Armour Upgrade

This is the latest iteration of my armour. I've dropped the coif, and added a gorget and spaulders to the mix. In addition, I'm now wearing knee cops (not shown in this picture), and will be adding elbow cops, a breastplate and possibly a helm, and my kit will be complete.

I've originally aimed for a Milanese style kit, but my kit is starting to look more Early Gothic Transitional, which is just as well.









The rest of the demo team has obtained upgrades too. Here my knee cops are visible.





Tome and I are still primary sparring partners, even in demos. Tome prefers staying at a distance while I prefer going up close and punching/grappling. It's still a toss up whose style will eventually dominate. Here, the ending is scripted - it casts no aspersions on Tome's ability as a fighter, the pesky dance-around-er. :)



The boys with some well-deserved R&R after the demo.

Quote of the Day II

Scene: Greg briefs us for our latest demo. Most of us are clad in chainmail, some with bits of plate reinforcing vital points. One of my sword buddies, Uncle Chio, in particular has only recently started wearing chainmail regularly despite being a senior student.

Greg: Okay, Tome and KC will be doing 2nd and 3rd drill, Page and Josh will be doing 4th and 5th drill. The rest of you will stand around and look pretty. I know it's hard, but try.

-cue cheering, the loudest from Chio-

Greg: Oh wait, Uncle Chio will be reserve for 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th drill.

Me: -turning to Chio- Well, I guess it's true then. Chainmail doesn't stop arrows.

Malaysian Judicial Corruption

I stumbled across this in the course of my work.




For the benefit of those of you who do not know who Ahmad Fairuz is, he is the Chief Justice of Malaysia. This tape allegedly reveals a top Malaysian lawyer, VK Lingham, brokering judicial appointments in the Malaysian Judiciary.

What makes this potentially more inflammatory is that the person who released this video is none other than Anwar Ibrahim, former Deputy Primer Minister and member of Justice Party (Kelidan). Here, he writes an heated critique of the Malaysian judiciary on the Wall Street Journal.

Former Lord President of the Federal Malaysian Courts (as the Chief Justice was then known) and the 9th Yang-di Pertuan Agong Sultan Azlan Muhibbuddin Shah has given a scathing critique of the Malaysian judiciary during the 14th Malaysian Bar Conference - an event poorly attended by Malaysian judges.

On September 26, 2007, 2000 Malaysian lawyers marched to the Prime Minister's Office in Putrajaya. Labelled the "Walk for Justice", their demands were clear - remove Ahmad Fairuz as Chief Justice.



Today, the New Straits Times has reported that Chief Justice Ahmad Fairuz' term has lapsed, and it is unclear at to whether his term has been renewed by the Yang di Pertuan Agong.

*******

The reason I write about this is threefold.

The first is to give recognition to the forces of globalisation - what happens to our nearest neighbour will undoubtably affect us. I have am dealing with a number of pending cases in Malaysia myself and news like this shakes my confidence that these matters will be handled fairly.

The second is a follow-on from the 377A fallout. While I am deeply disappointed with the failed attempt to repeal 377A, I am at least glad that there is some indication of listening in the Singapore government - much more so than the lack of response regarding the alleged corruption of the Chief Justice of Malaysia. In retrospect I suspect things could be a lot lot worse in Singapore, and for that, I am grateful.

The third is a cautionary tale concerning mixing religion with politics and justice. The former Chief Justice Abdul Fairuz is one of the judges rejecting Lina Joy's appeal to convert from Islam to Christianity. I note with a sense of irony the obvious parallels between this and 377A. To me, sauce for the gander is also sauce for the goose. What of the right to use a condom? How far away are we truly from echoing Lina Joy ruling?

*****

As a final word - I'd prefer for this post not to be seen as a post in support of the failed 377A repeal, but of a timeline for a series of events that is happening very close to our shores. I intend for this post to raise more questions than answers, to discomfort more than to soothe. I see this as the only way we will learn to ask difficult questions about ourselves and state of affairs.

Jetsetting

Jakarta last thursday, KL on Monday and Tuesday, Bangalore probably next week. Have fun guys.

Shameless Emotional Manipulation II

Roy's brother: Wanna play blocks with me?

Roy: More than anything.

Retrospective is a trick of perspective. I've made mistakes. Some of them still haunt me today, taking me by surprise in unexpected moments. Caught in these recollections, I cannot help but to look at my past with the perspective of who I am today; stronger, wiser, more mature.

Knowing this helps little. I view the past wondering what I should have done, could have done, but not realising that those events are the very ones that made me stronger, wiser and more mature.

I believe in the afterlife. Having made the mistakes I have, I am unsure whether I will have an afterlife like Roy's despite having tried very hard. Nevertheless I get my choice of afterlife, the one I want is Roy's.

An afterlife where all will be forgiven.

Discovery

What happens when you discover that all the trials you have faced are just lessons to prepare you for the ones ahead? That all the pain and suffering you went through was for a reason, where you have one more chance ahead to turn all your failure and heartache into something magical, something wonderful - if you can face down the trials ahead.

Do you take the road of safety? Or once more head down the path of peril?

I know my answer already.

No regrets.

Motto of the Day

"People forget how crucial it is to keep trying, even if they screw up now and then. They figure that if they can't manage it perfectly every second then they should pick some other alignment because it'll be easier. But it's the struggle that matters."

Moral lessons from a comic book with stick figures. Wow.

Out Of The Closet

There's a wonderful joy at coming out of the closet, to be relieved of the burdens of having to keep your deep dark secrets. The gay colours, shiny sequins, sidelong glances, and feather boas.

I'm, of course, talking about ABBA. Yes, I'm a closet ABBA fan.

Tome sent this to me. This is incredible shit - Frida from ABBA and The Real Group, a Swedish acapella group, performing "Dancing Queen".

Systema and Personal Growth

We had a guest trainer yesterday, James, who taught us the basics of Systema.



Systema is a Russian martial art, often advertised as the martial art used by the Spetsnaz. I personally think that the association with special forces is highly misleading. Contrary to expectations, it's probably closer to chinese internal styles than the hard styles I'd expect from being a special forces martial art.

The interesting thing about Systema is not the art (though the art is fascinating in itself) but the pedagology behind it - it literally trains you to learn about yourself and what works for you.

One of the central tenets to Systema is the concept of space. Everyone literally has a "bubble" of comfort around them. Learning where this "bubble" starts determines the style that is best for you. Some people might be more comfortable infighting - the comfort level dictates therefore that grapples and locks would be your primary arsenal. Some people might have a comfort zone far out from their bodies - their fighting style would involve a lot more strikes.

*****************

By sheer serendipity, my boss was talking about the book "Now: Discover your strengths" and the philosophy of working to people's strengths, instead of working to compensate for weaknesses. Part of this exercise involves finding out what your "space" is too - then developing around this.

*****************

One of my personal objectives for learning martial arts is as a form of integrated learning. My sentiment is that my own personal growth has often been obstructed by my lack of understanding physical systems - and what better physical system to study other than your own body.

I'm somewhat pleasantly surprised to find out how much I'm actually managing to integrate the lessons of martial arts into real life and vice versa. Martial arts is turning out to be a much more involved learning experience than I thought.

More thoughts on this in a while. I promise.

Motto of the Day

"Your incompetence does not dictate my sense of urgency."

Ahrrrr Maties!

It be International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Avast ye landlubbers!

Shameless Emotional Manipulation

The last thing I'd expect from a computer game.

Elite Beat Agents is the Nintendo DS Lite version of Dance Dance Revolution. They give you a song, and make you tap the beat out in a stylus. The storyline (if you can call it one) is that you're an agent that uses the music to inspire people in need. For most part, the scenarios they give in Elite Beat Agents is kinda kooky - there's a particularly hilarious one where the scenario is an obvious parody of Paris and Nicole stranded on a deserted island.

