department had been horrible - so much as as to break me down mentally and even physically.

I'm on sick leave because of a bout of nausea and diarrhoea, likely due to to the unhygienic practice of working and eating at the same time.

Here's how usual lunchtime goes: hurriedly type out some semblance of a discharge summary, and while the computer takes its obligatory 10-15 seconds to save it, grab 2 biscuits from the package using my left hand, which was previously flipping the pages of the case notes which was previously flipped by hands which had just touched the skin of patients which is probably faecal contaminated.

Yes I do know that it's not polite to wolf down food so rudely. I do know that it's gross and unhygienic. And I do know that biscuits are not proper lunch.

But what other choice do I have?

I can't grab a sandwich; it would take too much time and the nurses who had been pressuring me to get some tasks done on the other side of the building are already threatening me that they're going to inform my superior. I'd made some sarcastic comment about how she was being a bitch and how I have some bleeding patient or some sick patient who needed more attention than her sick obsession with paperwork. Stress makes all of us monsters. I've been catching not just me - but the nicest of my colleagues screaming at pharmacists and nurses for getting in the way of things - even if their intentions are good.

On the worst days we have just 2 doctors to handle more than 30 rather sick patients, a doctor-patient ratio that would be alarming even in third-world countries. It's a mad rush to get work done, and sometimes, it is impossible to get everything done. There's so much we could do for the patients, but simply have no time to do so. No matter how fast we walk, no matter how we make rude noises to get the tardy porters out of our way on the corridors, there's simply not enough time.

The number of corners we have to cut just to stay afloat disgusts me. We don't even have as much time to take proper medical histories and do physical examinations as the classically-overworked emergency department does. We make numerous medical errors in our work, but that's inevitable. It's a choice between giving all our patients substandard care; or giving some of our patients great care and for the other patients - no care at all.

It's exhausting.

It started out with random chest pains and palpitations - the unfortunate effect of chronic stress and anxiety.

There were days I had wanted to simply end it all. Yes, it was that bad.

And yesterday, I got the first sick leave I had taken in about 7 years. I really couldn't work, nauseated with such a bad tummyache.

I must not let my job kill me.

Great and I just received news that this posting will be extended 3 days because of manpower issues.

Life truly sucks. Will this nightmare ever end?

The Philosophy of Buying A Camera

2009-08-01T21:32:00.004+08:00

Over the past couple weeks, I have been faced with a Sisyphean task - yet again, I had to procure a camera as the old one had died. This time, it's for my brother's wedding.

It's a small private affair, so professional photography is out of the cards. Being the family photographer, I was saddled with the thankless task of capturing my own family members in various states of embarrassment.

The essence of the product

The current camera had died a premature death from overuse - so I had to get a new one. But before we head on to specifics, we have to get our definitions spot-on.

Define camera.

Yes, what is a camera?

To some, it's an oversized fashion accessory that people sling around their necks to express an facade of intellectual artistry.

To others, it's a trophy to prove one's economic worth. Sadly, cameras are often considered luxury goods, which is honestly a fucking insult to the credibility of photography as an art or a profession.

To me, it's a device that takes pictures. To hell with the vanity. It doesn't have to look credible or impressive. It doesn't have to have a level of complexity commensurate to my photographic abilities.

All it has to do is to take pictures effectively, at a level that I am satisfied of.

The absurdity of choice

The problem is existence is that we are forced to make decisions we have to stick with, even before we truly know what we're getting into.

We can only guess how much of the camera's zoom we're going to use, or the number of megapixels we really need.

We could mull and mull over the technical features of the camera and compare them with our perceived needs and wants, but it will only add to our existential angst.

Unless of course, you're a masochist who loves the pain of camera shopping.

In the big scheme of things, do the extra 8 times of zoom range matter to the way you live your life? How about your overall happiness? Or add any meaning to your life?

No, not really. They're all just minor distractions from the harsh reality of camera shopping.

As you can see, in camera-buying one is faced with a myriad of difficult decisions that, in the end, account to nothing meaningful.

The illusion of choice

So it was with pleasure that 2 of my potential choices, the Lumix FZ28 and the Canon SX10, were out of stock in most reputable shops in Singapore.

It was with pleasure that my pockets aren't infinitely deep, and I wasn't willing to spend more than $600 on a camera.

It was with pleasure that I knew I needed the following features for my photography. Long zoom, image stabilisation and manual controls.

It was with pleasure that there wasn't much of a choice left, as the Canon SX110 was the only camera in stock that fit my demands and my budget.

The choices that I was faced with was essentially an illusion. To be specific, I had the freedom to choose, but not to get what I choose.

Futility

So what if the wedding photographs turn out to be excellent?

Either way we print them on paper that is going to turn yellow and crumble.

Either way, they fade.

Either way, our eyes go blurry with age.

Either way, we fade.

The photos crumble and disintegrate, and our bodies fail us.

In the really big scheme of things, it's all the same outcome. When we die, the things we do end up as the inalienable past that the future would be based on. However, what meaning does it add to our expired lives?

None.

I hate my job

2009-07-27T21:59:00.000+08:00

Just like perhaps 90% of people on earth.

Futile isn't it? We work ourselves to death doing the things we don't want to do.

My comfortable blanket

2009-07-18T19:22:00.003+08:00

So I'm back again.

I took some time off blogging to try new writing styles and concepts, but it only made it more obvious to me that one can't deviate from his natural style for too long. It not only gets tiring, but it's just so damn pretentious.

I could pepper my blog with larger-than-life hyperbole and comical anecdotes, but it would take off as elegantly as a brick with a propeller.

I could write political discourse, but I don't have the interest.

I could write it like one of those many Bridget Jonesque self-depreciating commentaries, but, why?

Over the past 10 or so weeks I've learnt quite a bit.

I've learnt that I truly am not cut out for a life of achievement.

I've learnt that chilling out and doing nothing much at all is what I really want to do.

I've learnt that the world is a superficial one.

I've learnt that a nice haircut makes me more attractive.

I've learnt that there are females who had been attracted to me.

I've learnt that there are males who had been attracted to me.

I've learnt that work can be really, really tiring.

I've learnt that work is seldom rewarding.

I've learnt that I'm overworked and underpaid because people and their government both refuse to pay for their medical care.

I've learnt that I don't earn enough to avoid credit card application rejections.

I've learnt that it's really hard to work and lead a healthy lifestyle at the same time.

I've learnt a lot.

I'm still learning.

I'm

2009-06-17T22:02:00.000+08:00

feeling depressed.

And hopeless.

I dunno why I had just written this.

Work; Sleep

2009-06-03T23:59:00.002+08:00

I'm numb.

As expected, she ain't playing it nice.

I'm floating along. Just trying to justify being paid a salary.

Feeling like I'm in a foreign land, trying to understand languages I don't speak. Is this really MY country?

I don't exactly feel out of place here, but I know I'd be better off elsewhere. Maybe next year, I'll get that chance.

I don't love my job, but I don't hate it either.

Where do I go from here?

Where?

I'm afraid.

This blog is on temporary hiatus

2009-04-26T23:00:00.002+08:00

I'm gonna figure what I really want to write.

Mulling over a new blog project that would be somewhere else, under a different nickname.

No it's not that I'm gonna be too busy to blog or something. - With technology the way it is these days, blogging on the go is easy, especially on my hour long bus rides. There is no excuse for me to play the 'busy' card and let my linguistic skills go to ruin.

No, it's not any life events/potential libel/existential epiphany/illness that is stopping me.

I just want to re-evaluate my blogging goals and embark on a new blog project, ok?

Passed.

2009-04-18T10:24:00.001+08:00

I passed my final exams.

There's 'ass' in 'pass'. Hurhurhur.

Taiwan - Living

2009-04-15T22:27:00.002+08:00

Being earthquake-prone, most of their buildings aren't very tall.

Betel nut stalls. Apparently the better looking they are, the fewer betel nuts you get in a NTD$50 pack.

Ximending, youth shopping capital of Taipei. Pretty surprised that their HMV equivalent has one whole shelf of LGBT titles, and 2 shelves of pornography.

Student performance.

Taiwan - Buildings

2009-04-15T22:20:00.004+08:00

Streets of Taipei:

The facade of Five Cent Driftwood Restaurant, built by a lady who was once so poor she had to use rejected bricks and driftwood to build herself a home. Inspired by that, she went on to build restaurants using the experience she had gained.

Taipei 101:

Huge tuned mass damper.

Tallest completed building in the world, with the fastest lift in the world. Unbelievably, it's faster going up than down.

Chiufen, built on a cliff:

Taiwan - Cultural Attractions

2009-04-15T22:06:00.009+08:00

Ilan Cultural Village:

Fo Guang Shan near Kaoshiung:

At the foot of Alishan:

The Sao people making use of tourism and aggressively selling their Ling Zhi products:

Temple at Sun Moon Lake:

Aboriginal Cultural Village just off Sun Moon Lake, which is a discordant combination of an amusement parks (with roller coasters) and displays of how the indigenous people used to live:

They had a number of amusement park rides, including the UFO drop - a freefall ride. 2 water flumes too, and a blatant copy of Disney's Space Mountain which was a disappointment.

The park includes an European Garden, which has no relevance to indigenous Taiwan people at all.

Back in Taipei, and the National Palace Museum was a collection of Chinese antiques. The place was teeming with Chinamen, which was really frustrating.

The Grand Hotel in Taipei:

Taiwan - Food

2009-04-15T21:58:00.003+08:00

Taipei's famous Shilin Night Market, which has many smelly tofu, fried chicken cutlet and oyster omelette stalls.

'

Ximending sells something that tastes almost like roti prata, but came from China. Has spring onions in it.

Ah Zhong's flour noodles. Pretty tasteless actually. You buy it from a stall and eat it while standing up.

Shaved milky ice.

Their instant noodles has a pouch in it with real meat in it. Tasty. But pricey at a little more than NTD $48/SGD $2 each.

Pig's blood rice cake:

Tea eggs are everywhere, even in 7-11s. This pic shows huge goose tea eggs in the same pot as the usual chicken egg ones. One of the best ones come from the jetty opposite the Sao's island at Sun Moon Lake.

Traditional indigenous Taiwanese fare includes alot of glutinous rice.

Fried oysters are served with tomato sauce in Taiwan.

Taiwan - The Water of Taiwan

2009-04-12T20:55:00.005+08:00

Tamshui, in northern Taipei County, where the river mouth is:

Puke basin:

Sun Moon Lake:

This island is exclusive territory of the Sao tribe. Visitors are allowed on a floating platform around the island, but not the island itself.

Hydroelectric dam:

The place looks a lot better with some fog around.

The skies cleared by the next morning, revealing a boring looking lake.

Taiwan - The Rocks of Taiwan

2009-04-12T20:44:00.006+08:00

Taiwan is full of rocky mountains and rocky cliffs.

It's known for the Taroko gorge, which is cut from the marble mountains by the river that flows through it.

The Chinamen had to ruin it. The whole bloody country is teeming with those poorly-behaved louts. who play loud music in national parks and push rudely.

Sights in Hualien-Taitung area:

And rocks for sale:

Taiwan - Flora and Fauna

2009-04-10T10:12:00.011+08:00

Taiwan takes its flora and fauna seriously.

Random animals along the way:

Farms:

Ornamental pumpkin.

A custard apple-pineapple hybrid. Tastes weirdish. Like very hard custard apple.

Flowers. There are flowers grown everywhere in Taiwan:

One night in a resort farm (Nanyuan Resort Farm in Liouying Town, Tainan County) built in a huge garden. The wooden huts face the lake, and they lend out bicycles for visitors to explore the park. Also keeps a few specimens of animals.

Squeeze this fruit lightly and it uncoils and disperses its seeds.

Alishan national park:

Cherry blossoms were grown in the area during the Japanese occupation.

The Japanese also fell most of the red cypresses, some of which were more than a thousand years old.

This tall one is the oldest tree in the forest, being more than 2000 years old.

Heart-shaped.

It got really foggy on the way down Alishan.

Other assorted flora:

Taiwan - Transportation

2009-04-10T09:48:00.003+08:00

It's been barely 15 hours since I had come back to Singapore from Taiwan. On a tour round the whole of Taiwan island, in a clockwise loop from Taipei down to Hualien and all the way to Kaoshiung, then back up to Taipei again. On a tour bus.

The roads in Taiwan are treacherous. There are no hard and fast road rules. For example, in order to do a U-turn in Taiwan, you don't wait for the road to clear. You simply inch yourself into the lane, and expect the cars behind to slow down for you (if they ever do).

Village roads aren't so bad, they are all paved, until the next earthquake hits them and roads gotta be rebuilt again.

Red lights are merely suggestions and not part of the highway code to scooter users, who take the liberty of riding through reds, riding into wet markets and shopping on their scooters and riding on pavements. Scary shit.

The rubbish trucks play loud music to alert the surrounding residents to empty out the trash early.

Taiwan's high speed rail, takes 90 minutes from Taipei to Kaoshiung, it didn't really feel all that fast actually.

And their normal electric rail trains, which are very confusingly run by 5 classes of trains all of which are of different speeds.

Taiwan has cycle paths in Taipei and many scenic areas, but don't even try riding on their city roads. The reckless attitude of drivers in Taiwan makes it absolutely unsafe to ride in the city. I hardly see any cyclists in the city. Stick to public transportation. Taipei's MRT system is quite efficient and is quite a bit less crowded and alot more frequent than Singapore's in the evening peak hour.

City buses are often confusing. You board the bus from the front for some companies' buses, and from the back for others. However, intercity bus networks are quite extensive.

Post-exams

2009-04-02T00:45:00.002+08:00

Apparently no one really knows what to make out of the exams - it was easy in some ways, difficult in others, and sieving through the rumours that have been floating about is simply too painful to bear.

Whatever. I'll just wait for the official release of the results. Gosh this is depressing.

Right after the exams had ended, I had a very serious bout of diarrhoea, complicated by dehydration and antidiarrhoeal toxicity (felt woozy and had a headache and wanted to puke). Being sick throws a monkey wrench into everything. EVERYTHING.

I'm only barely recovering.

And this post is the first to be posted on my spanking new PC, to replace my notebook which has since suffered from multi-organ failure (trust me having only 2 USB ports left on a notebook is painful when you're dependent on both an external mouse and an external hard disk). Hard disk, DVD drive, monitor, keyboard, mouse all bought previously.

Will be going to Taiwan for the next week, hope there's free wifi there to keep you updated!

Weather looks good.

Exams are over!

2009-03-30T09:41:00.000+08:00

I'll blog more soon! Now to get my diarrhoea sorted...

The Omnipotent Paper Wad

2009-03-10T21:00:00.005+08:00

The Chinese is credited for having invented paper, which had revolutionised the use of written and printed language.

Gone are the days of landlords chasing tenants all around the town for payment - we now have lawyers' letters for that.

Gone are the days when we still had to carve our answers onto pebbles and throw them across the examination hall to our mentally-challenged friend - we now have paper aeroplanes for that.

However - while you idly scrunch up paper to place under your chair to stop it from rocking - has anyone ever sat down and wondered who had invented the paper wad?

Paper wads are to paper like Facebook is to (your ugly) face. It's all the awesomeness of paper processed, combined and compacted into one small package.

Disbelievers, you had better bow down to the drippingly-wonderful powerfulness of the paper wad.

I have used it successfully to fit short pen refills into long pens. Yes, those unreasonably short pen refills extracted from unreasonably short pens with unreasonably short lifespans.

Even as a kid, I was happily shooting paper wads at my classmates. Using various forms of propulsion including rubber bands, metal rulers and plastic straws.

I have used it to prop objects up for photography. Don't ask.

I have used it to fix a Boeing 747. Here's a pic of it, before I had embarked on Real Ultimate Macgyverism:

Ok, I admit it. I exaggerate. It's the window of a 747. The inner window. The one with no structural function whatsoever. It was rattling. I silenced it with a tiny wad of paper.

I have heard that in certain African countries, paper wads are a low-cost delicacy in the barren summer months. In certain more developed countries of excesses and waste, people would rather play with their food.

And today, I had found a new use for this omnipotent paper wad - as a hi-fi mod.

I had dismantled the woofers off my main JBL speakers so that my mom can help me bring them to the shop for repairs. Here's how the viscera of those expensive speakers look like:

So I had to use my tiny Altec Lansing speakers, which were so anaemic in bass, even playing manly music like Eye Of The Tiger made me feel like a prepubescent crossdresser.

And after modifying it with paper wads, I can now listen to Dancing Queen and still manage to beat off 10 men. The deep thumping bass makes me feel like Hulk Hogan in his pre-andropausal days!

I used a structural - yes, structural - wad to wedge the flimsy stand that was robbing the speakers of all the bassy goodness. Here's a structural wad alongside a conventional wad that underpaid Japanese salaryman chuck into rubbish bins to entertain themselves:

I then used some awesome Blutack (my friends tell me that the original Bostick Blutak is almost twice as awesome as the unbranded stuff) to mount them firmly on my desk. Big bassy things need even bigger, bassier, support to keep them still. Now, those speaker cones move against a support so rigid that Mrs Wacoal and Ms Triumph would be envious of.

The improvement was so phenomenal, I had never expected the bass to thump me that hard and I wet my pants a little bit. I wasn't wearing any underwear so that was particularly embarrassing.

But the music was lovely. And it made me a man again.

Yet another success for the paper wad!

Olive Backed Sunbird

2009-03-06T21:11:00.002+08:00

So now here I am, reporting another bird spotting right in my own home. I do not want to sound like Gerald Durrell, but such incidents really do amaze me.

As human beings, we keep our lives compartmentalised - farm animals are kept far away, hidden from us. Goldfish is kept in the fish tank in the corner. Pet hamsters stay in cages.

But we fail to realise that we are just 1 species in this earth filled with millions of different species. And as much as we breach the pristine rainforests that they have been living in for centuries, they in turn do not see our whitewashed buildings and noisy roads as exclusive human territory.

It's heartwarming that there are wild animals willing to make contact with us evil humans. Don't for a moment take that for granted. Would our neighbourhoods be as lovely without the chirping birds, cats busking under car engine heat and those lizards that make their stealth sorties across our walls?

==

So this evening, my dad was asking which of us had placed a bird figurine on our flat gate. We keep many bird figurines throughout our home, so my dad had assumed that it was one of them.

My mom said no.

I said no.

My brother wasn't at home but he wasn't home recently enough to have placed the bird there.

I was curious as to who had put that figurine there - was it a neighbour? - so I opened the door and took a look.

And right then I was joking to my mom about how there were so many bird figurines at home we can't tell which are real and fake.

It was a yellow-green ball of feathers. The wings fluttered just so subtly I said out in surprise: 'it's real!'

I grabbed my camera and took photos. Strangely the bird didn't budge even when I opened the gate. I took more photos, and the bird simply looked around lazily at the flies surrounding the corridor lamp.

Such incidents make me feel small. I'm just one little part of this whole existence thing. I'm just one of 7 billion people of a single species out of a million.

Right now, the sunbird is probably still perched there, lazily admiring the abominations that the human race had peppered this planet with.

It has something to do with the weather, I think

2009-03-05T23:43:00.004+08:00

My Acer notebook is dying an accelerated death. Is it the humidity? Or the incessant thunderstorms that also prevent me from getting any sunlight or exercise?

Although it has one last month of warranty left, the idea of bringing it into the service centre is too painful to bear. I'd sooner go to the dentist.

Firstly, the service centre is located in the western bowels of Singapore, all the way in Jurong.

Secondly, the waiting times there are horrible. They can stretch up to 2-3 hours.

Thirdly, the last time (that was the 3rd time) I had gone there, the air conditioning wasn't working.

Fourthly, to add fuel to the fire, a large part of Acer's customers are students and professionals in the IT industry. And many are foreign. And those stereotypes of geeks having poor personal hygiene? They're true after all. And no, don't let me go on about the malodourous tendencies of fresh-off-the-boat foreigners. I'm not being racist, but they really do have different standards of personal hygeine ingrained into their culture.

I really couldn't bear the thought of going there again.

So here's how it all started:

The monitor went splotchy, so I went out and bought a spanking new 20 inch Samsung. They're really cheap these days, it wasn't too long ago when 19 inch panels had cost almost 400.

And now, this 1600x900 behemoth costs only $217. Being the easily-impressed me, I was totally satisfied with my new purchase, and was blissfully using Google Earth when that annoying yellow bubble popped up from the corner of the screen.

The CPU was precipituously close to overheating. Yet again. When you hear of 90 degree CPU temperatures, you know it had gotta be Acer.

So I got trusty Mr Steady Screwdriver and Ms Twiggy Tweezers out and cleaned it out by myself. It was a pain. I think I had lost count after the 10th screw and there were almost 30 of them in all.

After a considerable amount of sweat, 2 oozy cuts on my fingers and thankfully no tears, I got the job done. CPU temperatures look pretty alright this time round, it's about a 15 degree improvement, but the graphics processor still overheats. Probably because the thermal pad had disintegrated in my fingers when I had removed the heat sink. Might have to open it up and add an aluminium shim to fill the gap if this persists.

And then I realised that one of my USB ports no longer worked.

I give up. No more heroic measures. It's like a raging bushfire. Fix one problem, and another 2 pop up.

Not to mention, my speakers need their foam surrounds replaced. A troublesome, but not terminal condition.

Now my desk has as many buttons, switches and bright lights as a cockpit.

And speaking of cockpits (get your mind out of the gutter!), in a month my exams would have ended and I'd be off to a trip to Taiwan, on a Singapore Airlines 777. The agency offered China Airlines, but it's against my principles to support a company that buries about 40 people annually for the past 15 years.

I have a theory. The safety of an airline is proportional to the safety of the country's roads.

Aussie roads are incredibly well-signposted, the drivers are cautious and polite. Qantas has never killed anyone in the past 50 years.

Take a look at how people drive in India and Indonesia, then take a look at the airlines in those countries. You get the idea.

As for Taiwan's China Airlines, I've read many horror stories about the roads in Taiwan too.

==

Revision for the huge ass exams isn't going too good. There's so much, there's so many possibilities that I feel like every single hour spent revising is akin to mucking around in the dark. Very demotivating.

I wish I have Somebody behind me to hurry me along. Somebody behind me to give appropriately-timed pats on the shoulder.

Somebody who cares.

Somebody to love.

Can anybody find me somebody to love? Each morning I get up I die a little.

A morning jog

2009-02-23T23:32:00.002+08:00

Who says you can't watch trees shedding their leaves in the wind, littering the grass with the various shades of autumn?

Who says we don't have historical parks from the early 20th century?

Who says we don't have fauna around us? It's just that you don't notice the yellow-vented bubuls playing in mid-air, the brahminy kite circling the reservoir, the egrets flying high.

Who says we don't have admirable lily ponds?

It's times like this I feel lucky to have all these within jogging distance.

The weather still fascinates me

2009-02-15T23:47:00.004+08:00

On Sunday, the weather station recorded a peak of 35 degrees Celsius, which was not seen for at least a month. Just last month we had experienced the driest and windiest January in years. I really hope these temperatures aren't here to stay. The haze has also made a comeback for the past 3 days due to the forest fires in the Riau Islands.

Fortunately, it's nothing compared to the tragic fires that had engulfed the state of Victoria on Australia.

The weather's not the only thing that's dry and barren. My love life is equally barren, judging by how I had spent my Valentine's alone again. I guess it's because I'm picky.

I've always been looking for another me, someone I can live comfortably with and share my experiences with. But is it even possible to find another me? I should just let go of myself and allow myself to be swept off my feet by the varied lifestyles of those outside my comfort zone.

But it's harder said than done.

I'm still feeling sickish, bloody hell. I don't have the energy to do what I want. I miss my bicycle and my running shoes. THe last time I tried cycling at this level of sickishness, it wasn't nice. It wasn't nice at all.

==

Anyway in other news, Slumdog Millionaire, the British-directed Indian film that had won numerous awards , is out in Singapore and it's a good watch. Its emotionally engaging scenes make for an unforgettable movie and the occasional bursts of mirthless humour keeps it from being too serious. You'd love it.

What a day to feel under the weather

2009-02-06T22:46:00.002+08:00

In terms of weight, I'm still a 71+2.2=73.2. In other words, still a Boeing 737-200.

Feeling under the weather, got a chest infection brewing methinks.

I'm really having trouble writing this entry. It's not a paucity of ideas, but rather, what do I want my audience to hear?

I could whine about my eternal loneliness. Or school. Or how I still wonder why I am so unpopular that I keep on seeing my friends being tagged on Facebook for the '25 things' note but as for myself, I was never ever tagged. (Richie's 16 things doesn't count. because 4 squared is NOT 5 squared)

Or the fact that I'm spending my birthday alone, stewing at home.....

The newspapers have had some pretty amazing headlines these days: Singapore TV licence fee among world's lowest

And a forum letter clarifying how a previous day's article 'take-up rate' was not the same as 'pick-up' rate for breast mammography. Is the standard of English in Singapore so pathetic that this needs such specific clarification?

You take up mammography. You don't pick up mammography. Because mammography is not a skill you learn, such as golf or knitting.

Mammography picks ups tumours. Mammography doesn't take up tumours. If it did take up tumours, then wouldn't it be a method of TREATING tumours, since a mammogram would somehow magically 'take up' the tumour, leaving only healthy breast tissue?

Many Singaporeans don't even know English. it's a wonder how they are able to communicate with the other Singaporeans of other races. If Singapore really wants to be multiracial, then let's focus our efforts on learning a common language - English, rather than alienating those of htoer races by speaking in one's so-called Mother Tongue.

So-called, because none of my family or extended relatives speak the Mother Tongue at home.

Whatever. Just learn English, okay?

Weak

2009-02-02T07:14:00.002+08:00

Quite surprised at how weak I feel after a slow 5km run. Argh my running prowess is way off.

That's a Boeing 737. Yay. As confirmed by 2 separate readings I'm officially starting to lose fat.

They weighed me in the clinic

2009-01-30T22:31:00.003+08:00

and for the first time in my life, I've been called a jumbo jet. I've been called many names before, but a jumbo jet? That's an enormous insult. With the advent of the Superjumbo Airbus A380, this only counts as the 2nd-worst insult one can possibly have about his weight, but it's only a minor consolation.

The bright LED lights on the weighing machine screamed out "74.7". I know I'm actually a little lighter than that (my home scale says so), but gosh, the symbolism!

That's it. I'm going to add a correction factor of 2.2kg on the reading on my scale, so that I have a reference point to start from. From today onwards, apart from passing my impending exams, my main life goal would be to lose weight. And gain fitness. Mainly the weight part.

I've been eating rather uncontrollably lately due to emotional issues, and exercising less. I NEED to correct this root of the problem. And stop using food as a coping mechanism.

I'm already in the midst of understanding myself better and getting in control with my emotions, but food had always been a coping mechanism for me since I was little. I don't think its possible to completely avoid that, but I sure am going to mitigate the intensity of my emotional eating.

So, there. That's my 2nd life goal for now. And I hope that you, eager blog readers, will be supportive of it. Actively supportive.

I'm making the first step by putting my goal and plans on public, so that there's some accountability.

And I'll report back with pictures of Boeing 737s, 727s and 707s when I reach the corresponding weights.

Wish me luck.

I'd really love to post a photo of a Gulfstream G650 here.

The sun was envious of

2009-01-29T23:33:00.003+08:00

the moon for having a lunar new year, so on the first day of the lunar new year, it pretended that it was a moon.

January 26 2009 Solar Eclipse

At about 5pm.

Obscured by clouds.

==

And if you were one of the 5 or so caucasian cyclists who had waved/said hi/smiled when I cycled past, I didn't mean to ignore you. I was pushing myself rather hard and didn't have any breath to save for friendly greetings.

Bishan, Mandai, Old Upper Thomson Road, hills@Upper Peirce, then Bishan again. Was pretty good training for my climbing technique.

Friction

2009-01-24T20:55:00.002+08:00

I scraped my knees pretty badly.

Being a cyclist, I should be used to this, But ironically, I wasn't cycling. I wasn't even engaging in sport.

I was walking on a stone pavement when my Nike shoe's sole decided to delaminate and fold under my foot. I tripped over that folded bit.

Damn.

Feeling so tired lately

2009-01-23T00:04:00.004+08:00

Is it the weather? It has not rained since the beginning of the year, which is VERY unusual for Singapore.

Singapore had moved out of the Intertropical Convergence Zone which is usually responsible for our wet and stormy equatorial weather.

The clear, colourful sunrises and sunsets these days look like those I had seen in Australia.

The flora has been drying out. The ground is littered with leaves that crackle when you step on them.

I'm just feeling too tired, and too physically lazy to ride on my new wheels.

Mavic Aksiums, bought from Chain Reaction Cycles online at a good discount. I'm making good use of the weak UK pound.

Hammer-hardened 'eyelets', which replace traditional eyelets. Still, way better than having neither to prevent spokes pulling out of the rim.

Sealed bearing hubs. Bladed spokes.

Warning: Made in China. Thanks for the heads-up, Mavic.

Matches my silver groupset and white/black frame better than my old wheels did.

I don't really know how well they perform, only having rode them just once in nasty cross- and headwinds. Not a good way to judge a wheelset's performance.