There is one in particular that stands out, and here it is.



I is a beeg sucker for sob stories. I was practically swearing by the end of the intro to complete this scenario no matter what.

I finished it in 15 minutes of course, so I thought I'd share it with you guys. The video is obviously not me, but something I found on youtube.

There Comes A Time....

.....when you realise that good intentions are merely a candy shell for cruel action. That, despite hard-won lessons, humans would rather make the same mistake over and over instead of learning from them. That we are trapped in our own worlds, and ne'er the twain shalt meet.

....when you realise that you are the only one who realises that there are many worlds, but only one true world. That others would rather be honest to you than honest to themselves. That what they say is entirely truthful, but dishonest because they are incapable of being honest with themselves.

I am constantly amazed by the capacity by which people are capable of deceiving themselves, and am utterly helpless in the face of such deceit.

What do you do then? Deny or accept? Be sad in your honesty or happy in a lie?

I only wish I knew.

Witnessed in Bangkok

I just saw a pre-op transgendered gentlemen carrying a Prada handbag (!) freak the hell out of two Japanese businessmen simply by being in close proximity to them.

I love Bangkok. :)

Off to Bangkok

Back on Friday late night, then off to another swordfighting seminar. Take care.

Facebook Ettiquette

I've discovered that...

• Blinkymummy is a friend's cousin, and I know another cousin from my debating days.
  
• I may have gone to school with Tym's brother, but I'm not sure.
• Shyue Chou knows one of my AC Drama juniors.
• Shianux knows another of my AC Drama juniors.
• A lawyer I've used in a recent case is a 2nd degree contact, friend of an old JC buddy.
  
• Willie and a JC friend were neighbours in England.
  

This brings about an interesting question. What do I do for 2nd degree contacts that I know but not that well? In at least one case, I only know that person in her professional capacity but am close friends with our friend-in-common. In another case, I know the 2nd degree contact, but it's been years since we've spoken.

Decisions, decisions.

Sticks and Bones

I took a solid whack across the ribs on Sunday sparring against Andy with the singlestick. It left a welt across my ribs that's rapidly forming into a stick-shaped bruise.

Sunday was a set of fairly casual training. I think Chris figured that a lot of us were starting to burn out and set us on singlestick training instead. For the uninitiated, singlestick is essentially a stick shaped like a rapier. I think it's the transition point between actual duelling and modern sport fencing but I could be wrong.

After some basic footwork and working on some basic "protects", Chris set the senior class off to do some sparring on their own. There were only three takers, Tome, Andy and myself.

Andy and I squared off first. By that time, I was still in a "play-play" mood, thinking we'd get a few rounds of warm up practise before going at it in earnest. I took a solid shot to the ribs to pay for it. I patiently squared off against Andy for a couple more rounds before realising that he was swinging with force, and quite wildly at that. Standing almost a foot taller than I am, Andy was clearly bouting to win through his physical dominance.

I was getting increasingly irate at Andy's swings, which left welts on both my hands and my body - many of them in an exchange of hits. Increasingly, as the bout went on, I started scoring more and more hits against Andy without getting touched myself. I did this by advancing slowly and determinedly against him. I'm sure he must have sensed whatever emotion I was radiating at that point because his attacks to my advance became more panicked.

I still lost the bout, but I closed the margin toward the end.

I am surprised. I had always treated combat, even mock combat, as something to be feared and respected. I don't like battle or combat. Part of the reason I'm learning swordfighting is to get me over my fear of combat. This time was different. I got the distinct impression that Andy was bullying, albeit subconsciously, and I just refused to stand for it.

Maybe there's a fighter in me somewhere after all.

Caesars' Demo, National Library, 8th September

This Saturday, PHEMAS did a demo for replica weaponry distributors, Caesars at the National Library HQ.

Here are some of the photos.




Crusader Teddy



Our growing Compagnia Della Spada



Tome and I in 3rd Drill



My sword makes contact with Tome's, deflecting it.



Greg demonstrating the right way to get through armour

We are grateful to Caesars for the opportunity to demonstrate our craft.

Contemplation

I am thankful for this week of rest, giving me many opportunities for quiet contemplation.

********************

I've been thinking about my newfound insights into Fiore. Tome and Ken have their own insights about the seminar - I will not repeat them here, but I agree with them. I will add that I am thinking more about their perspectives as well as my own.

Fiore (the swordmaster whose work we are studying) talks about "Sentimento de Ferro" or the "Feeling of Steel". When a sword contacts another sword, there is a feeling, a pressure acting against the sword you wield. Often, this feeling guides you on what to do next. An attempted bind on a sword, for example, feels very different from an attempted beat, and the counters are different. True, your sight and knowledge of attack lines will guide you, but too often, we neglect to hear the voice of our own sword telling us what needs to be done.

At the risk of sounding sentimental, I will add one extra dimension to it - true, the sword has a voice telling us what to do, but as swordsmen, we must also learn to listen. Too often, I have scripted plans of attack and defense in my head based on what I -think- the opponent is going to do. VERY often, these scripts fail and leave me in a world of pain. Only when I stop scripting, and start feeling, do I get a sense of what needs to be done, and do it.

In short, I am learning to listen, and not voice.

********************

How human a failing is that - to superimpose our own voices over the voice that already tells us what we need to know.

Quite by accident, I stumbled across the Wikipedia entry to "Man of La Mancha". This is essentially a musical adaptation of Cervantes' "Don Quixote", a washed-out fifty year old who has read one too many novels on chivalry and believes himself a great knight. I believe the opening act is familiar to all - Don Quixote charges at a windmill, believing it a four-armed giant and promptly collides into it.

The power of the Don Quixote myth, however, is exactly his delusion. Failing to defeat the four-armed giant, he goes on quest after quest to ensure that he is not defeated again. In the course of the story, he is confronted by a doctor who attempts to cure him and succeed - by showing him in a mirror exactly how the world sees him, a washed-out old man. The climax is where a barmaid, wooed by Don Quixote and treated as a lady, begs Don Quixote to return to his delusions, because she cannot stand being a barmaid.

Too often, we make the achievement of a dream the paramount concern. We build scripts and plans over these dreams. Too often, we think that by our hand we will achieve these dreams.

Too often we charge at windmills thinking they are four-armed giants. Too often, after we collide, we see ourselves as we truly are - washed-out fifty year old men, and then crawl off somewhere to die with dignity.

What happens to that voice then?

Cervantes already has the answer - Don Quixote awakens at the climax back to his delusions and remembers his barmaid, who he has always mistakenly called Dulcinea, fights off men he thinks are threatening her, and dies of the fever he has developed. The barmaid henceforth refuses to be addressed by any other name.

The importance of the Don Quixote legend that he's always listened to the voice in his heart, and in doing so, paves the way for others to hear the voices in their hearts.

********************

Like "Sentimento de Ferro", it takes a lifetime to learn to hear the voice. More accurately, it takes a lifetime to unlearn the hearing of other people's voices, and do what you've always known to be right.

Like Don Quixote, the important fact is not achieving the dream, but having the dream, and when that dream fails, having another one.

To every man his Dulcinea.

How to Hurt People 101

I'm in so much pain, my aches have aches.

The reason for this can be summed up into two words: Ilkka Hartikainen. That's the name of the Finnish instructor that I've been training under for the past week. He's from our sister school, SESH, up in Finland.

At 24, Ilkka probably knows more about swordplay, body mechanics and unarmed combat than any 10 average blokes off the street. Watching him in action, I can understand why knights and men-at-arms were such terrors on the battlefield.

I deeply appreciate Ilkka's attempt to teach us even the basics of his lifetime passion. In a week, I probably forgot more than I learnt in 6 months of regular training. This is casting no aspersions to Greg and Chris, who are wonderful instructors. It's just the sheer volume of what we had to go through that made the experience...unique.

Being able to see the entire system in action and not just bits and pieces that I picked up has helped me immensely, even if I don't grasp the full importance of it all. For one, I can stop thinking about the system in terms of individual tricks and start thinking of it as a system. That is worth more than any move or set of moves I can learn from this week.

By the end of spending 22 hours last week training with Ilkka, I was seriously ready to collapse. I don't think I've ever felt this tired since BMT. At least in BMT, I don't have to worry about being conscious for work the next day.

There was an evaluation and grading at the end of it. It was our regular grading, except it wasn't. I was so tired I was practically going on auto-pilot. The results of it weren't horrible, but I know that if I were actually focused, I'd have done some of the things much better. I still passed and I think I deserved that pass more than any other evaluations I did, even if I did a worse job.

And as promised, here's the keen picture of me in my coif, as well as 7 other keen looking guys. The Compagnia grows!

Heroes World Tour 2007 Singapore Pictures

This post should be called "A Overgrown Heroes Fanboi".

The last leg of the Heroes World Tour in Asia was Singapore. I discovered this as I was walking through VivoCity, a stone's throw away from where I work.

This was an opportunity too good to miss. I took a half day leave, and I wasn't disappointed.

The event started with the two MC's trying to lather up the crowd. I think they were Star World VJ's or something. I certainly didn't recognise them.


Whashisname and Whashername - MC's for the event



More Pictures of Whashisname and Whashername

The first event of the day was a contest to imitate the infamous Hiro Nakamura scene where he teleports to New York. Of the four contestants, one didn't even know the scene and one claimed to have a sore throat. I was flabberghasted. Needless to say, the crowd wasn't too pleased.


Hapless contestants - Contest to shout "Yatta!"

This was followed by a random question and answer session. Standing on the 2nd floor I was unable to show off my |337 fanboi trivia skills. The questions weren't too hard though.

After a long while of waiting, some of the enthusiasm died down. The VJ's dilligently tried to generate interest but it was clear that the crowd was flagging.

Then, not a moment too soon, the Heroes cast walked in with security in tow.


First Glimpse of Ali Larter

The crowd went absolutely bananas. I think they must have cheered a good 5 minutes before the MC's could get a word in edgewise.



Ali Larter waving and Greg Grumberg hamming it up

This first thing I recall thinking as Ali Larter strode up was "Damn she's hot!". The second thing I recall thinking was "She looks taller in the show." Ali Larter spoke with a distinct Valley Girl accent.

Greg Grumberg was a suprise. He completely hammed it up for the crowd, was incredibly charming and energetic, and even spoke a few words in Singlish!



Sendhill Ramamurthy and Masi Oka addressing the crowd

The big suprise for me was how well the cast seemed to be taking their newfound (in some cases, refound) fame - Masi Oka especially. He seemed almost shy from all the attention. Sendhill Ramamurthy was nervous, I think. I couldn't hear a single word he was saying.



Greg Grumberg and Masi Oka rapping - Damn cool!

I've heard for a while that Masi Oka does beat-boxing - or the art of providing a beat acapella to a rap. Greg and Masi did a small rap of appreciation for Singapore.

I was a little disappointed though. The MC's promised some news about the 2nd season, but the much-hyped 2nd season rumours, however, weren't anything more that "It's gonna be awesome".

No biggie. Kudos to the Heroes cast for being such sports!

Bonus: Placards seen at Heroes World Tour 2007

"Marry me Mohinder!"
"Yatta! (Corresponding hiragana on reverse)"
"I heart Sexy Geneticists!"
"Whip me Jessica!"
"Read my mind, Parkman!"
"Sylar stole my power or I'd be famous too!" (my personal fave)

Weekend

What a weekend!

The weekend started with me rushing down to CCK for open session. I was particularly looking forward to training that day because of one of the seniors from Finland, Ilkka, was taking training that day.

Unfortunately for me, I had consumed an excess of cheese in the afternoon. Yes, I was stupid. My lack of tolerance for cheese is pretty well-documented, but I did not notice the slather of cheese cunningly concealed between two medium rare beef patties. Worse, it was blue cheese (who the heck uses blue cheese in a burger?!). End result: I spent most of the night retching away.

After training, and -ahem- purging whatever I could, we went for drinks. Ilkka, Greg, Aaron and I spent till wee hours of the morning chatting about stuff. I told Ilkka and Greg about my fear of fighting and getting hit. To my surprise, Greg understood exactly where I was coming from. I feel a lot better at having 'fessed up to it (more about this aspect in future, I promise). Ilkka suggests a way where I can get over my psychological fear of getting hit that he will try next weekend. I can't wait.

*******

Saturday was my birfday. There was cake, food, friends, food, a Shogun game and more food. Finally got to hang out with Ed, Miche and Erik. It was cool.

*******

Sunday saw me heading down to Greg's to pick him and Ilkka up for classes. Sounds like I missed a wonderful time on Saturday, since I was having my own wonderful time. At class, I got a chance to work on some of the things Ilkka was talking about. It worked better than expected. I think Greg was suprised at one point that I could actually deliver a hit from so far off.

Ilkka's abrazare training was really cool too. I'm constantly amazed by how little strength actually matters in wrestling. Every time Ilkka demonstrated a move, I felt like there was absolutely nothing I could have done. He practically flowed from one position to the next. It was awesome and inspiring.

It was fantastic. I'm aching and bruised all over and I can't wait to go for more aches and bruises tonight.

A Mental Barometer

My competence in swordplay is inversely proportionate to how troubled my mind is.

Yesterday marks one of the best sessions I've had in a long, long while. I scored a couple of decent hits on Greg and while my swordplay was still sloppy and far from competent, I am beginning to stop anticipating how things would go and try to react to certain attacks, defenses and the such. A small but significant improvement from previous sessions of getting whacked senseless.

I will make no bones about it. I know that my recent decisions have hurt someone I care very much about. I also know it's the right decision. The strain I've been labouring under for a long time is gone. It shows. I am sad, angry, depressed and my heart is aching, but my mind is clear and filled with purpose again.

Tome says I'm becoming predictable. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am just developing my own style. Feints are not my style. Positioning beyond what is necessary to get a decent strike in is beyond me at this point. My sword and wrist work is credible but not fantastic. My greatest strength is currently close-in, in-your-face combat, where I can bring my (relative) power and stability to bear.

I know I have a long way to go to address my weaknesses, but for the first time in a long while, I feel like I know where I am going.

This Day, A Year Ago

I was on the Berkeley waterfront pier. The Golden Gate bridge stretched out in front of me, except I could not see it. The infamous Bay Area summer fog obscured it. Beside me there were men fishing. Kids were scampering around, their families in tow.

The pier is almost half a mile long. That day it felt longer. I walked to the end of the pier and paced around, waiting.

There was nothing left in my apartment. No TV. No furniture. Just a bunch of boxes and two large suitcases. Like my first day there, only in reverse. I couldn't bear sitting around in my apartment. It felt like death row. So I took my rental out and ended up at Berkeley Waterfront, my very first relaxation spot and easily my favourite.

I remember crying. I couldn't stop the tears. Some passers-by glanced at me, but I turned away. Every innocent glance looked accusatory to me. I couldn't face them. Not yet.

The fishermen caught a small shark. As they reeled it up, curious children gawked at it. A few of the braver ones approached. After a friendly warning by the fishermen about shark skin, a particularly courageous child poked a finger into the side of the shark. I smiled for a brief moment.