I can't wait for Chinese New Year break, to escape the tension and hustle of school just for a little while.

Lulz

2009-01-20T08:27:00.003+08:00

Pretty amusing. The people involved in the previous post didn't take kindly to it. They claimed I had made false accusations (my word against theirs) which I still vehemently stand by. Previous groups have had similar experiences as me.

Looks like I'll have to retract the post, since they decided to threaten me with reporting it to the school. (Does the school have any say about what goes on in private? This is Singapore, shit happens, so I won't bet on the school respecting boundaries.)

I really feel bad for Okay Girl.

Was it worth it? If they realise the way others view them, then yes it is all worth it.

The irony is that the confrontation was the only time I got them to listen to me. Trust me, it was really refreshing to have been able to speak more than 2 sentences at a go, AND have them listen without interrupting.

Everyone's so caught up in their cocoons, there's no way to really talk about things until they blow up.

In other news, end of posting test went well. Had a good chat with an old friend. Getting sick of the windy rainless weather. And bad knee.

2009 - the boiling point

2009-01-12T21:02:00.003+08:00

Singaporean society has officially reached its boiling point when a disgruntled citizen immolates a member of parliament in public and receives admiration - and not disgust - in return.

Seng Han Thong of the ruling People's Action Party was attending a community function when a disgruntled retiree threw thinner onto his face and back and promptly set him alight with a lighter. He had suffered 10-15% burns on his body and needs skin grafting.

The news had spread like wildfire, and the responses of Singaporeans have been even more shocking than the incident itself.

Most feel that Seng Han Thong had it coming - he had been physically attacked by a angry citizen 2 years ago. Others feel secretly proud of the attacker, for doing what many have fantasied about but did not dare to do.

There are many who feel the urge to lash out at the government, its representatives and its icons, and I can see where they're coming from.

People are angry about the apparent inaction of the government regarding inflation and the rising cost of living.

People are angry that our government-controlled media is looking more and more ridiculous as compared to the internationally-reputed news sources we find on the Internet.

People are angry that our government had 'privatised' most of our public services while maintaining majority ownership, so that it could charge 'private' market-rates for energy, transport and healthcare.

People are angry that our government had been largely apathetic about the DBS High Notes fiasco, despite repeated calls for the government to investigate if there had been mis-selling of the product.

People are angry that our government had been largely apathetic about the clandestine investments that the town councils had made using its sinking funds. It was only when losses had happened that citizens were informed of such investments. Until now, the magnitudes of profits and losses are still a mystery. People want to know how it links to their ever-increasing town council fees.

People are angry that our government has forsaken our local talents to fund generous scholarships for foreign academics and sportsmen in the hope that they will generate better returns for the country than the locals.

People are angry that our government was rude and callous about the death of one of our political heroes, just because he rallied for the opposition.

One of our national heroes of 2008 is Tan Kin Lian, former supporter of the PAP who is brave enough to disagree with the government's actions regarding its recent actions.

One of our national heroes of 2008 is well-respected criminal lawyer Subhas Anandan who is brave enough to express his doubts if the law applies equally to both the rich and poor.

People of prominent social standing are finally getting their voices heard. And for the first time, this is the voice that resonates with the people of Singapore, rather than the government of Singapore.

Singapore is gradually understanding the true meaning of the phrase in our pledge: 'democratic society'.

It means having a government that represents the people. Not one that represents itself.

Before 2009

2009-01-01T16:20:00.005+08:00

The Shimano Wheel Incident
I was desperate enough to send my experience to STOMP, but alas, nothing. No news, but a cryptic email pushing the buck to the local middleman of the distribution chain. I replied to that email, but alas, no reply again.

This is getting nowhere, and I think I might have no choice but to cut my losses and send a snail-mail to the American office, detailing the bad experience I had had with the Shimano wheel and worse of all, their customer service.

And no, I still have not gotten the wheel back after 2 weeks.

Bicycle ride to Seletar Airport
A lazy afternoon, watching the birds and the planes.

Youth Flying Club students landing the planes, some doing very decently, others looking like they had almost crashed the plane. That was because of the stiff crosswind that was blowing almost directly perpendicular to the runway, with a component of tailwind (bad also).

What they do in the landing seems to be pointing the nose at an angle to counter the wind, then using the rudder to straighten the plane near the runway, a process called sideslipping.

Weather was crazy hot. The YFC guys finished their training and all was silent - for a long while.

Except for mynahs, eagles, sparrows, egrets, butterflies and dragonflies, there were nothing flying in the area. Zilch. I was looking forward to looking at passenger turboprops land and take off.

It was only after a long long while before i saw landing lights from the other direction. The wind direction changed and they reversed the active runway! I cycled to the other end, via a very muddy and pothole-ridden road. Ouch.

USA registered jet in the background. Also saw a Hansung Airlines ATR72. Then saw a couple of planes take off, including a 737!

Military C130 from Oman on tow.

Lockheed L-100-30 Hercules from South Africa leased to East Asia Response Limited, a company that handles oil spills in this region.

Meeting up with Fadz and Kun
made me realise that the people I hang around with in school have made me all but oblivious to humanity and entertainment. People in my faculty are so bitchy, so self-centred and so achievement-driven that I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing in it.Every day I'm around them, a part of me dies.

Thank goodness for friends outside school.

The EDMW Super Lonely Hearts Supper Club New Year Eve Outing

A bunch of us online forumers went to Changi Airport for dinner (to avoid the crowds).

Lots of food for 7 people. The chicken tastes better than when I had eaten it in the middle of 2008, though the chicken pieces were still very variable in size.

We headed on to City Hall area for the fireworks.

Human traffic jams abound, mainly due to the pushy (literally) foreigner population in Singapore. The police had almost lost control of the situation when the crowd had repeatedly refused to move. They opened up a barricade just as we were in that area, so we had managed to get a good spot for the fireworks.

We were so close we could feel the blasts of hot air from the fireworks. Without further ado, the pictures:

We hung around for a while, waiting for the crowd to disperse before we took the late night Nightrider bus home.

The sweet thing about online outings is that everything's so relaxed. There's no expectations, no jostling for attention, no haughty arrogant braggarts that I was previously so used to.

Whew. That was a lot of pictures.

Worth

2008-12-28T19:54:00.002+08:00

Who am I kidding? I am worthless.

It matters not what I consider myself to be worth. It matters not what my closer friends or family think. It's all about the rules of society, and if I' in this game of life then, yes, those rules apply to me.

I don't currently contribute to society's talent pool, neither do I earn any taxable income. I'm not a stellar student in school who classmates flock to for examination answers and tips. I'm nobody.

I could disappear off the face of Earth and no one except my family would notice. In fact, some people would rather have me dead, leaving more air, food and other resources for their enjoyment.

There comes a time in life when one grows up and realises that the life and death of strangers play absolutely no part in his life, and might possibly be beneficial to himself. He then stops feeling pity or sadness whenever he hears of someone he doesn't know perishing.

Then he realises that many friendships are just vanity - that their lives mean nothing to him unless they have something beneficial to offer him, or that he had invested too deeply into the friendship. Say, if a casual friend dies, does it really affect him? No.

That's the problem. The people I know have grown up. They're cutting ties with relatively unimportant people (i.e. me) and focusing their efforts on bootlicking those who are rich and influential.

Gone are the days of 'I like to hang out with him because he's intelligent and interesting' or 'we have something in common'.

It's all 'I network with him because he knows soandso' or 'I so gotta meet up with him, he knows of all those tricks of the trade'.

I don't have anything to offer anyone, really. I'm worthless by society's standards.

It's lonely at the bottom.

Bike Crash Investigation

2008-12-20T22:42:00.003+08:00

It's just like Air Crash Investigation, only that it involves a bicycle. And it involves me. There's the dramatic crash, the speculation and theories, then the visit to the scene and some science.

Yes, I experienced a catastrophic failure of my Shimano RS10 bicycle wheel. The front one. That's the one that makes the cyclist lose control instantly.

I should have started noticing the signs:

1. These wheels and its predecessor R550 are notorious for eating up spokes for breakfast
2. There were ominous pinging sounds from the front wheel 2 rides ago. I assumed there were just the spokes bedding into their proper position, since they were new.
3. My average speed had dropped this and last ride. I attributed it to fatigue, but it might have been an untrue rim or faulty wheel hub.

All these signs don't point to any specific mechanistic point of failure, but if I took them seriously, then maybe, just maybe, I would have picked up an early sign of failure of my wheels.

It's one of those 'just riding along' incidents, where nothing was hit, no vehicle, no pothole, no squirrel in the spokes.

The wheel simply exploded, through its own volition. I have piss poor luck these days.

5 spokes pulled out of the rim, the hub was literally floating in thin air as all the spokes rapidly detensioned, and the front wheel had effectively disappeared under me.

I'm still reeling of the shock of surviving a catastrophic front wheel failure with nothing more than 3 spots of road rash and a couple of faint bruises. No sprains, strains or fractures.

But my shifter and rear deraileur have superficial scratches. And my new jersey has a small hole on it.

The cyclist in Trek garb, the taxi driver, the bike shop guys and the bike shop customers were flabbergasted by the severity of the wheel failure. And they realise they're talking to a very obviously ok rider who isn't in any real pain. Must have been a dramatic sight.

It wasn't easy getting a road bike in a taxi boot, and $5.60 to get from one end of Ang Mo Kio to the other is really daylight robbery, what with the falling oil prices and all.

And my bike is out of action for now. Though the frame and fork are okay. No scratches, no bends or cracks.

Thank goodness for the nice and helpful guys at Chapter 2 Cycle. They're getting it replaced under warranty for me. I'm prolly gonna get my bike running again come Monday or Tuesday.

Went home, showered, convinced my parents that I was fully okay, then went out for a jog to the site of the incident. Actually I cheated, I took the bus up the steep uphill stretch. I didn't want to overtrain ad I had not run in weeks.

I retrieved 5 severely bent spokes that my wheel had ejected after the crash, together with my cyclocomputer magnet.

All the spokes that had pulled through the spoke holes were bent. They look like they were compressed from the ends rather than struck by an object in the middle. Unlikely due to a pothole (I checked again - none) or road debris then. Most likely rim failure.

But why? Just take a look at the spoke nipples.

The flanges of the nipples that rested on the rim holes were unreasonably small for a 16-spoke wheel. I compared them to conventional gauge spoke nipples. The latter had a much larger flange, despite the fact that they didn't have to handle as much tension - those are used in wheels with 32 spokes to share the load.

The taper of the flange probably acted as a punch, progressively enlarging the rim hole and subsequently pulling through. These nipples are a new design and are also used on the RS20 wheelset. Shimano's technical drawings show that the previous generation R550 had nipples on the hub end rather than the rim end, with an oversized spoke head on the rim side.

The nagging ache of road rash made me feel grumpy throughout the day.

Looks like I'll have to correspond with Shimano regarding this. Might blow up into a mass recall, if the design of the spoke nipples is indeed unsafe. Not to mention, I want fair compensation for all that had been damaged or hurt by the failed wheel. It had failed under normal riding forces so naturally it's Shimano's fault.

Speaking to acquaintances about what had happened, I'm very disappointed that they're more interested in how I fell and knowing if I was negligent, rather than even wanting to find out how I was.

If you want to know:
I wore a helmet but my head wasn't anywhere near the ground.
I did not hit anything, but the wheel failed anyway.
I wore gloves, but I didn't fall on my palms.
I check my bike before ever ride, but nothing was going to tell me that it was about to fail.
I wasn't riding at unreasonable speeds, I wasn't so foolish as to choose a lightweight wheelset, and most of all, don't talk to me like I had deserved this.

Bloody hell, are these even my friends?

The best advice and support I had gotten comes from the other side of this Earth, over the electrical cables of the Internet: Bike Forums.

Guess the headline!

2008-12-15T23:02:00.004+08:00

Here's a quick quiz.

Click on the correct headline out of a choice of 4 possible answers. Correct answer and you'll see the actual headline from today's Straits Times, wrong answer and you don't.

The infographics:

The headline:

Congestion remains despite road pricing
Traffic falls as travel habits change
Public perception of ERP poor, but roads are less congested
Old habits die hard even with new ERP gantries

Got the answer? Probably not.

You would have expected more journalistic integrity from a national newspaper.

Memory

2008-12-11T09:35:00.003+08:00

I have piss poor memory.

Which makes me wonder. What the hell am I doing in a university course where students are known to have memories so good they put herds of elephants to shame. They remember mnemonics at a drop of a hat, and as for me, I don't even remember how to spell 'mnemonics'. Yes. I do use spell check.

If you attend social function and have strangers telling you 'you mean you don't recognise me?' or if you have to repeat to yourself someone's name over and over again so that you can remember it, then you probably can empathise. Sometimes, I think there's something seriously wrong with my brain. It's depressing.

Ever since I was a student in primary school, I had relied much on my logical deduction and 'smoking' abilities to impress teachers. Really, I could hardly remember the facts that I had needed to. In Chinese Laguage lessons, we had to memorise a passage of about 50 words eevry week, which we will write out and be graded on the accuracy of memorisation and the correctness of the strokes in the word. I recall that being the single most painful assignment in primary school.

Which explains how I was the lowest for the batch in secondary 2 History, a subject notorious for the sheer amount of memory haulage needed. Other subjects like Human Geography was easier - all you had to do was to have a basic grasp of the situation, then think up all the various possibilities that might happen. Sciences were a no-brainer because everything was reasonable, deducible and logical.

I had the false impression hat doctors were people who did a lot of logical reasoning and information synthesis, piecing together information from various aspects to deduce a diagnosis and think up treatment strategies. That was the kind of thing I read in Reader's Digest and watched on television. Those Reader's Digest articles almost invariably talk about some doctor who took the extra mile to research up and think about a perplexing clinical problem, eventually finding the answer through sheer intellect.

Real life medicine is not like that. In medical school, we get grilled on the 5 types of neuropathy, the list of various causes of a symptom and all sorts of regurgitation-heavy questions. There's little opportunity for critical thought.

'You do things in this order because that is what the professors in the textbook say. If you are a professor you do it your own way, but you are NOT. So follow the textbook.' was what one of my tutors told me. Just memorise. Imitate. Do what your seniors do. Don't try to stick out like a sore thumb in the name of accuracy and truth, because the senior is always right, and to demolish that illusion would end up in bitter feud.

So it's particularly painful for me when I'm this poor at remembering stuff. It's not just about motivation - I simply wasn't born with the skills to memorise. I'm at wit's end, because my inability is almost disabling - I won't be able to excel in this career. I still have trouble attaching names to faces. And it bugs me to no end.

Sigh.