A few moments later, red light washed across the horizon. I looked up, and the moment I had been waiting for passed all too quickly. The sun set over a mountain up north.

I walked back to my rental and headed back to my apartment. I had a plane to catch the next day.

Why Asian Girls Go For White Guys

WTF?

Bloody #@$@%!!! Is my face THAT feminine?

Spoken at Lunch

Me: I'll have the fish and chips.

Waitress: Okay, what would you like to drink?

Me: I'll just have the water.

Waitress: Oh, I'm sorry, we don't serve water here. How about mineral water?

Me: -slightly annoyed- Okay, I'll have an ice tea then.

*****minutes later*****

Waitress: Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of fish for the fish and chips. Would you like to order something else?

Me: -incredibly annoyed- Oh really. Must be the lack of water here.

Word of the Day II

Wanker

1. (UK, Australian English, New Zealand English, slang, pejorative) An idiot, a stupid, annoying or ineffectual person.
2. (UK, Australian English, New Zealand English, slang, pejorative) Someone who shows off too much. Someone who is overly proud of himself.

Don't ask what brought this about.

An Open Letter to California Bar Exam Takers 2007

Dear Bar Exam Taker,

You probably don't know who I am. You probably don't care. You probably stumbled upon this blog through a Google search, hoping that someone, anyone would be as miserable, nervous or irritable as you are feeling now.

I cannot offer that comfort. I took the bar exam last year. I understand the feeling though. I know that feeling well. For months, irritability and sadness were my constant companions. I, too, searched blogs to see if someone, anyone was as miserable as I was. I, too, clung on to Richard Sakai's words of comfort, his stories of people in such terrible positions that they could not possibly pass, but they did.

Today, I offer my own story for comfort.

Like many of you, the California Bar Exam represented hope for the future. I came to California hoping to find a job, and a life away from the stifling atmosphere of Singapore. The year before had been hard. I did well for my postgraduate course, but after a year of closed doors and rejection letters, I was nowhere closer to finding a job. So, yes, the Bar Exam I hoped would change things.

A month before the bar exam, the laptop I was going to use for the bar exam crashed. I was unable to recover anything from it. What's worse, I had been training, until that point, to take my exam on the computer. I lost a day too, trying to get the computer to work, but to no avail. I honestly thought I was going to go mad that day. I remembered resisting the urge to throw the traitorous computer against the wall.

I sucked it up. I started training to hand-write this exam. But even that wasn't the worst thing that happened.

A week later, my wife called me up from Singapore. She told me my marriage was over. I fought hard, trying to change her mind, to make her at least give me time until after my exam to work things through. She didn't. She was adamant. One week before the exam, I was so exhausted that I gave up. She conceded me a three-month hiatus, but even then, I knew things were over.

And just like that, my reason for working so hard for the Bar Exam was taken away.

I passed the Bar Exam. I took that sucker by the horns, and gave it my best shot, then went back to Singapore in tears. By the time I knew the results, the three month hiatus was over and I was facing an impending divorce. I guess I could have flown back to California to find a job, but then, what would be the point?

It is not my intention to make this sound like an "Against All Odds" story. Rather, this is a story about perspective. Right now, the Bar Exam may feel like the most important thing in the world to you. Passing it is the culmination of your dream to be a lawyer. Nothing else should matter, right?

You see, life has this funny way of throwing curve balls at you. You cannot possibly anticipate the million and one things that will happen to make your life miserable during the Bar Exam. The secret, the REAL secret that the Bar Exam doesn't want you to know about, is that these things don't matter.

Ultimately, your life after the results of the Bar Exam, pass or fail, is your own. You are the one living your life. Not the State Bar Examiners. Not Richard Sakai. You.

To this day, when people ask me what my finest hour is, I tell them it's taking the Bar Exam. It isn't because I passed. It's because I made it through alive. It made me realise the depths of endurance I had. It showed me that I had friends who cared about me. It made me realise I was loved.

The Bar Exam is no monster that thrives on corpses of failed students. It's no mirror reflecting your worst fears back on you. It's there, and it's not. It's you. Only you. You give it meaning. You make it the monster. You turn it into the mirror.

All you need to do is reach out your hand, and reach right through. Then go on living.

Best of Luck,
Anthony Lim

Why Learn Swordplay?

Because Swords Don't Run Out of Bullets.

Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Am back. Missed out the Teochew Duck Porridge near the PJ Hilton (where I was staying). Experimented on KFC instead. Found it much better than Singapore. Dunno why.

Ah well. Good to be back.

Heading Off

Heading off to KL for a business trip. See you guys when I get back.

P.S What the heck is there in Petaling Jaya to eat?

Almost Infamous Part V

I've known Christopher since I was 15. We met through a mutual friend. My first encounter with Christopher was....tense, to say the least. I don't wish to rake up the past. Suffice to say, he isn't the same person that he is now. To be fair to him, I'm not the same person I used to be either.

Fast forward approximately 15 years.

I am walking in a shopping center near my workplace where who do I bump into but Christopher himself. He runs up a descending escalator to catch up with me, on the ascent, when he spots me.

It is the first time I've seen him in person in years. I've, of course, heard of his success with his book "Harvesting the seeds of prosperity". I've not read it myself, but from what I've read of the excerpts, I see very sensible advice.

I smile. We catch up. He reads this blog, which is a bit of a surprise and relief to me, since I didn't have to update him much on my life. I'm glad, because repeating my story is starting to get a little weary.

I've been catching his commentary on occasion on Mr Wang's blog and on Intelligent Singaporean. Christopher is an incisive as ever. There is something different about him though. He is appears more settled and less cutting. If it were two years younger, I'd say it was the marriage. (Congrats again by the way). I'd like to think I know better.

Perhaps it's a change of brain biochemistry at age 30. Maybe it's just life wearing away at rough edges. I remember a time when Christopher and I were hungry young men ready to take on the world. We have grown wise. We have figured out that no one achieves success. One merely prepares for it and has it settle on oneself like a mantle.

We exchange numbers. Chris makes me an interesting offer, and I smile, and indulge in it for a while. We promise to keep in touch.

Thank you Chris, for running up the escalator to meet an old familiar face.

Ridiculously Tired

Am swamped at work this week. Have a number of corporate training sessions to give, plus am in the midst of changing office.

I must be getting paranoid. I read this on LMD's site and instead of being amused, as I normally am, I started wondering if I happened to be responsible for the "particularly slow and boring training session".

I started becoming particularly paranoid when I realised that I could be reading about a colleague's sexual habits. That would be wrong on so many levels.

Then I looked at the date of posting. It was Wednesday. I didn't conduct a training session on Wednesday. -phew-

Stupid paranoia.

Edit - Am back to being paranoid. LMD's post was at 00.22 Wednesday, which means she was referring to Tuesday afternoon. Ugh. Argh.

Knowing Someone

Just when you think you know someone, life pulls a twist.

I've a friend that I've got a....peculiar relationship with. He's one of the most money-grubbing individuals I know, always out to make a buck. He's the kind of friend I'd shake hands with, then count if I'm missing fingers after. On my part, I often talk to him about gaming, business and ethics. I occasionally act as his prosthetic conscience, and try to give him my insight into the corporate world from my ivory tower.

Yet, somehow, through all the conflicting values, I never asked the most important question, "Why?"

Today I discovered why.

Turns out that his granny suffered a stroke 11 years ago. This was the granny who raised him, who loved him very much. He gives her eulogy tomorrow. He is using Gandalf's "White Shores" speech.

Today, I find out that his grandma's medical fees and care has been costing him a lot of money.

Today, I see my friend in a new light. And yet, somehow, not.

Rest well, G. My prayers are with you.

Granado Espada @ Zouk - Swordplay Demo

Some media coverage of the event.



Aaron and Jeffery demonstrating 2nd Drill



Page and Seng Kian demonstrating 3rd Drill



Me and Josh Demonstrating 2nd Drill in armor. I'm the one getting manhandled.



Me and Josh Demonstrating 3rd Drill in armor. I'm the one getting manhandled.

Added: MyPaper has covered our free spar here. Emoboy at Gameaxis also mentions us in his blog post.

Granado Espada Launch

The Compagnia Della Spada....


Left to Right - Tome, Greg, Me and Josh

....cordially invites you to the launch of....



Granado Espada

Join us, the PHEMAS demo company, at Zouk on the 16th of June. We'll have a booth as well as a structured demo at 1430. There we will be demonstrating what we're about, and some of the training and drills we do. We're a pretty friendly bunch, so don't shy okay?

Just turn up and have fun. I hear Zouk's going to be open all day, and the entrance is going to be decorated as a Hill Giant! There will be people dressed up as characters in Granado Espada and for the daytime, at least, there will be no age limit.

As for me, this will be my virgin demo. I'm terribly excited - not the least for being able to indulge my geekiness in the center of one of the most happening clubs in Singapore!

If there are any questions, leave me a comment and I'll do what I can to answer them. Hope to see you these!

(Update: Apparently, we are the opening act as well!)

P.S - I've deliberately dated this post ahead of time to keep this post on the top of my blog until the date of the event. My other posts will appear below this in the interim, so scroll down for regular developments.

大雨

My apologies in advance to my readers who don't speak Mandarin.

One of the problems with not watching TV anymore is that you miss some incredibly good stuff...like this. I originally dismissed Project Superstar as an American Idol clone. I stand corrected - some of the singers here are seriously seriously talented.

It also helps that the particular song they performed is an all-time favourite of mine. I grew up on this song. It's one of those songs that I understand even better now that I've grown up a bit.

Short Translation of the Lyrics: Woman catches her (former?) lover with a new gal. She has two options - let them see her, or sneak away. The song essentially sings of her moment of indecision.

Time to go rip up my parent's CD collection on the off chance it is there.

Midevil Teddy v 2.0

The Steel Version....

"Everyone has temptations..."

"....The great temptation for all of you is to believe that the one-tenth of one percent of you which is different and which brought you here and which can bring you great riches or whatever else you want, is really the sum of who you are and that you deserve your good fate, and others deserve their bad one. That is the trap into which you must not fall."

- Former POTUS William Clinton, Harvard College Class Day '07

Comedy and Change

"But resisting old age makes you old. It makes your losses serious. When you accept those losses, on the other hand, they become comic. You defeat old age by making friends with it. By letting it win. And you might as well, because it's going to anyway."

Gary Kamiya, "I'm younger than that now", Salon.com

It's been a year now. The question remains - "How do I cope?". The answer is, I didn't. There are days where I am inexplicably grief-stricken for no reason. There are nights where I relive that fateful day in California where everything came crashing down, except in my dreamscape, the scenarios mutate into a literal multitude of torments.

There is one thing to be said. The grief-stricken days are far fewer now. The nightmares trouble me far less.

I bring up Mr Kamiya's excellent article because it is relevant. Old age is the avatar of what we fear most - inevitable change. What do you do when Fate drives you away from where you want to be?

Healing is not in defiance, as I once thought. It is not in acceptance, nor rage. It does not force itself into your psyche, but descends upon you as a butterfly upon a flower. It cannot be forced, cannot be accepted, merely integrated.



The comedic attitude offers a kind of resignation, a calm surrender to the inevitable. And it's regenerative because it doesn't see change as the enemy. It's an invincible, self-fulfilling belief, one that bubbles up from somewhere unseen....This may seem like a superficial way to live, all "positive thinking" and blind optimism. But it isn't. Comic laughter emerges from the darkness. It isn't naive. It coexists with tragedy, but it cannot be defeated by it. It gets, literally, the last laugh. The man of comedy has experienced the pain of life, been staggered by its strangeness. He turns his staggering into a self-mocking dance. His laughter does not deny his losses. It is built on them."

- (emphasis mine)

Spot on. Quite a few of my new friends have already noted my razor tongue and sense of humor. Older friends will note that my laughter is no longer tinged with the same cutting edge it used to have.

I laugh the way I do now knowing I have lived through personal tragedies, I have paid the price for my dreams, and I will go on living my life. I don't celebrate my loss by displaying my scars, neither do I mourn the loss. Somehow, laughter becomes easier each day, just like how life goes on.

Endure, and eventually endurance will give. Defy, and eventually strength will go. Rage, and eventually your anger will burn out. Accept, and eventually, your pain will consume you. Surrender to it, for inevitable change is just that - inevitable.

Surrender enfolds your tragedy and transforms it. It allows you to laugh at what once made you cry, to look to the past with no bitterness, nor regret, nor nostalgia, to look to the future with no fear, anxiety, or sadness.

Time to keep on keeping on.

War Never Changes...

It's back! It's back! A 10 year wait and it's back! -dances for joy-

It looks like Bethesda has gotten the atmosphere and mood of the games right. It's almost as if Bethesda created the teaser specifically to reassure Fallout fans that Fallout 3 will not be the abortion of the game that is Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel. -spits on Interplay-

The fact that it is rumoured to be FPS concerns me a little. However, I think the modern trend is to integrate good storytelling with kick-ass, in-your-face action. Gears of War is a good recent example of this. IF they integrate good character building mechanics (i.e: Perks) then I think they will have an awesome game on their hands, regardless of where they place the camera.

Tycho describes it best I think.

"Fallout is not - for me - defined by its perspective. It's defined by the unique setting, and the meaningful, satisfying choices I can make to affect that setting. I don't care where the camera is. If those things are intact, they can put the camera in geosynchronous Goddamn orbit. "

(Hat Tip to Penny Arcade.)

Midevil Teddy

That's what Tome has taken to calling me. That padded coat I'm wearing is called a gamberson, and I've added a padded coif/arming cap to protect my noggin. The whole effect makes me look a little pong-pong and huggable.

Note to self: Full-speed drills are awesome, stress training is even more awesome, and slowly discovering yourself as a swordsman is just rocking.

At What Price, Peace?

"Memorial Day orators will say that a G.I.'s life is priceless. Don't believe it. I know what value the U.S. government assigns to a soldier's life: I've been handed the check."

Andrew J. Bacevich is an anti-war writer who writes for the Washington Post. I do not claim in-depth knowledge of his other articles, but this article struck me as being particularly poignant - he lost his son in a suicide bomb attack in Iraq.

That line above, especially, reminds me of the recently reported incidents, where 3 young men serving out their National Service lost their lives in a freak accident, and another paralysed from waist down is forced to live on $500 a month for the rest of his life.

I understand the need for National Service, even though I dislike it intensely. I can even understand the necessity of creating one-sized-fits-all policies to at least create the illusion of equality.

What I cannot accept is how easy it is to justify sacrifices in the name of a greater good when the person making the justifications is not the person making the sacrifice.

If defense is something everyone in the country benefits from, why does half the population escape it? Why create distinctions in practice for "white horses" where none exist on paper? What practical reason can there be?

If globalisation is something all Singaporean's benefit from, why does the benefits of globalisation fall mostly on the top 10th percentile while the bottom 10th percentile are trapped in poverty with even fewer opportunities for social mobility? Why is it so easy for Parliament to say "Here's your $290, too bad"?

If a relationship is something that both people benefit from, why do I see so many couples with one person bearing most of the burdens while another deriving most of the benefits?

Why do we do this to each other? Are we truly that monstrous?