Q. E. D.

2008-12-06T14:29:00.003+08:00

purpose? says:
are you going for chunk fest?
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
DUNNO
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
YOU?
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
shit
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
i forgot
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
my caps lock
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
and spectacles
kc is in love with FIGHT LIKE APES says:
at the same time
purpose? says:
damn

And thus, the Swiss Cheese model of accidents and errors was demonstrated.

"The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system, and are continually varying in size and position in all slices. The system as a whole produces failures when all of the holes in each of the slices momentarily align, permitting (in Reason's words) "a trajectory of accident opportunity", so that a hazard passes through all of the holes in all of the defenses, leading to a failure."

A reply from Mcdonalds

2008-12-06T09:15:00.003+08:00

So the mysterious call that I did not manage to pick up in time was indeed them. Here's the reply they posted on my blog, quoted in verbatim:

Dear Ms Lee,

We are sorry to hear of your unpleasant experience with our Mega McSpicy. At McDonald’s, we take all feedback on our food very seriously and will not, at any time, compromise on the stringent food safety standards in place.

Since receiving your email on 29 November, Mr Raymond Tan, Business Consultant for McDonald’s Bishan Junction 8 has been attempting to reach you on your mobile to no avail. Nonetheless, because of the strong stance we take on food safety, we have sent samples of our McSpicy for testing and would very much like to speak to you to further aid us in our investigation.

We would very much appreciate it if you could contact Mr Raymond Tan at 6462 0800, if you do not hear from him today.

Claudia Yeo
Communications Department
McDonald’s Restaurants

To Claudia Yeo and the rest of Mcdonalds. Thanks for listening. It's good that Mcdonalds is taking action.

First of all, it's Mr Lee, not Ms Lee. But you can call me KC. A harmless but very embarrassing error.

To be honest, after all that fiasco. I will still eat at Mcdonalds, but that is entirely dependent on whether its promotions are good (if not there's always the $2 Double Cheeseburger!), because I prefer other fast food chains the days I want to splurge.

Nevertheless, I will give my full cooperation when they call me, I won't call them because I don't know of anything that might be useful to them that I don't already have on this blog.

The vegetarians have something to say. They have used my experience to try to justify why meat and fast food is bad, but ended up with a non-sequitur. With arguments like "signal from the Above", who needs logic?

I love animals.

Therefore, by extension, I love all types of animals - including chickens, pigs and cows.

And by extension, I love the parts of animals - including chicken wings, pork chops and beef steaks.

Meat is murder. But it's just the way the ecology works, we can't help being omnivores, the same way the deadly crocodiles can't being carnivores.

Time to munch into my tasty lo mai gai breakfast.

Burger King's Quad Stacker

2008-12-04T22:35:00.002+08:00

A titbit of information that I have omitted from the previous entry on the Mega McSpicy that had given me diarrhoea - I had a Burger King Quad Stacker the day before the McSpicy. And it tasted surprisingly good. And it did not give me any diarrhoea.

Here's the review which I had originally written the evening after I had the McSpicy:

Some say the BK Quad Stacker takes balls of hardened steel to consume.

Others say that those who had eaten the bk stacker are able to hide for months in the depths of the Amazonian forests before devouring their next meal.

But I had managed to eat it. And live to tell the tale.

Aptly, this thing looks like the mushroom clouds of atomic bomb explosions. It's not as good as the whopper, but the patties were juicy and done just-right, unlike Mcdonald's thin wafers of beef-flavoured cardboard.

Some have been unhappy with how soggy the burger turned out to be, but mine seems to have been done quite alright. The combination of generous amounts of beef and stringy cheese makes it tasty.

Don't even try to fathom the amount of saturated fat this monster has in its crispy turkey bacon, 4 juicy patties and 4 whole slices of cheese.

My main gripe: the lack of veges and pickles. those may taste like crap by themselves but adds to the taste of a burger.

I liked it, but to be honest, I'm more comfortable sticking to Whoppers, and hoping that the Triple Whopper might someday appear in Singapore.

A letter to Mcdonalds Singapore

2008-11-29T01:07:00.004+08:00

Update: As of Monday night, Mcdonalds has not gotten back to me. Not an email, not a call. Wanted to send an email to the authorities to look into the matter but I honestly don't know which jurisdiction food safety is under - Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority, National Environmental Agency or Health Sciences Authority? I'd be glad if you could help me get this message to the masses.

i.e. if you have a weak stomach, AVOID MEGA MCSPICY AT ALL COSTS.

Forumers in Hardwarezone have been experiencing the same problem with their Mega Mcspicys.

==

Hi, I had a Mega Mcspicy for lunch on 28 November 2008 at around 1.30pm, from your Junction 8 branch.

The service was excellent - I have nothing but praises for it. However the food gave me diarrhoea.

There's something in your spice mixture that not only stings the tongue, but also the stomach, then the intestines. I felt horrible the whole day after lunch, with this burning feeling in my tummy gnawing at me. It was as though the chewed and digested Mega Mcspicy burned whatever part of my body it was in contact with.

This cumulated into several bad episodes of very painful diarrhoea at midnight. Being medically trained, I knew that it wasn't harmful yet so I did not see a doctor.

A quick search on Google shows that I'm not the only one.

Google search of 'mcspicy diarrhoea'

====

Some quotes:
"I’m suffering from diarrhoea now. I should thank the McSpicy I had yesterday in school’s Mcdonalds. I don’t know why, but everytime after I finished the McSpicy, I have this tinkling hot feeling in my stomach. "

"Weak stomach my love!!
Mcspicy also will kena food poisoning =X
Stupid mcspicy chicken! Spoil my saturday night!"

"The first night I had McSpicy burger at 4am. By which I had diarrhoea shortly after."

"stupidly had a mcspicy for lunch (when the last time i had it, i had diarrhoea ), and my stomach felt alll weird. like the insides were burning."

====

Your company should really take a look at this. Whatever it is that you have in the Mcspicy spice mix is causing quite a few people the same symptoms of burning discomfort and diarrhoea.

Not to mention, the spicy burn really does detract from the enjoyment of the otherwise-tasty chicken pieces in the Mega Mcspicy.

It would be nice if you could look into this seriously - issues regarding food safety and health should not be overlooked - and take appropriate action.

If there are any updates regarding this problem, please keep me informed!

Also, is there a way to order a non-spicy version of a Mega Mcspicy? I have never liked spicy food in the first place, and neither do some people I know.

Thank you.

Say Hello to White Beauty!

2008-11-23T20:19:00.008+08:00

I don't have a penchant of giving names to the inanimate objects I own. Hell, I never had names for any of the pets I've ever owned. But sometimes, certain items are just asking to be named, you know?

If it's big and has jet engines, it's hard not to call it a Jumbo Jet.

If it's green and hideous, it's hard not to call it a Green Goblin.

If it's white and beautiful, it's hard not to call it a White Beauty. Say hello to White Beauty. She's my new ride.

I've always wanted a road bike, simply because everyone else who rides in my area uses one. I don't make full use of the offroad capabilities of my old Unnamed Blue GT. The last time I had offroaded was in October 2006.

And watching the cross country mountain biking event in the Olympics on TV only galvanised my decision to stop offroading for good. Even professional racers fall and get themselves hurt badly - just look at the Swiss riders. What hope is there of me enjoying the sport whilst escaping from its scrapes, bruises and broken bones?

Unnamed Blue GT grew old. It needed a new chain, a new headset, possibly a new crankset and bottom bracket too. With the numerous parts that had been going south lately, it stopped being cost effective to keep it alive.

I needed a new steed.

I needed a road bike with componetry good enough for me to not want to swap them out. A road bike that I would be able to race should I decide to.

Something kitted out in Shimano 105, preferably.

That would be the Giant TCR Alliance Team, boasting a frame made of both aluminium and carbon fibre and fitted with 10-speed Shimano 105 components.

The Giant TCR's frame geometry has been race tested by the professional elite level cyclists of Team T-Mobile/Team Highroad/Team Columbia/whatever they decide to call themselves today.

Not to mention, it's made by the biggest bicycle frame manufacturer in the world. They don't call themselves Giant for nothing.

This particular bike uses the same livery as the T-Mobile team bikes for the year 2008. Sweet. It's only too bad that Team T-Mobile was struck with doping scandals bad enough for them to regroup as Team Highroad, followed by Team Columbia. The 2009 Giant TCR Alliance Team however would eschew the beautiful white and pink of 2008 and replace it with a dull black/silver.

I had to get that bike. I'm not getting any younger, and I have to spend my youth doing the things I want to do, and not wait until a mid-life crisis to get a bike I truly like, only to ride it with arthritic knees.

I ordered it, on Thursday, they had it in the shop on Friday, but I could only make it on Saturday. The guys at Chapter 2 Cycle rock. Ben the Bike Shop Guy said that there were people asking about my bike on Friday, and he had to tell them its not for sale as it's the last piece of that size the distributor had.

It's a pleasant surprise when I noticed that the wheelset was the newer RS10 rather than the R550 which had some pretty bad reviews online. And the tyres were a more durable (but probably slower) Michelin Dynamic.

Enough talk. How's the ride?

The riding position is extremely stretched out and aggressive, even for a medium sized frame. After all, it does share the same geometry as the elite level TCR, so you're expected to stretch and bend over like a pro. To ride on the drops, you need crazy flexibility.

Thank goodness I'm still young. Ultimately, after 45km with lots of climbs this morning, my back ain't aching. Good enough.

The carbon fibre fork and half-carbon frame soaks up all the small bumps and road chatter perfectly - even more so than my mountain bike did. The steering behaved really well over larger bumps.

I'm still trying to get used to steering on a road bike. Due to the narrow handlebars, you don;t get much leverage and have to steer almost entirely by leaning into turns. But taking bends at high speed is remarkably stable on a road bike, due to the smooth rounded tyres.

As for climbing ability, I don't know if it's because my old GT already climbs like a billy goat on steroids, or that climbing ability is more about the rider than the bike, but it didn't seem much faster on my road bike.

The TCR Alliance Team uses a compact crankset, which means its 50/34T rather than 53/39T. Not such a good idea for Singapore's terrain, considering we don't get any really steep hills here. As a masher rather than a spinner, I find myself in the large chainring too often.

This mean machine flies on the straights, cutting through the air and winds in a way my old GT could never do. Unfortunately, wrong day to ride - I got overtaken by 2 roadies. And that's in my usual route where I hardly get overtaken, even on my old GT, at a lower speed. It's especially demoralising on my maiden ride as a roadie......

I'm in love with my new bike.

More photos:

Life

2008-11-18T22:08:00.002+08:00

I made new friends. Yay.

Makes me think twice about getting the road bike. I won't be able to join them, or any slack pavement/offroad ride when I get the road bike.

But the current bike gotta go soon, the old and rusty components are costing too much to replace. I can't get myself to love my bike any more. Its blue is fading, the gears are cranky and I'm not even a bona fide mountain biker. I ride almost exclusively on the roads these days.

If there are durable tyres I can fit on my future road bike that are good enough for the occasional few yards of gravel between pavements, I'm all for them.

==

Been thinking about it. If we eventually die, if the very neurones that store our memories are bound to go someday, why do we bother living?

The only answer I have so far is so that we can live for the moment. Screw the greater good/precious someone/world peace, I want satisfaction now.

Because I won't know if I'll be around the next day. You can reduce your chances of dying. You can delay death. But you can't avoid death. Even in this modern world, there is no way to 100% assure that we won't die tonight. I might be killed in my sleep. I might go into cardiac arrest - who knows?

It freaks me out all the time, the idea that our very lives are so transient. Death is an eventuality, and I have no idea what death would feel like.

==

I might die tomorrow. I might die next week. So I might as well just buy the road bike eh?

Being an alien in my own country

2008-11-09T20:06:00.006+08:00

I grew up in Bishan. Bishan, being a relatively new estate, is populated mainly by the younger, higher-educated people.

Perhaps it was for that reason, that people are polite here. We say hi to our neighbours, we press the lift buttons for our neighbours, and occasionally make small talk along the corridor. People are really polite in Bishan. You're more likely to hear the chirp of birds (yes, there are lots of birds in my estate) than the blaring stereo of your neighbor.

People here move to the back of the bus without prompting - it's often quite amusing how we instinctively move to the back of the bus, only to find that the empty seats are at the front (because everyone else moves to the back of the bus too).

People here speak English, occasionally Mandarin, and hardly dialects. Everyone understands what each other is speaking.

People here hardly litter - everything goes into the rubbish bins. Otherwise, they go into the recently-ubiquitous recycling points. The seats in the bus-stop are all clean and devoid of sticky, dried-up cola.

People here hardly smoke.

People on the streets walk fast. But paradoxically they are unhurried and don't brush rudely past you.

Bishan's an anomaly of Singaporean heartland living.

I grew up in Bishan. I studied in Bishan in my secondary school years. I was Bishan and Bishan was me.

==

So it was an extreme culture shock for me when I got into university and had various hospital attachments. I had to go to various places in Singapore and interact with the people who come from other parts of Singapore. Sure, I've been to these places, but I have not had to interact with and speak to the people there.

Every time I go to Yishun or Pasir Ris or Geylang or Woodlands or Jurong I feel like a tourist, soaking in all the unfamiliar sights and sounds.

I never saw so much un-obscured sky when i looked up. the buildings are way shorter than where I come from.

I never knew that it was so difficult to get to the city centre by public transport from the ends of Singapore. The roads are really narrow and convoluted, the landscape bereft of high-speed arterial roads.

I never knew that they are people who bought a car despite barely being able to afford it simply because public transport can be impractical at the edges of Singapore.

I never knew that most people communicated in Mandarin and dialects, rather than English. It makes me feel ostracised, since I don't speak much Mandarin and cannot understand the dialects. It makes me feel like they're hiding something from me.

I never got weird stares for trying to order food from the hawker stalls in English.

I never knew that littering is a problem in Singapore. Sure, people do litter, but I never imagined that there would be so many people who would gladly desecrate the clean streets at a whim.

I never knew there were so many smokers in Singapore. Smokers who do not consider it rude to smoke in public parks where health-conscious runners exercise.

I never knew that Singaporeans were this brash and abrasive when speaking to each other.

I never had people brushing rudely past me and scratching them with their bag buckles while rushing to the train station. It really hurts.

I never had to look carefully where ever I sit for the seats at bus stops, in hawker centres and in shopping malls. Every other seat has some gross-looking dirt or sticky dried cola on them.

I never saw so many shops blaring Chinese and Hokkien music rather than English language contemporary hits.

I never considered that most dads don't have the same Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones albums I occasionally blast on the living room hi-fi. What they have is Cantonese operas and Hokkien ballads that sound nothing like the music I like.

I never saw bicycles used for short distance (less than 4 bus-stop) errands so often, and so few bicycles used for long haul rides exercise rides.

I never knew loud karaoke in housing estates was so popular.

I never knew literacy in Singapore could be so bad, that so many queue up at the bus interchange ez-link teller to top their cards, simply because they don't understand how the machine works.

I never knew that as many people read the Zaobao and Wanbao as the Straits Times.

I never saw so many types of Chinese condiments and tonics being sold, and so few types of yoghurt and cheese in the supermarket.

I never saw jamu (Malay traditional medicine) stores before.

I never imagined that a sizeable proportion of the population consider their traditional Chinese medical practitioner as a primary care provider.

I never knew that there are places in Singapore where being alone at night can be dangerous.

I never knew that the Singapore I had grown up in isn't really Singapore.

2008's Beautiful Songs

2008-11-06T22:07:00.005+08:00

Use Somebody isn't even officially released as a single, but has already been considered one of Kings of Leon's best songs, having peaked at 29 on the UK charts and 12 on the Aussie charts.

Glasvegas, an up and coming Scottish band, performing Daddy's Gone. It's surreal, how they pack in so much anger and sadness in that lovely tune.

Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa, an ultra-folksy track from indie rockers Vampire Weekend hailing from New York. And here's another one by them, Oxford Comma:

==

I'll blog more about life when I figure it out.

I despise old ladies

2008-10-30T13:17:00.010+08:00

I despise old ladies. They're like the smell of shit and piss, the poor hygiene of zoo animals, the discrimination and hate of the most hardened fascists and the whininess of a spoilt brat. All crammed into one slightly less-than-human-sized entity.

Yes, I am doing a geriatrics posting in a suburban hospital. I have nothing against the posting itself - or the staff in the unit. But it's the patients that incense me.

I could handle shit and piss, I could handle zoo animals, but these shrunken beings just incite a very negative countertransference towards old ladies.

In other words, it incites a visceral hatred me, and an undying flame in me to rid the world of all of their kind.

In my first 2 hours in the geriatrics ward, I've noticed:

1) one old lady hitting her maid repeatedly with her fists when she demanded to go to the toilet
2) another old lady screaming at a nurse and insulting her for causing her (probably) minimal pain while turning her over
3) yet another old lady making snide remarks about the doctor not speaking her language "Why can't you speak Cantonese? Don't all Hakka people like you know Cantonese?"

I know I have to be tolerant - many of them are acting like little brats simply because dementia had wiped out much of their personality and cognition. Not to mention, they come from a culture where we hardly understand.

However, their values and beliefs are totally incompatible with the modern world. Take their racism for example - the old men and ladies are almost invariably racist.

"You know, the (race X) doctor who drew my blood caused me a lot of pain. I don't want her around!" And I know that that doctor is probably one of the best around when drawing blood samples.

Or sexist. "I don't care what you say, but male doctors are always better."

Or still stuck in the mentality that service staff should accede to their every whim and fancy. "Can you put that pillow here? NO. HERE. NOT THERE. YOU AREN'T LISTENING."

Or oblivious to any logical explanation that their medical procedure later requires them to be fasted. "How can you starve me like this? I will DIE! Fine. Just let me die. Give me a pill to kill me. I don't care any more."

Or having truly strange beliefs. "I'm very heaty already. Why are you still giving me sugar in my IV drip? Are you trying to make me get a fever, so that I will die faster? You young folks are evil!"

Most of the time, I don't even know what they're saying. I was brought up speaking English, and never mastered the Chinese language well.

(in Chinese)
"Erm, you know that thing at your... uh... bottom."
"Oh you mean piles?"
"Yes! Piles! So, about your piles..."

And a large proportion don't even speak either English or Chinese, but some weird dialect. They keep rattling on and on, assuming I understand, oblivious to the quizzical look on my face. Then they get angry when I don't answer their questions because I didn't understand a single word that she had said. She could be speaking in Klingon and I would be none the wiser.

Then they become well, and unleash their century-old beliefs and values on the general public. Such as cutting queues at the bus interchange because they believe their seniority accords them that privilege.

Or enthusiastically running to the bus door, shoving a couple of people in the process so that she could be the first on the bus, then slowly sauntering up the bus to her seat when she finally remembers to be arthritic.

I know I shouldn't hate them just for our differences in culture and language; and perhaps, even more so, different abilities in cognition. But I just do. Nothing personal. It's the same way I hate licorice, rock-ballads-turned-into-Muzak or puppies, just the same way these old ladies have nothing personal against me.

A Nation Cheated

2008-10-27T16:39:00.004+08:00

In return for buying his latest book, Dr Chee has asked me to build a democratic Singapore with him. I don't really know what to make out of it. It's not likely that he'll be running for the next elections, given his financial health.

Even then, how can I vote for his party if the PAP is most likely going to win a walkover for my constituency, just like in the previous few elections?

The problem with being an opposition party member in Singapore is that no one ever takes you seriously.

Think about it. A behemoth that's so deeply enmeshed with the media and economy of Singapore, versus a smattering of motivated but powerless opposition party members. Guess who will be taken more seriously?

The odds are stacked against them. The government-controlled (and this government we are talking about consists of a whopping 90% from the same party) media would be foolish to publish any ideology or suggestions from the people who might bring itself down.

And I'm not going to delve into the government's penchant to sue their rivals until they bleed. Or the way our Ministry-sanctioned History and Social Studies textbooks are written. This is after all a book review.

==

The tragedy is that these very people who the press lampoons and the government denounces are Singapore's true patriots.

A patriot wants the best for his country.

A patriot dedicates his life to improving the country.

A patriot would risk his reputation, finances and freedom for the sake of his country.

Sure, sure - many of our PAP leaders are patriots. But I dare you to prove that our opposition leaders are any less patriotic.

==

Dr Chee Soon Juan is a patriot. He examined democracy in detail and saw how it could work for Singapore.

He fought for it. And paid dearly for it, racking up jail terms and hefty debts from losing various controversial lawsuits.

But he failed.

You see, 'democracy' is a big word. I've recited that word in the national pledge for hundreds of times, but have never exactly been told what it really means. I recall my primary school teachers shying away from the question when being asked to explain what it is.

In summary, Chee was fighting for a concept no one understood.

The PAP, however, used more familiar vocabulary such as 'economy', 'jobs', 'peace' and 'security'.

The thing about politics is, ideology doesn't rake in the votes. Popularity does, and PAP had played that game well. They used vocabulary people understood and sold itself as a safe and comfortable option.

Most importantly, when they talk about vegetable prices and upgrading HDB blocks, they managed to get to the hearts of the everyday voters.

Chee Soon Juan however spoke of issues that the common Singaporean had not even heard of - things like 'transparency', 'freedom of speech' and 'oppression'. The common man didn't understand, and had written him off as an eccentric clown.

So as long as the common man has affordable groceries, a comfortable home and a job, he will be content. He doesn't need the right to free speech (even if he did have it, what did he have to say?), he doesn't need the government to be transparent (the complexities of government and the economy boggles him anyway) and oppression doesn't happen to himself.

What the common man doesn't know is that those very same issues that he ignores are the ones that dictate the health of society and economy as a whole.

Take the California Energy Crisis for example. Something as abstract as a partial deregulation of the energy market led to the common man having to experience blackouts.

That's where A Nation Cheated shines.

Its second part of the book explains how the government's strict policies towards controlling labour unions might not have been a good idea after all, that the way Singapore's economy is heading right now might be great for short-term growth, but detrimental to society and its income disparity in the long term, and how.

==

A Nation Cheated starts off with Part I - an account of how Lee Kuan Yew and the PAP had gotten into power, from his viewpoint.

It's probably biased - hell, who isn't? - but it casts doubt on the PAP's (probably biased, too) version of events.

Personally, I didn't really care much for this part. History is history. We can learn from it, or draw conclusions from it, but we can't change it anyway.

Part II addresses Singapore's labour and economic policies, looking at how they might have been successful in the short term, but we're finally seeing some of their shortcomings in the form of a widening income gap, a lack of entrepreunership and the poorly-hidden fact that many of the government's foreign investments have failed.

While Chee clearly outlines the problems, the possible solutions he offers aren't convincing, considering that he had managed to squeeze all of that into a mere 5.5 page-long chapter titled 'The alternative'.

"What can be done to improve Singapore?" is the question that he had answered in that chapter. However, what we really want to know is, "What are our opposition leaders going to do to improve Singapore?". The book, and possibly Chee's strategy, fails in this aspect.

==

A Nation Cheated ends off with a speech, and an appendix of questions and answers.

It's an informative read, provided you understand that books by political leaders - opposition or otherwise - are inherently biased.

A pity it doesn't tell us what they can do to improve Singapore.

Or for that matter, what I can do to build a democratic Singapore with Chee.

==

A Nation Cheated is available online at SDP's website (email them) or from Kinokuniya or Select Books in Tanglin.

A New Me

2008-10-26T15:07:00.006+08:00

The days of aviation ended the moment I landed the Boeing 737 on the taxiway, rather than the runway of Bangkok's old Don Muang airport.

It was only a while after I had switched off the autopilot on final approach and was about to line up with the runway, when I realised that I was no longer able to roll the plane right.

(Stock photo showing outer Bangkok from an Airbus A320)

My bloody Logitech Dual Action gamepad's analog stick had died. Again.

So with differential thrust and aggressive rudder inputs, I tried to line it up with the runway again. Yay. Resourceful KC. You rock.

But alas, it was too late, so I headed for the taxiway instead. And got the plane to a stop without veering onto the grass.

Unfortunately, it isn't cheap to replace a gamepad, and I have no immediate need for one, so I'm laying off flight sims for now.

==

And in other news, I've finally decided, yesterday on a sunny Saturday, to overhaul my life.

I could write paragraphs upon paragraphs here, about how I 'm not doing enough with my life, how I'm not meeting enough people and how I've left my physical form to ruin.

But they all mean the same thing - that I've been sitting on my fat lazy ass for too long.

==

Granted, I was fatter and lazier in the past, but this is the Real Live Action Adult World and the expectations are different.

It's not OK to while away my time any more. Sure, it's a comfortable, peaceful situation to be in, but it's not going to get any of my needs fulfilled.

Especially love. It's corny. But everything is love. Love brings us to do things we normally won't. Love brings us to break our boundaries.

Yes. I could do with love. But love has somehow evaded me for a really long time.

And I'm going to change that.

==

I'm gonna become fitter and leaner.

I'm gonna work hard in school and get the results.

I'm gonna do new things.

Things WILL change.

==

And from yesterday onwards, I decided to start taking academics seriously, eating right, and exercising enthusiastically.

I tried swimming again after a 5 year hiatus, and I seemed to have made good progress with just one session. Still far from being decent. But it's quite impressive to me. And I'm aching all over while I type this.

I still need to lose a few kgs from my 71kg frame and gain some muscle to look better and more love-able.

Went for a slack bicycle ride with Aiks and Yee. Glad it did not rain despite the positively weird-looking clouds.

As for eating right, it ain't going to well but I'll figure that out.

Academics. Ah, the test on Saturday morning is going to be a reminder to me of how much better I would score if only I knew my facts well.

I, after all, still do want to become a doctor.

A good one.

All for love. Love for myself. Love for others.

And most importantly, for others to love me.

If there should be any universal unifying theory of this world, it would be love.

Avolition and aviation

2008-10-18T22:04:00.003+08:00

It's pretty hard to get myself motivated to do anything these days. Inertia and mass - I have loads of it.

Been spending some of my time piloting virtual A321s and 747s around the world, getting them from tarmac to tarmac (hopefully), then realising that piloting a plane involves an intimate understanding of physics and mechanics.

It's not just about pointing the nose at the runway. It's about going in the right direction at the right altitude, with the correct speed and vertical speed.

Too fast, you crash. Too much vertical speed, you crash. Miss the runway, you crash.

It ain't easy, so don't go around wondering why they get paid so much.

Gosh. I really should go out and exercise more. I'm on my butt for too long.

The morning of 9 October was a foggy one

2008-10-13T23:47:00.004+08:00

The cool, damp muggy air. The blurry buildings in the background. The amorphous cloud that shrouds the end of the road from your view. The shiny condensation on the pavements. The cylinders of light projecting from car headlights. Goodness knows how much it made me miss my Melbourne holiday.

From the paroxysms of thick fog that the aircraft taxied into and out of in Melbourne International. To the humidity in the air condensing onto the cold wings of the 747.

To the balmy morning.

To the nice people there.

To the scenery.

To the food.

I miss that place.

==

Fog forms when the dew point approaches the ambient temperature in the presence of particulate matter in the air.

The moisture in the humid air condenses onto the particulate matter, essentially forming a very low-lying, homogeneous cloud.

This was the weather for that same foggy day in Singapore. Note how the temperature and dew point met in the morning, coupled with the lack of wind:

Meteorology's fun!

The Beef

2008-10-05T20:00:00.003+08:00

Being the metrosexual sensitive new age guy I am, I watched a cooking show and got inspired to do my own steak.

Essentially, what the show said was: use a frying pan at high heat to brown the surface of the steak, and then bake it in an oven, covering it with bacon to keep the meat moist.

I went to NTUC and bought some frozen ribeye to try it out. Planning to use real fresh beef should this be a success. Judging by the truth in what the government had said in the past few years, I wouldn't bet on frozen meat being as good as the fresh stuff.

Marinated it with nothing but a sprinkle of salt and lots of freshly ground black pepper. On retrospect, I should have used some sugar, so as to cause the Maillard reaction.

Then I did exactly what the show mentioned - brown the surfaces of the steaks to a crisp, cover with bacon slides, then bake it using the grill function of my microwave.

The problem with frozen beef is that it leaks alot of water while it cooks, gotta use that water for making gravy instead. Added chopped portobello, onions and red vinegar sauce and simmered the gravy until it was thick.

==

End result? Not bad at all. pretty impressive for frozen beef. Just slightly pink in the centre, i.e. a nice toasty medium-done.

Yay! It was moist and flavourful. The sauce was better than expected too.

Serve it with healthy food, to temper the unhealthiness of bacon and beef.

Saturday Qualifiers

2008-09-27T21:20:00.002+08:00

As I pen this, Lewis Hamilton is making his last preparations to the qualifiers tonight. Reviewing the advice given to him by the tech guys who had analysed the way he had handled the practice sessions.

It takes a huge amount of absolute cool to take the wheel calmly and throw the car around the turns at high speed. That's something that would normally come only with maturity.

And yet, he is only weeks older than me. And I have barely passed my driving test a few months ago.

Racing in a Formula 1 race? Add that to the growing list of things I'd never be able to do in my lifetime.

When we were little kids, we could be anything we wanted to be. There's no stopping to what we could choose. Want to be an F1 driver? Not likely. But possible. Even Hamilton was once a 7 year old with no automotive racing experience, no?