Dating

A buddy of mine recently met a girl online. The fact that they are attracted to each other is, of course, apparent even to the blind, deaf, dumb and intellectually disabled.

I have my misgivings. What do they know about each other, beyond a few shared IM conversations and emails? What if they are only attracted to each other's online persona's? How do I know she's not a Glenn Close wannabe?

Then Perspective made her presence felt, and reminded me that even I didn't know the people I've been with for a long time. Do we truly know the people we love? Does it even matter that we don't? In the end, is it not hope and faith that drive the first steps to love?

With that, I prayed for someone else for the first time in a while.

Today, God sent me a reminder that unselfish prayers tend to get listened to a lot more.

Go get 'em, Tiger. :)

Finding Peace

"Somewhere along the way after doing what you have to do in your own way in your own time, not calling it healing and not scheduling it on a white board but just bulling your way through it with the uncomprehending determination that is sometimes called faith and sometimes called the instinct for survival and sometimes called a necessary belief in a nourishing fiction, you are going to be talking on the phone or eating or opening a window or just walking dully along and you are going to notice that he's not in your head anymore, he's not shadowing you, he's not pulling you down and you don't even care anymore about what happened or how he left, in fact you hardly notice he's gone except that it is notably quieter in the area of your heart."

- Cary Tennis, from Salon.com, advising a mid-life crisis widow

Amen, brother, and thank you.

Bravo

Oregon Gov. Ted Kulongoski, challenges himself to live on $21 a week.

Bravo, Mr Kulongoski. I'd like to see our Ministers live on SG$290 a month, or take a bus to work for a week.

Sadugudu

Rules of the Game

Sadugudu is a cross between tag, hantam-bolah (but without the bolah) and wrestling. Two teams will take sides of a field, with a middle line marking the border between the two fields. The object of the game is to tag opponents out. The teams will take turns to tag opponents out. A team on offense tags someone out by touching the person in question and making it across to his field.

There are three complications.

Firstly, the team on offense may only send one representative across the field. The minute he cross the field, he must chant "Sadu-Gudugudugudugudu.....". If he stops chanting this while on the other team's field, HE is tagged out.

Secondly, the team on defense MUST hold hands in a line until any person on their team is tagged. From there on, it's a free-for-all.

Lastly, I did mention this is a full-contact game right? The team on defense may grab, tackle, wrestle or pin the hapless team member on offense until he can't keep the chant up anymore.

Here's an excerpt of our game on Sunday.

Round 1:

Anthony starts on offense. He crosses the field with 6 defenders. He tries a few test swipes, without effect. Suddenly, he darts left touches Andy on the extreme left and sprints back. No tackles. Andy is eliminated.

Round 4:

Anthony's team is on defense. Alvin is the representative from the other side. As Alvin approaches, Anthony's team starts surrounding him. Alvin touches the 93 kg, 175cm Aaron and ducks under his outstretched linked arm. Aaron is not fooled. He collapses on Alvin. Alvin is brought down. Aaron resists the urge to smack Alvin's behind and yell "Who's your daddy?!"

Round 7:

Greg and Dawn are left on the other team. Josh is the representative for ours. He darts across, touches Greg. Greg grabs his shirt, slowing him down enough so he can't run away quickly enough. Greg then switches his lock, hoists Josh off his feet until Josh runs out of breath.

Round 10:

Greg is left alone, facing 3 members of our team - me, big Aaron and even-bigger Chris. Greg takes a while to compose himself. Greg takes his time, picks Aaron and runs across the field. Greg is brought down about half-way by Chris and Aaron. Chris clamps down on his upper body while Aaron clings on to one leg. Amazingly, Greg drags himself a good 3 meters despite being pinned and barely taps his home field with his hand. Aaron is eliminated.

Bonus:

If you think what we did was violent, take a look at this. This is Kabbadi, the official sport which was derived from Sadu-gudu.

Word of the Day

C**kblock

(slang) A person who deliberately or inadvertently prevents a man from seducing someone.

I wanted to take this girl to my room, but her roommate was being too much of a c**kblock.

*****

The force of synchronicity bids Dawn writes about the declining standards of English teachers in Singapore while Zach writes about a radical new method of teaching English via visual formatting.

In an effort to address a potential space-time rupture, I add a hasty effort to improve my readers' vocabulary, on a subject close to my heart.

I only pray my efforts are enough.

My New Toy

Place Holder

I have on me:

• fuzzy dice
• the Initial D soundtracks
• a half-complete form
• a handphone that just won't ring to bring me the good news

I'm psyched. I can't wait.

Same Sex Marriage

By way of introduction, Andrew Sullivan is a prominent blogger in the United States. He is homosexual, Catholic and a conservative. What is most important about Mr Sullivan is that he is lucid and eloquent.

I cannot do better than to point my readerst to this post.

"I remember a story told by a friend during the plague years. He was visiting a dying friend in hospital and a couple of beds down the ward from his friend, the curtains were drawn around a patient. From behind the curtains, he could hear a man softly singing a show-tune. "Well, at least that guy's keeping his spirits up," my friend remarked. "Actually," his dying friend replied, "the man in that bed died this morning and was taken away by his family. That's his boyfriend. The family won't let him go to the funeral or ever see his spouse's body again. They've kicked him out of their apartment. It wasn't his name on the lease. So he's just sitting there, singing their favorite song to an empty bed. It's the last time he'll get that close to his husband. The nurses didn't have the heart to tell him to leave yet. He's been there for hours.""

Singapore's greatest flaw is not its inability to debate. It's greatest flaw is its inability to confront. We've lived too long in a city where the homeless are out of plain sight, religious and racial sensitivities get undiscussed but somehow acted upon, and a magic vacuum cleaner exists to santise our words, thoughts and deeds so no difficult questions ever have to be dealt with, merely discussed.

I wonder what I would do if I was there at the hospital. Don't you?

(Hat Tip to Zach for putting this link up on his blog, and for pointing out that Mr Sullivan is a conservative, not a Republican.)

Family

Swordsmanship was something I always wanted to do. It was a marriage of the geek and agggression in me. I would gladly have suffered fools to learn it well.

Yet, I suffered no fools. What I found was family, filling a void in me that I never thought I had.

You don't pick family. So it was with my fellow swordsmen. In my mind, I begin to see my fellow swordsmen take on roles. The strong father. The doting mother. The adventurous eldest brother, always up to some new fascinating activity. The uncle always there for you when you couldn't go to your parents. The spoilt kid sister everyone just loved. The loner middle brother, up to his own antics but somehow never far. The elder sister/mini-mother. The ah-beng cousin.

They are family. I don't know how it happened but they are. You don't choose family, after all.

You only choose what they mean to you.

Continuing Legal Education

A friend I haven't seen in a while spotted my bruises. He asked me about my swordfighting and I responded candidly that yes, sometimes accidents happen, and the results are bruises.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

I jokingly responded, "Continuing legal education."

******

Let me now risk becoming un-funny by explaining my joke.

1. Trial by combat was an accepted form of resolving disputes, imported into England by the Norman conquest.
2. It may have been historically acceptable to use champions to fight on behalf of the litigant.
3. Hence, the first lawyers might have been one of these judicial duelists.

Yes, I know. I'm hilarious.

******

Two interesting points. The right to claim trial by combat is part of English common law, repealed by an act of English Parliament in 1819. I noticed an article in Wikipedia regarding the possibility of this trial being claimable under American common law. An example of English case law principles being adopted into American jurisprudence would be the Rule in Shelly's Case.

The argument is as follows. America declared independence in 1776 - prior to the repeal of trial by combat. Given that America was a seperate sovereign state before the Act was enacted, the Act cannot affect the state of common law in America after it was adopted from British common law. Congress has obviously never repealed this expressly.

Would this argument work in Singapore?

Singapore has the opposite problem - it may have been a separate sovereign state before the UK Act of Parliament was passed. Even so, I'm not quite sure what the legal position is. My problems are as follows.

1. The Second Charter of Justice in 1826 is interpreted specifically to import all English statutes and legal principles into Singapore. The statute abolishing wager of battel (trial by combat as it was known in England) was enacted in 1819. Clearly the statute would be part of Singapore law.
2. Section 4(1) of the Application of English Law Act enacted in 1994, however, clearly repeals all enactments by the Parliament of England, save for a few. I am fairly certain the act repealing trial by combat is not one of the statutes preserved under the Application of English law Act.
3. Section 3 of the Application of English Law Act specifically preserves English common law "so far as it was part of the law of Singapore immediately before 12th November 1993".
4. The question therefore is whether trial by combat was a part of Singapore law "immediately before 12th November 1993". On one hand, the portion of Ashford v Thornton allowing trial by combat was expressly repealed by Parliament before it became part of Singapore common law. One can then argue that this case did not become part of Singapore common law.
   
5. On the other hand, the portion of Ashford v Thornton that stands for the proposition that all law stands until expressly repealed was never repealed by an act of parliament - only the portion allowing wager of battel. Therefore applying the principle of Ashford v Thornton, trial by combat in Singapore is not repealed because the Application of English Law Act repealed the repealing enactment!

I would of course never argue this in front of court. However, I am interested in the answer because I am interested to know if trial by combat does form part of Singapore's legal history, albeit by an extremely perverse methodology of torturing language until it confesses to whatever you want it to say.

Anyone want to hazard a guess?

It Grows...

Great Expectations

Terry Pratchett coined an alternate term for describing humankind. Rather than Homo Sapiens (the Thinking Man), he suggests Pan Narrens (the Storytelling Ape).

Today, my attention is on how our love for narrative have essentially screwed up our lives.

*****

Much has been said in the blogosphere about the Minister's pay rise. I will not repeat arguments about benchmarking, or the audacity of the Government to begrudge $290 a month to the needy while voting for a massive pay rise for themselves. Hat tip to Intelligent Singaporean, which has a fairly comprehensive listing of all the blogs discussing this issue.

If the Singapore Government insists on comparing itself with a corporation, then let it. I'm perfectly happy giving them enough rope to hang themselves with. After all, the issue of executive compensation will only demonstrate how much of the existing discussion on ministerial pay is based on myth.

In the late 90's and early 00's the issue of rising CEO and executive compensation has been debated to death. CEO compensation is spiralling out of control. Shareholders often wonder if what they are paying for actually translates into gains for a company. They would be right. The business world is rife with examples of well-compensated underperforming CEO's.

The arguments for often cited for rising CEO compensation is an attractive one. Top talent deserves top money. The CEO makes or breaks the company after all - would you skimp on hiring a good CEO? There is something in our psyche, after all, that longs for a saviour.

The reality, however, is that the idea of a leader-hero is nothing but a myth. The sucess and failure of a company is more complex then the decision of one powerful man (or for that matter, a group of powerful men). Yet, when things go right, credit is claimed. When things go wrong, responsibilty is disclaimed. Such is the nature of men in power.

I submit that it is more important for us to grow a strong team than to grow strong leadership - something this process of paying top dollar for ministerial talent has completely undermined.

My question to the Government. Are you truly being pragmatic? Or is pragmatism just an excuse to pay yourself more?

******

Here's a second story that I think women have become too enamoured with - success. I will not be commenting much on this one. It still cuts too close to the bone. Suffice to say that I think it is not solely a woman's problem. I've experienced first-hand how it affects men too.

(Hat tip to Zach who found the link, and to Feministing who reported the story.)

Historical Kit

I've completed the non-armor portions of my historical kit, sans actual sword. Needless to say, I'm rather pleased with the result



Casual look


Posta il Donna, or the "Woman's Guard"

Hot and Prickly

I'm down with rashes. Doctor says that it's probably a food allergy. I wouldn't be suprised if I was poisoned somehow after this bit of drama. It's either that or I am just developing an allergy to drama.

I hate antihistamines. They make me drowsy. How's a person supposed to work up righteous rage and smite heathens when he's drowsy? The best I could manage today was an indignant outrage.

I also lost the weekend sleeping off the antihistamines. No swordfighting, minimal gaming, and depleting my diminishing supply of Harry Dresden novels.

I think I'll go kill something now. If I just round up enough effort to be arsed about it.

Drama Dinner

Drama rules my life.

Sunday dinner was supposed to be a simple affair. Miyabi at Raffles Town Club was promoting two lobster specials. Mummy received the flyer, and dragged the whole bunch of us for dinner. So far so good.

When we arrived there, guess what? No lobster. Promotion + no lobster = hissy fit throwing mom.

A scathingly-worded comments card, an email and a harassed floor manager later, we arrived again tonight for lobster. I couldn't resist peeking at the reservation list. Lo and behold, beside my mom's name - "Lobster Reserved".

We arrive at the entrance and the floor manager points at my father's sandals. Wrong dress code. Mummy is not to be denied and browbeats her way to the teppanyaki table. I roll my eyes.

As we are seated, we are served green tea. As the teacups were being placed on the table, I suddenly feel a scalding sensation on my left shirt sleeve. I turn around and I see steaming green tea emptied on my sleeve. Waiter turns a funny shade of white and disappears. The floor manager turns a funnier shade of pale. I lift my sleeve up until the tea cools, then check for burns.

Let's just say I'm glad they don't use scalding hot water for their tea.

Having had it up to my eyeballs in drama, I laugh off the spill and continue with dinner. Not five minutes after the spill, I spot a familiar face. Let's call them Mr and Mrs Chew - parents of an old friend of mine. I walk up to them, wet sleeve and all, to say hi.

They of course ask the question. I reply as honestly as I can. They deserve to know. The silence is defeaning right up to the point my brother steps up and Mr Chew asks him about his life.

When life gives you drama, you make ironic humour.

Warrior Bunny

In grand tradition of Bun-Bun and the Vorpal Bunny, I give you....



....Crusader Fluffy.

WHACK!

Contrary to Hollywood belief, a 3-kg sword made of solid wood striking someone's ribs at practically full-force does not in fact make a sound. Not unless the sword broke said ribs.

That day, I could have sworn I heard a loud resounding "WHACK!"

We were at swordfighting practice. A couple of seniors were taking turns with the instructor at free sparring. I was up next so I was watching intently. It was brutal and elegant. Twice I saw my instructor, Greg, let a blow or two slip by to strike his fencing mask. Most of the time, though, Greg dominated. The seniors were getting seriously owned.

Right up to the point where one of the attacks went awry.

It was a chest level blow. Greg moved to trap the blade under his arm - a legitimate move under the system we use, considering that the ribs would normally be protected by chain mail, plate and padding. One of the seniors mistimed his swing. Greg mistimed his shift. The result - bruised ribs.

Greg was left breathless for a while. I've never actually seen him in so much pain. I offered twice to drive Greg to get his ribs checked out, but he said he was okay. He was. That incident didn't take any edge off him when I sparred with him.

The incident reinforced in me how dangerous this activity can actually be. Tough as Greg is, we were all worried that a rib might have been broken.

It hasn't dissuaded me. Neither did the five thrusts in the face, the two swings to the head, the locked arm, the circular body shove that nearly sent me sprawling.

I'll get better. I must.

*****

Here's another project I'm working on. I'll leave the picture to do the talking.

Changes

"I like your new glasses. They look funky"

Yes. I also wear Zara shirts, Marks and Spencer trousers and Hush Puppies now. I weigh the same, but I've lost inches off my waist and gained inches around my shoulders. I eat out more often, but have mostly stopped snacking. I have more social appointments than I can conceivably handle, but less time to be with myself. Strangely, that matters less to me than it did.