But no one ever starts racing at 23 years old and nets a F1 pole finish before he's too old to race. Never.

It's unnerving having our choices being whittled away by the passing of time. A top Olympic sprinter, I'd never be one no matter how i train. A rockstar - that's probably out too.

And in a few decades I'd be laughing at myself silly for whining about that while reminiscing how I used to be able to walk and be continent.

Of blood, shit and piss

2008-09-21T16:26:00.002+08:00

There are very few professions on Earth where one can say that their work is bloody, shitty or pissy - and mean it literally.

My past week was spent at another internship, and again, it's 4 weeks of long hours and hard work. Argh.

On Friday, I stayed the night in hospital, shuttling between various wards doing various random errands, handling various patients who had bloody shit, bloody pee, bloody puke, obstructed shit, obstructed pee, uncontrollable shit, uncontrollable pee and various iterations of those few words (a few days back there was even a case of shitty pee but let's not go into there).

I think I know what specialities to avoid now. Namely, the shitty ones and the pissy ones. You know, I'd gladly have longer hours and a higher workload, than to endure shit and piss.

It's another 3 more weeks. Weeks seldom feel this long. And weekends this short.

More Drivel

2008-09-14T23:04:00.003+08:00

I'd spare you the usual shit about schoolwork.

Hung out with a bunch of online buddies. Ikoi in Miramar Hotel. Ala carte buffet for $38.85 after service charge and the Government's cut of your hard-earned money. Pretty good stuff, except that their soba noodles are starchy and tasteless, and that the sushi rice isn't vinegared properly. Sashimi is fresh, tempura is excellent.

Mom's birthday's celebration was a couple days back, and we ate at Sakura restaurant. Another Japanese buffet, though of a much lesser price, and corresponding standard. It's just... price-appropriate fodder. Nothing to shout about.

And the cake, from Pine Garden's Cake, Ang Mo Kio Avenue 10. Durian moose, with real durian mixed in. They make especially light and fluffy cakes.

Reminds you of a certain architectural embarrassment in southern Singapore eh?

Delicious food is not good. Especially when one is just days into embarking into a fat loss/fitness journey.

I'm going to lose all that lard. Eating sensibly and not gorging on food whenever and wherever.

Including interval training in cycling and running to break out of the rut that I was in.

Pushing myself to exhaustion at least twice in a week.

I hope it works!

Sunday Night

2008-09-07T22:23:00.002+08:00

There's always something scary about Sunday nights.

Like the trail of blood that the horror movie protagonist follows, and like the economists' renewed enthusiasm in doomsaying, it heralds something worse.

Mondays.

My self esteem and motivation are rapidly getting whittled away in school. I'm in a group where everyone works unreasonably hard. At the expense of each other's happiness. No one talks about anything but work. Every now and then, the psychopath of the group will make some snide comment about me being academically inferior to her in front of the tutors. Just to make herself feel better.

I miss my old group, where there's an unwritten, unsaid mantra shared between us. Leave no men behind. We didn't do too well academically, but hey, we were happy.

And this comes at a time when I realise that not everyone is cut out for a life of achievement. I know I'm not one of them; I'd much rather sit back and enjoy a movie than to slog for fame and fortune. I don't even know what I'm getting myself into these days, but it certainly isn't a lifestyle I can imagine myself living in the long term.

Every day I slog in med school I feel like I'm missing out on the cognitive training that the rest of my peers in other fields experience - learning about various contrasting fields, honing in on their writing - both analytical and creative, and seeing the world from different, non-egocentric perspectives.

It's sad when much of my cognitive training in my university days comes from the Internet discussions and social conversations I participate in.

Oh well, at least I'll come out stronger and better from it. Or at least, I hope. Just as long as I can clearly define my needs and wants.

Needs: Get through life, and whatever it throws at me. Get through school, don't fuck up the career too badly.

Wants: Do pleasurable things. Go somewhere I'd be able to fit in better. Live comfortably and simply.

The needs aren't easy to achieve. Self motivation is bloody hard.

Wall-E

2008-09-03T23:02:00.002+08:00

I'm sure all of you have already heard of Wall-e, Pixar's latest CGI animation effort.

While the graphics keep getting more and more impressive with every film, the storytelling itself is largely a hit-and-miss affair.

Pixar didn't do too well this time round. There might be creative environments, poignant cultural references littered all over and a coherent theme, but there simply wasn't any lovable character to emphatise with.

Wall-e, after all, is a machine with limited speech and ability to convey affect. In other words, it's a robot.

Overall, there's still alot of entertainment value it this film. But it doesn't match up with the high standards that Pixar had set for itself in the past decade. Oh well, let's wait for the next one.

Nike Human Race

2008-08-31T21:21:00.005+08:00

I did it! My timing is definitely not brag-worthy, and it's not even good. But...

I did it!

A month and a half ago, I got an advertorial for this in my NUS mailbox. Come to think of it, it wasn't the first time I had seen the Nike Human Race advert. I vaguely recall seeing a poster for that on a bridge pillar in Melbourne when I was holidaying there. Didn't think much of it.

I had picked up running for some time, to supplement my regular bicycling (cross-training is important!). It's high time I put that running training to good use.

I shot off some messages to my friends and realised that there are quite many of them who are interested. Yay.

And for $25 (before GST) I'd get a bottle and a T-shirt so it was a pretty nice deal.

==

And then the gravity of the situation dawned upon me. I have never run 10km at a go before. There's a real chance I'd have those 3 cruel letters - DNF - next to my name when I view the results.

I wanted to beat this thing, and I was going to do it.

==

I ran, either once or twice a week, making sure I do a long distance run of 8-10km every 10 or so days. Decked out with GPS phone and sports tracking software, I dutifully done those runs.

The timings were dismal. I had to walk much of the way.

It just wasn't fair. There are so many people out there who hardly train and can run way faster and longer than I do. My chances at being a good runner is getting quite dismal.

It is often said that one's VO2max, the objective laboratory measurement of the maximal sustained aerobic output, cannot be improved significantly even with training. But one's tolerance to lactic acid build-up can. VO2max is pretty much a function of genetics and the luck of the draw. But it's pretty depressing eh? Knowing that no matter how hard I train, there's this nagging barrier preventing me from ever achieving great things.

And then I realised that it's all about me and what I can do to improve myself. Who cares if the others can run well?

All I want to do is better myself. And when I do, that's something to be proud of. I kept on bulldozing through, slowly but steadily improving my running.

A week before race day, I've improved, but like what statisticians would love to say, it might be statistically significant, but it's still small.

How does the School Team Challenge work?
When you register for the race, you may select to represent your school in the School Team Challenge on top of your individual race category (Men's & Women's Under 25 or Men’s & Women’s Open) The school in each category that has the most number of registered runners completing the Nike+ Human Race 10K under 90 minutes will win the School Team Challenge.

If I take longer than 1h 30min, my timing won't add to NUS's total tally. And a week before race day, I still have trouble hitting that. Granted, my training route is hilly, but it's depressing to know that I was so close to a fail.

==

Race day.

Like any medical student would do, I trawled Google and Pubmed for the best way to enhance my performance (i.e. legal cheating).

I loaded up on carbohydrate-rich foods.

I ate baking powder.

I drank a horrible concoction of instant coffee and sugar.

No, I wasn't suicidal. I was desperate enough to make sure that I was going to run it all below 1h 30min.

==

The clock started. Being a charity/fun run, I was pretty surprised at the sheer number of serious runners, all togged out in expensive running shoes and apparel. Oh no.

Maintaining the pace was painful.

And when I reached the halfway mark, I just knew that I wasn't going to make it if I followed that pace. All that carbohydrates, caffeine and bicarbonate only helped in the first few kilometres. Then I bonked hard. After that I was all on my own, so to speak.

I slowed down.

Being cross-trained in bicycling, my exhaustion wasn't the breathless kind, but the kind where I just felt too tired to move fast. If I were to take running more seriously, I'd really have to trade in my bicycling hours for running. And no way, I am never going to do that. I love bicycling. I don't love running.

I ran when I could, I brisk-walked when I couldn't. (I brisk-walk pretty fast, faster than the speed some of the girls run. Heh.)

I can't really say I tried my best, but I did try.

I crossed the line just a hair above ~~1h 15min~~ 1h 14min. Not impressive to many, but pretty darned good for that one person named KC who had just stepped over those ChampionChip timing mats.

Victory is sweet.

Run

2008-08-28T22:14:00.003+08:00

Was planning to write out a really long entry about the Olympics, the human body and the cruel sin of envy, but you'll prolly not want to read it anyway.

There is beauty in brevity.

So unless you're a rotund starfish living under a rock on the ocean bed, you'd have watched the Olympics, then subsequently gawked at how fit and toned all those bodies look. If you're not a professional athlete already, you most probably have a body that is way less desirable than them.

And then comes the painful, cruel pangs of envy. You wonder, perhaps if you have that diver's body, you could strut the streets confidently in fitting clothing and get any boy/girl you desire?

I really do want to have Usain Bolt's speed, combined with Michael Phelp's ability to cut through any body of water effortlessly, in addition to the grace and agility of all the gymnasts and divers we'd been seeing on TV and in the newspapers.

It's sort of depressing that many of the Olympians are younger than me. Getting an Olympic medal - that's one thing that is now absolutely impossible in my life.

==

But that won't stop me.

I refuse to become one of many pale-faced flabby men who look like they've not seen the sun for months. Men who have not had physical activity to forge them into shape.

I'm running.

Kitty frowns at you

2008-08-21T22:35:00.003+08:00

It's disturbing how every morning, the trains of Singapore turn into a warzone, with people pushing and shoving just to be the first on the train. And at school and work, people vigorously battling it out just for a mere sliver of opportunity.

Sure. Life is hard. But will fighting harder for the same pool of resources make it any more plentiful? Will it make us happier people? No.

Where did the civility and politeness that we had all learnt as kids go to? Have we forgotten how to share and compromise?

Think about it.
When was the last time anyone bothered to stop and smell the roses? Does anyone ever notice how beautiful the clouds look? Or the saccharine sweetness of a kitten's purr?

Stop being so caught up in work and the city bustle. Stop using work as an excuse to ignore the world around us.

Start living.

Earth

2008-08-17T22:51:00.003+08:00

Somewhere in the recesses of Ang Mo Kio Avenue 10 lies a stall that is rumoured to sell kickass claypot rice. Here's Uncle Seng Mini Claypot.

Me and my family decided to find it was true.

Alas, it wasn't. Plain, tasteless food isn't our kind of thing.

==

It sometimes amazes me how labile my mood is these days. If I'm amazed, imagine what kind of stark raving mad monster I'd appear to be to the people around me. Urgh. Clairvoyance sucks.

I gotta admit, I often tend to stay away from people with such labile moods, for fear of being getting snapped at or being unintentionally hurt. (In an emotional way I mean. Me, and the people who are like me, do not go around randomly shoving your noses into your craniums.)

==

Another week of underperforming at school. Another week of exhaustion. Another week of lack of exercise. Another week of horrible eating.

I had better buck up.

To The Public Transport Workers Of Singapore

2008-08-08T21:06:00.009+08:00

When I was 6, my ambition wasn't to be a doctor, or an author, or a journalist, or any of those jobs often mentioned in those newspaper pullout advertisements for scholarships.

I wanted to be a bus driver.

Hazy as my memory may be, I still vividly remember the day in kindergarten when the teacher told us to mime out our ambition.

I went up to the front of class, my side facing the class (like how you would normally view the bus driver from the bus cabin) and just drove. Steering that imaginary wheel of mine, handling the pedals and pressing those 3 nifty buttons at the side that controlled the 2 doors.

My classmates volunteered answers.

'Driver!'

No.

'Taxi driver?'

No.

'MRT driver?'

No.

'Bus driver!'

And there it was. I didn't want to be any driver. I wanted to be a bus driver. Even to the 6 year-old me, there was a world of difference between driving, and driving a bus.

At the age of 6, I already took great pains to know everything I could about buses. I knew that those old buses I took every day was a Nissan UD, that some buses had more steps than others, mainly because of where the engine was sited.

And when they started rolling out the Mercedes O405 buses on SBS, I was overjoyed. They looked absolutely classy and posh, with carpeted air-conditioning ducts, plush seats, and a modern-looking exterior. And a majestic engine roar that sounded absolutely different from the whine of the Nissan UDs and the characterless white noise of the Volvo B10M Mk2s that I was used to.

I knew I had to drive one.

And when I grew up and realised that bus drivers were paid only slightly more than a factory worker, and alot less than a doctor, journalist or engineer, I quickly abandoned all hope.

==

I never lost interest in buses though - on some days, I sit right up front on the top deck of the double deckers, hearing the unmistakable hum of the ZF gearbox on those Volvo Olympians, thinking about the long heritage of those buses.

Back in the 70s, double-deckered Leyland Atlanteans plied the road. These were the first rear-engined in its series, which then evolved into the Leyland Olympian.

And when Volvo bought the design over, they made several minor changes and called it the Volvo Olympian. A few more updates, and it's the Volvo Super Olympian.

Finally, a couple of years back, it was superseded by the Volvo B9TL, with electronically-controlled engine systems, transmission and brakes much like how aircraft systems are designed.

==

I never got to drive that Mercedes O405.

But I got to drove a Mercedes diesel anyway - that's the army jeep I learnt to drive on.

And I got to work for SBS's parent company, Comfort Delgro, albeit for a week. In its HQ compound which happens to double as a bus depot.

I suppose I can't ask for too much eh? But then, Mediacorp compere/actress Kym Ng did get to drive a true blue Volvo Olympian for a drama serial. I'm still jealous.

==

And it's only when I learned how to drive, did I realise that it's no easy task driving public transport vehicles.

Public transport can either make or break a city. It's very much a part of life for many of us, and when shit happens, it can really ruin our day. That's why bus drivers, train station masters and their companies get all the flak from the public, from complains about punctuality to crowded carriages and decks.

Even if it's not their fault. Many people simply do not understand that often, crowded buses and unreliable schedules are simply a product of peak hour traffic jams. Or the inevitable vehicle breakdown. Or staffing problems. But when shit happens, people love to have someone to blame. And the poor transport workers face the brunt of it.

The public transport workers have to contend with the busy and chaotic roads of Singapore as their workplace while a large proportion of commuters have the luxury of peppering their comfortable workplace with ornaments.

Neither do they have to worry about putting themselves and dozens of customers at mortal peril when they fall asleep at work.

Neither do they have to stay glued to the seat for an hour at a time, without a minute of rest or even a toilet break.

Neither do they have to contend with 20-minute lunch breaks.

About half of public transport workers are already at work even before most of our alarm clocks ring. The other half knock off way past your bedtime.

And the worst part is, they aren't getting fair remuneration for the sacrifices they make. The basic pay for a new bus driver is $1,200. An average bus driver with a fair amount of seniority earns $2,300 a month in gross monthly wage, including allowances and shift pay.

Whenever you board a bus, you're entrusting your life to someone who's being paid this little to drive you to your destination safely.

For the kind of hours and stress they endure, it's really a pittance. They really should be paid more, and if it has to come from the pockets of the commuters, I'd be glad to understand that they deserve every extra cent that I have to pay for my safe bus or train ride.

Public transport workers in Singapore, I salute you this National Day. You deserve it more than anyone else does. Not even those men in white who are paid more than a hundred times what you earn.

Feet

2008-08-02T15:35:00.006+08:00

So the month-long internship has come to the end, and I've learnt a few things:

1. Life can be heaven or hell, depending on who you can work under.

2. Be very careful with self-righteous, sexist people. Be very very careful.

3. There's the perennial habit of shooting the messenger in medical communications. Messengers gotta avoid taking it to heart, or insanity soon ensues.

4. Seek inspiration and meaning from daily experiences whenever you can, just to stay sane. Having to take blood samples from someone with The Cure playing in the background can be a very transcendental experience.

==

New shoes. Got a $50 Running Lab voucher after trading in my pair of Adidas ($60 new) that didn't fit me well, then blew it all on a top-of-the-line Sauconys that are plushly cushioned and therefore, suitable for my high-arched feet.

I might sound silly for saying this, but I'll say it anyway:

Feet are important. You'll miss them when they no longer work properly.

So please, please, take good care of your feet.

Running Lab is quite cool, they have this treadmill where the shop guys watch how you run, then recommend you shoes based on that. And then, you'd be able to try out the new shoes, run in them and make sure they're OK before you buy them.

I'm officially retiring my 2006 Nike Pegasus from running training after several hundred km on them, since the cushioning's all compacted and all.

==

Just watching the world go by can be fun. Noticing the hard lines on the air-conditioning grilles in the train, looking at sleepy-eyed commuters staring at their shoes, counting down the days to the weekend, while fashion-conscious youth calibrate their pose just so that they look elegant-yet-casual at the same time.

The bright-eyed foreign trainees of SIAEC taking sprightly strides to work, probably eager to send joyous letters and comfortable amounts of dough back where they came from. And in the background, behind the Expo, you see those very aircraft they work on soaring into the sunrise.

The occasional sad kid, the world's weight too heavy for his small shoulders, slumped in his seat and staring at his iPod.

And back to looking at my own shoes again. They could really do with a polish.

==

It's the time of the year again where they burn paper and joss sticks that fuck up the atmosphere we breathe, and leave food to feed the stray animals leading to a public health risk.

And the particulate matter swirling around in the air makes my throat irritated. And goodness knows what diseases the animals who feed on the food offerings will eventually spread?

They're fucking with my right to my good health.

Which is more inalienable than the right to practice one's beliefs.

Using religion to justify your 'right' to hurt me is terrorism, so fuck you.

Unhinged

2008-07-28T14:50:00.001+08:00

I've known that my coping resources aren't good, but when things go wrong they really DO go horribly wrong, and there was no way I could have seen it coming.

Experience has made me cold and cynical. I'd speak volumes on it, but I'd get sued considering how the medical industry will spare no effort silencing me in their protectionist fervour.

Let's just say, if I were to manage hospitals, I'd do things differently. Very differently.

And needless to say, this student internship thing is really taking its toll on me. Realising that junior doctors don't get to do proper doctoring, learning about the magnitude of bureaucracy, watching the relentless progress of disease and death, experiencing first hand the risks of working in hospitals, having your genuine efforts demolished by superiors and generally getting unhinged by one disappointment after another. It takes a really strong psyche to be pummeled by all these at the same time.

Problem is, that hypothetical strong psyche is something I don't have. It's doing horrible things to my mood and all I can do is wait out this last week of this nightmare. That's a luxury that I won't get when I start work proper. Perhaps it's the remuneration that keeps workers all around the world moderately sane, despite the frustration and stupidity of their jobs?

5 more days. Please, please let me stay sane despite it all. I've been taking my frustration on family, friends and various users of the road traffic system. And worst of all, my motivation at self preservation is slowly ebbing away. Sigh.

Broken

2008-07-20T23:13:00.003+08:00

Part of my morning ride. After 2 failed tries to use Nokia Sports Tracker on my N78, it got a perfect run without losing its GPS signal halfway.

Had a minor row with an idiot and her 2 kids playing badminton in the middle of the cycle path.

Says that she knows when to move out of the way when cyclists pass. I kindly pointed out that she didn't manage to do so when I approached.

Says there's hardly any cyclists using it anyway. I kindly pointed out that I was a cyclist. Are they ignorant or plain stupid?

It's Monday in a while, and I haven't dreaded Mondays in a long while. Back to insane hours and crazy workload.

The weekend's over. And I didn't do anything fruitful with my time. I stayed at home throughout the weekend, hearing the F16s fly over, seeing the neighbours heading out in the best clothes, while I just sat in my room keeping to myself like all good Otaku should.

Chatted with a friend, he's having a ball of a time in American indie music epicentre Chicago. Lollapalooza tickets there are cheaper than SingFest, and they get way better acts. Not to mention, many, many more acts.

Me, I seek cheap Youtube thrills. Alone.

I'm weak.

Toads

2008-07-13T23:37:00.003+08:00

Hours and hours spent on crowded public transport is getting on my nerves. It's Monday again. Seriously, the prospect of work, and the lack of any decent chunks of time to actually live life is scaring the fuck outta me. Turning up early before sunrise, holding the fort, holding the fort, holding the fort, until almost sunset.

New saddle, and not much time for me to ride on it. Despite this crazy week I squeezed in a 10km run and a 20+km ride so I guess that's not too bad. It's the furthest I can go without aggravating my inflamed hamstrings too badly. Ouch.

Weekend spent milling around with family and relatives to some place in Toa Payoh for lunch. Nothing social to do, nothing fun to do. Tried to watch the Evangelion: You Are Not Alone, but it turned out to be a disjointed 90 minute trailer for the series itself (which I had totally liked). They totally killed the character development the anime series managed so well to create.

My hair is getting unruly. Let's see how long it gets before I'm forced to get it cut. Heh.

School

2008-07-08T22:08:00.002+08:00

If you're a regular blog trawler who goes around reading your friends' blogs, vicariously living their lives and secretly gloating at how you have a better social life than them, you'd probably already notice that school plays an extremely huge role in filling up the virtual lined foolscap of the cyberspace.

If you're one of those few who are too nice to engage in such voyeuristic as clicking through the archives just to find a photo of the cute girl in class, or secretly snoop on the friends your mate hangs out with, you lied.

Blogs. It's all about trying to put an engaging spin to the most mundane of our daily lives. So, would you make a few concessions on the truth just to sound more successful and social than you really are? Yes. I absolutely would.

Some are better than others at doing that. The not so good ones, talk about school, sharing anecdotes on their boring scholarly escapades that honestly sound like Greek to anyone outside of that particular social circle.

But sometimes, school is all-consuming. And there's really nothing else to talk about, when the bulk of daylight is wasted on illuminating textbooks rather than giving you a nice, olive tan. So, there's really nothing else to talk about.

Such is the situation for me for the past 2 days, doing hospital attachments at a higher level - now I'm busy doing procedures, and that means sucking blood, placing electrical leads, interrogating and shoving various tubes up whatever orifice the human body has to offer.

It's gross, it's bloody and it's messy. That's human bodies for you. Especially sick human bodies. But that's the way things are. Trust me, you wouldn't want to know exactly what I had been doing for the past 2 days. I'm still trying to adapt to the workflow in Far Eastern Hospital after spending so many months doing postings in Southwestern Giant Hospital.

In other words, this is one horribly weak filler post on my poor malnourished blog.

I should write for Top Gear

2008-07-05T20:24:00.006+08:00

Was chatting with Richie on whether he should get:

The black Nokia E71.

Or the white Nokia E71.

This is how I would describe the white E71:

Imagine a glowing yellow Lamborghini Gallardo. Designed with elegance in mind. Imagine its flowing lines, the aesthetically sculpted air intakes.

Now imagine the furry powder blue steering wheel cover.

The Nokia E71 is designed with elegance and style in mind - thin, sleek, professional. It comes in a black version, bringing a classy, iPhone feel to it. And it comes with a white version with obvious design cues from my Electrolux washing machine.

Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against white. White is cleanliness. White is simplicity. The designers of the iPod and the Victorian architects had used that to their advantage.

But white is also the colour of a 5 year-old's undies. And cluttering the design of anything white with its numerous keys and trims is like smearing the said 5 year-old's undies with skid-marks.

Don't buy the white E71, unless you cherish those fond memories of parenthood and its aroma of skid-mark removing Clorox.

==

Richie, Kieran and I threw about some ideas for a gadget Top Gear:

- Clock the Segway on the Nurburgring

- Benchmark the Panasonic Toughbook using typical Top-Gearesque torture tests involving explosives, crashes and spectacular mountain/sea/etc scenes.

- 'Will it survive a drop?' - every week, a gadget will be dropped from a height of 1 storey and tested to see if it still works. Gadgets on the list: iPod, mobile phones, notebook computers, CRT monitors, Blendtec blender, vacuum tube amplifiers, microwave ovens

- Wacky product comparisons - Which mobile phone will work best if you're stuck in a freezer and need to phone for help? (Since the freezer is metal it would put the signal reception of the phone to test, in addition to its cold weather capabilities.)

- And the pièce de résistance - Celebrity iGallop

Now all we need is funding! Interested investors, please click the comments link below and post your quotations.

On Patriotism

2008-07-03T18:34:00.003+08:00

To those who love your country: How much of that love can you justify with logic?

For those of you who have grown up in Singapore in the 80s and 90s, you'd be familiar with the constant media bombardment of calls to love Singapore. National Day Parade on TV, newspaper features every now and then extolling the various things Singaporeans supposedly enjoy.

My first memory of patriotism was when I had to draw the Singaporean flag in kindergarten at age 5. And naturally, that was a graded assignment. For quite a while, I associated patriotism with the act of expressing how much you love the country. Colour within the lines on the national flag, and you're patriotic. Bonus patriotism if you get an A for it. The louder you sing the national anthem, the more patriotic you are.

When I was 12, I stopped singing the national anthem when they raised the flag every morning in school. Figured that it won't contribute one iota to the progress of Singapore or to the happiness of its people. C'mon it's just one silly song we're obliged to repeat ad nauseum! Surely there are more important patriotic things to do, such as keeping Singapore's coasts clean and donating to the poor? Or simply keeping the school canteen clean and therefore letting the Singaporeans in the school enjoy a cleaner environment.

When I was 13, I realised you'd be labelled a total prat if you're a fan of a band just because advertisements and radio chart shows tell you to do so. And why shouldn't one be labelled a prat if he loves Singapore without being able to justify it? Why should 'I love Singapore because I grew up with it and it brings back fond memories' sound any less batty than 'I love my rusty Sanyo microwave oven because I grew up with it and it brings back fond memories'?

When I was 15, I read the foreign news via the Internet and realised that the Singapore they speak of and the Singapore our local press speaks of are really quite different countries.

When I was 16, I mellowed out. And realised that Singapore's clean tap water, low poverty rates, manageable crime rates and decent healthcare are actually quite alright.

When I was 18, I had to pay penace for being a Singaporean. National Service.

When I was 20, I realised that if I were a British citizen, I'd be getting a better and cheaper education there, instead of what I'm getting in Singapore.

When I was 21, I did hospital attachments in school and realised that the sheltered bubble I've grown up in is totally different from the real, working-class Singapore. The phrase '8-5' is really a lie here. Property prices were skyrocketing and incomes static. I realised that a blue collar worker's paycheque doesn't even cover half the cost of renting a decent apartment for 2 people.

When I was 22, I visited Thailand and realised their sanitation, poverty, crime and healthcare aren't as bad as what our media makes it out to be. I visited Hong Kong and realised that even in densely populated places, public transport doesn't have to be slow, crowded and painful the way it is in Singapore. All it takes is proper town planning and funding.

When I was 23, I visited Melbourne and realised that I prefer the weather and the culture there.

And in my whole 2 decades and a third of life in Singapore, no one ever told me what patriotism should mean to me.

Open Sauce

2008-06-29T14:55:00.001+08:00

kc says:
actually on both computers ff3 crashes a little more than ie
kc says:
lol
kc says:
oh well
kc says:
i should continue my blind faith for open sauce....er source
kc says:
hey
kc says:
lets design some sauces
kc says:
start a webpage
kc says:
and market them as open source sauces
kc says:
complete with recipe

cong says:
yeah we should..
cong says:
then some people will complain that we're not standard compliant
cong says:
since we're using proprietary products like erm.. soya sauce

kc says:
heh
kc says:
we'll use non trademarked soya sauce!

cong says:
hmmmm that's still not open source.. and that meant region specific compiles/cooking will result in incompatible tastes
cong says:
we're to incorporate widely available commercial sauces
cong says:
and thus be labelled a sellout by those who grow their own soy beans

kc says:
lol
kc says:
in that case
kc says:
we'll just use different ingredients
kc says:
they cant bitch about sugar and msg right?

cong says:
msg is like redhat.. there's a commercial supported edition and there's the open source formula.. ie. monosodium glutamate
cong says:
i guess thats on the right side of the grey area

kc says:
lol
kc says:
yeah
kc says:
so if we break down the ingredients to molecular level we'll be truly open sauce

Into the wind

2008-06-27T23:22:00.005+08:00

The fighter jets are at it again. It's the time of the year again. They're flying really low and really fast over my estate in aerobatic formation, in practice for the National Day Parade.

First, you hear that eerie low whine reminiscent of air strikes in those World War II war movies. Then it gets louder and higher (Doppler effect, remember?) until it reaches a crescendo, and at that very split second, you see the F16s in formation zooming past. Then the decrescendo and the lowering in pitch again.

Still makes me wonder, is it worth the risk of crashing into a built-up city (unlikely though) and the cost of all that fuel that pours through those jet engines? Not to mention, the wear and tear on the engines and the airframes.

I guess they'd just have to do it, simply because most of the other countries with significant air forces have their own aerobatic teams. Peer pressure at an international level, eh?

And on the ground, with thousands of metres of air in between, there's me, manoeuvring my bicycle through crowded cycle path traffic, pretending I'm one of those pilots in Red Bull Air Race, dodging the joggers (what the effing hell are doing on the cycle path?) and slowpokes on creaky bikes with deft and quick (but yet, small and controlled) steering adjustments on the handlebars. Just like a fighter jet pilot with his control yoke, cleverly controlling all the many flight controls as though they are extensions of his own body.