I've almost completely stopped WoWing. I've almost completely stopped watching TV. I spend my time quietly trying to understand myself. I spend my time trying to quietly understand my surroundings. I think more in terms of physical violence, less in terms of concilliation. I read more widely now. I wonder less about how the world works, and more about how I affect the world.

I make more money now. Paradoxically, I am less ambitious. I want to do my job and have the time that is due to me. No job will ever own me again.

The scars have become itchy keloids now. Movie scenes of a BART in motion remind me of its iron tangy scent. From pictures of San Francisco, Berkeley and Oakland I can feel the chill coastal wind, the light humidity of the ever-present fog, the golden champagne of the Californian sun. I'm not Singaporean, any more than I am Californian. Going to one place makes me miss the other. These itches, they remind me that I am in transition. Perhaps that is my fate then, to always be in transition.

It doesn't matter that much to me now - stability, and yet, I am more stable than I've ever been in my life. Perhaps that is life - to always be in transition, always moving from the past to the future, through the junction box we call the present. That is the purpose I chose to impose on my life for now. It is enough for me.

I sleep on a sofa bed. I understand it is not permanent. I will be moving soon. There, then, will be another change. I still cannot spend a night in my old bedroom. I go up on occassion, when I have something to fetch. It's a corpse of the former me. The stuffed toys have understanding looks. I still hear their soft voices . They say to me...

"I like your new glasses. They look funky"

Following Authority

Here's my first reading recommendation for the year.

It takes a while to get through, but it's worth it.

In a nutshell it is research on followers of authority, and the characteristics of authoritarian followers. The reason I find it so fascinating is its application to the Singaporean mindset - both pro and anti-government.

In my attempt not to bias my readers, I will not write more. Read and leave a comment if you want a discussion. I may post my thoughts on this sometime in the future.

Swordfighting

As promised, I return to writing about post divorce issues.

I had recently obtained news that cast my divorce in an entirely different light. I don't quite want to talk about it, but suffice to say, quite a number of the issues that I had written about weren't entirely accurate. In some senses, the divorce still has its impact on me.

A highly cosmetic change was weight. My weight yo-yoed fantastically during this period. I went from blubbery to (relatively) stick thin to blubbery again in a very short period of time. I was seriously wondering if I was developing body image issues or some form of clinical depression. Fortunately, the cause for me was more mundane than that.

When I am upset, I don't eat. My stomach ties itself into knots. When I finally regain my appetite, I usually feel so starved that I eat tons to compensate.

How I regained some measure of discipline was one part discipline, seven parts coincidence. An old friend of mine referred me to this. Over the month and a half that I have started taking it up, it's become the lynchpin of my routine. I've since lost 2 kg over 1 month, and developing some muscle tone.

I suspect my current, slightly-healthier disposition has more to do with the mental aspect than the physical. Having a routine to stick to helps. Doing something you would enjoy helps even more. When that something involves your childhood fantasy of actually being able to swing a sword around, it becomes that much more engaging. Engaging enough that you consider how to make yourself even better at it.

I'm not encouraging all divorced men to go out and take up swordfighting. It's just something I chose to do. What is more important is to head out and do something. Recognise that there is probably going to be a lot of anger and hurt inside you, but there is also going to be a lot of unspent energy. I suggest channeling it into something aggressive and macho-shit.

Yes, I am aware that I will be accused of overcompensating, but I think of it this way. My pride and self-worth took a serious hit during the divorce. Learning to fight, to swing a sword, and to wrestle my opponent to the ground builds my confidence, teaches me something new, and allows me to vent my frustration without actually hurting anyone.

Plus, if I get my hands of a snooker cue or a broomstick during a streetfight, I'd at least be able to take down one assailant before the damn thing breaks and I get overwhelmed.

A New Hope

My divorce is finalized.

I did not cry as much as I thought I would. On the contrary, I feel a vague sense of relief. The worst is over. Time to move on.

****

Somewhere in my flailings to maintain equillibrium, I resorted to hunting for online articles on coping with divorce. What I discovered was fairly shocking.

• A large number of divorce sites are focused on women's issues.
• A large number of the remaining sites focused on men are focused on prospective single parents, especially on how to get and keep custody.
• A large number of sites focus on legal advice, without discussing the emotional impact. This is especially true on Singapore sites.
• An overwhelming number of sites focused on divorced men maintain how one-sided the legal system is against males.
• A minority of divorce sites dedicated to men are incredibly misogynistic.

In short, I could not find many sites that could offer what I was looking for: A fair balanced view of how to cope with life as a divorced man with no kids.

So, here I am, writing again. I am doing this for three reasons.

The first is that it will help my recovery. Writing stuff down allows me to document my progress and track in a tangible fashion how far I have gone and have left to go.

The second is to address the dirth of literature in this area. I confess that I write from a fairly limited perspective. I do not know anything, for example, about what it is like to be the one initiating the splitup. Nevertheless, I am optimistic that what I write here will be comforting at least to the extent that a divorced man can know that he is not alone.

The last is based on a piece of advice that Mr Wang gave me a long time ago. Write about what you know. I know what I've been through very well. I am far from being an expert at this though. I will be writing about what I did to get through this. You mileage may vary.

I will not be writing about certain things though. Don't expect to see these up here. My communications with my ex-wife, if any, will never be mentioned. I don't think she was entirely pleased that I wrote stuff on my blog about our breakup, even though she consented to it. Hence, to be cautious, I will not be writing about it.

I will also not be writing about my dates, relationships or my sex life. I understand that these are aspects of recovering from a divorce. Understandably, I'm a little raw in this area, so I'm not entirely comfortable writing about this.

Oh, and I will still be writing whatever I feel like writing. Interesting stuff I see, shameless plugs, whatever.

****

Yes, this does mean that I'm back. I will be writing as regularly as I can and probably at the frequency that I used to write while I was still in California - i.e updates once every 2 weeks if possible.

I'll be working on a post later in the week about dealing with weight gain/loss during the divorce. In the meantime, if you are interested in hearing about a particular aspect, drop me a line.

It's good to be back.

A Hiatus

This will be my last post for a while.

I had originally intended this blog to document my life's amusing stories. Somewhere along the way, it became a story of hope, of a new life 8000 miles from the place I called "home". Where I could be who I wanted to be.

The story has soured. Hope became tragedy. The anecdotes had turned into raw bleeding word-wounds. I cannot write my story down anymore. It reminds me of the darkest hour I've ever had to face. I don't want to face it anymore. It is too painful.

Oh, the price of wisdom.

I have the opportunity for a new start. A new job, offered to me by an old friend. A new place to live sometime in 2007. A new life. All I want is peace, quiet and a life to call my own. I'm not sure if I am comfortable writing about my new life, so close to the shadow of my old one. Only time will tell.

If you see me in Singapore, wave and smile. You know who I am. I don't know who you are. Email me at khaycelim-at-gmail-dot-com if you prefer.

Have a happy 2007. I hope it is better than 2006.

And Through It All...

I wavered.

I feared.

I cried.

I raged.

I bent.

I broke.

But I did not fall.

The Bar Exam results are out today, and by God, I did not fall.

Thank You

For 6 wonderful years. For showing me a different way. For loving me. For being my wife.

Now we have decided to part ways. We both want it now. I can't live alongside you. You can't live alongside me. I don't know what will happen to both of us, but whatever it is, we can no longer share this road we have walked together for 6 years.

I still love you. I will always love you. I cannot wait for you forever. And now that we are to be apart, I just hope you will remember me well, in spite of everything I've done.

Goodbye.