I reach a clear straight, and put all my energy into the pedals, watching the numbers on my speedometer surge in multiples of 2. Maybe - just maybe - any faster, and I might possibly get airborne with a swift pull on my handlebars.

And it's 2 oncoming joggers side-by-side, oblivious to the speed at which I'm barrelling towards them, deaf to the frantic bell-ringing. I grip the brakes with all my fingers, right thumb thumbing down the gears to get ready for another quick launch.

The 2 oblivious joggers move aside, obviously either too apathetic/ignorant/stupid to realise that they're risking their lives on a cycle path. My legs spin up and the wind screams in my ears yet again, while I slice through the bend with just enough braking to get me by safely.

Then I coast to the end of the path. It's a pretty skillful trick to slow down with just your own air resistance. You gotta be familiar with the path, and be adept at knowing when to stop pedalling - depending on the wind conditions. It's a tailwind today - I stop pedalling a little earlier than usual. If you're going too fast, and you stand up high against the wind to increase drag. Too slow, and you crouch low and spin the pedals a couple of times. Just like an aircraft and how the pilot handles the spoilers and throttles to craft his perfect landing.

And I make it to the end of the path at just a little more than walking speed. Feather the brakes lightly, and I'm done. Brake pads last really, really long in my hands.

It's just another typical ride through the park for me.

I <3 beer

2008-06-25T21:46:00.003+08:00

When I drink alcohol, people will ask.

"Oh so you went partying?"
"Nah I was at home."
"What's the occasion?"
"No occasion. I just wanted a beer."
"Drowning your sorrows eh?"
"Urm, no?"

Am I the only one who puts the same kind of connotations to a can of beer as I would to a can of Coca Cola/Pepsi (depending on which way you lean)? Like, beer is cold. Beer is refreshing. Beer tastes good. Beer makes me happy.

Rather than beer being a drug you use to avoid reality, as akin to marijuana and cocaine? Beer is intoxicating. Beer is addictive. Beer is harmful for you. Beer makes you a sad alcoholic.

What's up with all the bad rep that alcoholic beverages had gathered in the last century?

In 1997, the World Health Organisation concluded that the reduced risk from coronary heart disease was found at the level of one drink consumed every second day. -BBC

Drink in moderation. It's good for you. And never, never drink and drive.

Melbourne Musings

2008-06-20T20:30:00.004+08:00

I like Melbourne, and the rest of the Victoria that I've been to.

In Melbourne:
1. You could walk through crowded streets and not get your shoulders brusied violently by people who just brush across rudely. And oh, they all walk on the left of the pavement!

2. People are friendly and warm. And when the chef asks you how the food was, they really, honestly do want to know. And they'll make conversation if they have the time.

3. The food! The food! The standard of restaurants there is mindbogglingly good. If Singapore calls itself the food capital of South East Asia, then Melbourne is more than worthy to call itself the food capital of Australia. Cheap, fresh produce galore. Milk. Oranges. Yoghurt (the yoghurt there is so awesome I ate it everyday). Beef. Cheese. Honey. All of which, I love to bits. For all that, I'd happily contend with expensive papayas and pineapples and watermelons and bad chicken rice.

4. Bicycling culture! Drivers overtake bicyclists safely. Bike lanes and proper cycling routes are literally everywhere. And cyclists are safe and well-behaved, unlike in Singapore where headlights are a rarity and most cyclists making a fool of themselves riding on the pavements, riding against traffic, ignoring traffic rules, etc. It's true. Victoria has half the number of cyclist deaths per million people as compared to Singapore.

5. At least 3 decent contemporary English language music radio channels. And they play music that's way closer to my taste than Singaporean radio. Especially Triple M. When was the last time you heard Foo Fighters and Ben Folds in addition to Coldplay interviews in Singapore?

6. It's easier to communicate with others, when there's only English to worry about. I admit it. My pathetic Mandarin and inexistent knowledge of other dialects, Malay and Tamil makes it difficult for me to understand the older people in my own country.

7. When you're in Melbourne you continually get the feeling that the government cares for its people. Scaffoldings at construction sites are securely constructed (prolly strict laws on that), public parks are artistically done and immaculately maintained, road signs actually tell you WHY you shouldn't be doing 70 in this 40 zone (sharp right bend ahead). And such signage could have had saved these 2 guys in Singapore. Rules are only meaningful to one if one understands why they are there.

8. Excellent labour laws. People get paid proper minimum wages so that they can actually afford basic accomodation. (In Singapore, we're seeing a trend where a humble room rental can cost more than the salary of many blue-collar workers.) And they can strike or make use of other industrial action as a proper negotiation tool. Sure, it might disrupt public services for a while, but surely you don't want a situation where workers are disgruntled and angry and unmotivated, with no way to negotiate for better work conditions. What if YOU are the Mcdonalds worker who's only paid $3.50/h? With Big Macs costing more than the hourly pay, surely they could - and should - pay the workers more fairly. But without any recourse for the workers, there's no incentive for the Goliath to treat the Davids decently.

9. Coffee drinking culture!

10. The usuals - free media (being able to read something other than 'oh everything is rosy in where we live, but strife is happening in other countries' every morning is something I appreciate), more reasonable work hours, a more relaxed pace of life.

Sure, it's not all pros. I know the ~~property prices can be scary there~~ (edited: I googled property prices in Melbourne, and all I got were Singaporean news articles stating it's worse over here). Public transportation isn't as well-connected. Eating out isn't cheap. Less Singaporean food. The locals there won't be as cordial to you just because of race. (Can't blame really, I'm prolly way more racist than them.) Jobs aren't easy to find.

Oh well, but really, it's about the soft warm factors like a lifestyle suited to your personality, rather than the hard cold factors like money eh? When a human's basic requirements such as food, rest and lodging are met, it's all about the soft warm factors to make one happy.

It seems Australia suits me more than Singapore. And not just me, but many people I know. And the government still wonders why so many Singaporeans are flocking abroad?

Melbourne Day 5: Finale

2008-06-18T14:17:00.006+08:00

Last day, last minute shopping.

Walked to Queen Victoria market to get some last minute spoils - nougats mainly. And a throwing boomerang and some small trinkets.

So it's Aussie chocs, nougats, cheese, wine and clothing that will be filling up our baggage.

Had time to spare so went to a cafe in Hardware Lane to chill. Coffee and pastries in cafes cost quite alot less in Melbourne than in Singapore. And with way better taste too.

Off to the Melbourne Tullamarine Airport.

The check-in queue was a bitch. Changing shifts, and many counters were closed.

Customs was a bitch. Was randomly selected for a pat-down and proper metal detector scan.

Waiting for the pilots (they were en route on another flight) for an hour after boarding the plane was a bitch.

VH-OJG

If it's any consolation, being on the above plane would cost $150 more and with not as stellar flight timings.

Food was a bitch. The wine wasn't too bad - it happened to be the exact one I bought and drank in Australia at Morington Peninsula's T'Gallant winery.

Beautiful sunset. Could see the orangey glow reflecting over the Australian desert and the lakes.

The pasta wasn't as bad. But. Still a fail.

To its credit Qantas's flight attendants weren't as grouchy as what most people say, and the beverage sleection is excellent. But there's ALOT that can be improved on the check-in, scheduling and food aspects. But if it costs $150 to do all that to meet up with Singapore Airline's standards, no thanks, I'd choose the old Qantas. Heh.

Touched down in windy and humid Singapore weather, with one side's landing gear hitting the ground a few seconds before the other.

Customs were efficient. But the locals here are rude, slow and unpleasant. Chaos at the duty-free store as queues were cut. Rude counter staff.

Then, a downpour. Classic of Singapore. Somehow for all my past few trips I leave Singapore in horrid weather, have perfect weather overseas and when I return, I get unceremoniously rained on again.

A taxi ride where the driver hardly spoke English (Malaysian?) and I had to struggle with Mandarin. And he couldn't keep to the lanes.

A traffic jam at 10.30pm. Wen it rains and when there's lane closures, traffic stalls to a halt, even if it's freaking 10.30pm.

Welcome to Singapore.

Melbourne Day 4: Steam

2008-06-15T22:59:00.008+08:00

Off to the Dandenong Ranges!

Puffing Billy Railway, a narrow gauge railway built in the 1900s originally intended to facilitate transportation in the wooded ranges. It's now mainly run by enthusiastic volunteers, something that would never happen in Singapore.

There wasn't much of a view along the way...

Next we headed to Cuckoo restaurant which is a buffet with a mindboggling variety of food and especially cakes.

Not to mention, live performances.

They have alot of cuckoo clocks, big and small over there.

Back to the city for some shopping, went to Myers (Queen's Birthday clearance sale) and got some CK jeans on offer, and JayJays for cute slogan tees. And to Safeway for wine, cheese and chocolates to buy back home.

It's a public holiday and every shop closes extra early. Including fast food outlets, which meant that looking for dinner proved to be a challenge.

There's this Chinese eatery that sells claypot rice and hotplate noodles, and the standard, like for most of food in Melbourne, was good.

Melbourne Day 3: Running Up That Hill

2008-06-14T22:13:00.010+08:00

Early morning, and we headed to Queenscliff to board the vehicular ferry to Sorrento.

Weather ain't too good. And it's cold and windy on the upper deck.

40 minutes later, we pressed on by coach to Ashcombe Maze and gardens, a small homely park with a rose maze, lavender maze and 2 hedge mazes.

Wine tasting at T'Gallant winery. The Juliet Pinot Grigio white wine and the Moscato are quite good, so we bought a bottle each. The red wines weren't very appealing...

Visited a glassblower's studio, then a pit stop at Hastings.

Off to Warrook Cattle Farm.

Lunch (which was pretty average - meat was way overcooked) there, with free-flow cheap wine.

We took a tour around the compound on a small trailer truck.

Had a go at milking the cow, and it's sorta gross. Tasted the milk freshly squeezed from the nipple, which tasted extremely creamy and weird. Think about it - milk comes from cow boobies. Sounds disgusting!

Sheep shearing. A rather violent act that takes both strength and skill, as there are various maneovres to immobilize the sheep in different positions in order to shear them.

A wombat. They sometimes bite.

After that, it was off to Philip Island to watch the little penguins (yes - they're called little penguins) return to shore. They're the smallest species of penguins in the world and every night, they return to shore to mate or to feed their offspring. They do so in groups of about 6-10, waddling across the beach when they see that the coast is clear. Then they make their way inland to their nests. Sadly, no photography allowed.

We saw quite a number of penguins, including some nested in the grassland right in front of the boardwalk, less than a metre away from me. It's really cold and windy there, so if you head there, remember your warm clothing!

Night fell, and we headed for a boring Chinese dinner. Then the hotel room, by which it was about 9.30 pm.

Melbourne Day 2: Great Ocean Road

2008-06-13T21:18:00.009+08:00

Early early morning, barely refreshed by the 10h slumber in the hotel. Mercure Welcome hotel, if you wonder. It's pretty cramped, but the location's smack in the city centre so it's alright.

Boarded the coach again, and saw this eye-catching shop display.

Then, it's off to the Great Ocean Road on the Volvo B12B coach (12 litre engine!), which was both powerful and quiet.

Curvy, hilly roads, and at some parts the road is 100m above sea level and right next to you is a cliff dropping off all the way to the sea. Scary.

The weather wasn't exactly holding up.

Raining right where we had just passed.

A quick stop at Apollo Bay, a really quaint and lively small town. The drizzle stopped and it was getting warm enough for me not to wear a jacket. Hey, I'm quite resilient to the cold!

It was a Saturday and both tourists and locals were milling everywhere. Families taking their dogs for a walk, flea markets, the town's bustling with activity despite its small size.

Tasty ice-cream made freshly in the store.

Went through the Great Otway National Park.

The 12 Apostles.

I see a rainbow!

There's a helicopter ride there but it costs AUD$80. Not worth it, so I gave it a miss.

Seagulls at Port Campbell.

Port Campbell is a tourist trap where everything's prohibitively expensive.

The London Arch, formerly known as London Bridge back when the middle arch still stood.

It got late, and we were on the coach all the way until nightfall making our way through the freeways to Geelong, a small city, for our buffet dinner.

Melbourne Day 1: Wintry Walks

2008-06-12T15:19:00.008+08:00

As far as winters go, Melbourne has mild ones where temperatures hardly dip below 5 degrees Celsius in the night. However, compared to the weather I'm used to in Singapore, it's very chilly.

Loaded up the bus in the wee hours of the morning.

Was really early, so the group just milled around aimlessly.

The architecture in Melbourne is a mix of old Victorian buildings (Hur hur. Melbourne is in the state of Victoria. If you want to die of corniness then you ought to know my friend Victor is currently studying in that very state.)

The Shrine of Remembrance.

Yarra river.

Electric train.

Fitzroy Gardens, which is really tastefully done up. Not to mention, the falling leaves of early winter makes it particularly colourful.

St Paul's Cathedral.

Flinders Street Station.

Federation Square. It's sorta ugly. Was cold. Hungry. So went to the 7-11 for a sandwich.

Queen Victoria Market, which is essentially, a Melbourne wet market plus pasar malam. Very fresh fruit and vegetables. And it's where you get all your nougats, pastries and all sorts of Australian produce and confections. Not to mention souveniors.

Afternoon arrives, and the weather's now comfortably cool, not cold like it was in the morning.

The morning tour ended, so we went by ourselves to look for lunch and explore the city centre.

Digressing a little, but one thing you notice about Melbourne is that cycling is a very popular mode of transport. No, not the slowpoke cyclists you see in Singapore, but serious cyclists that go fast along the traffic without dangerously weaving through traffic and on and off pavements. You see helmets on every cyclist and bright headlights on every bicycle.

Drivers respect cyclists and give them a wide berth for overtaking. The government respects cyclists by demarcating bicycle lanes (proper ones - not the retarded ones that are placed to the left of left-turning lanes) and creating a proper bicycle path that flanks the side of Yarra river.

It's cycling heaven, almost.

This restaurant in Little Bourke Street, Knife Fork Bottle & Cork is run by a French chef who cooks really well. The beer battered fish and chips is simply the best I've ever tasted of all fish and chips big and small. Crispy fish that remains juicy and flaky inside. A sauce to die for. And superb fries.

Servings are large too.

Chef's a friendly guy who chats with customers. Including me and my family. Cool guy.

Grilled chicken.

Duck risotto.

The food there is simply magical. If you head to Melbourne, you had better not miss this!

Just ambled around the city doing some shopping, before returning to the hotel to meet with the group for a Chinese dinner. Wasn't too impressed with the dinner, but the food ain't too shabby.

Melbournians certainly do keep their food standards very high.

==

There's not much to do - but alot to see - in Melbourne. So I'd just let the pictures do the talking.