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 The right to claim trial by combat is part of English common law, repealed by an act of English Parliament in 1819.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 Congress has obviously never repealed this expressly.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.

您吉祥

One of the most interesting experiences I've had to date in Beijing is dinner at 白家园，or "The Bai Family Courtyard". It is a historical site somehow involving the author of 红楼梦, or "The Dream of Red Mansions". I forget how it is connected.



The Entrance



The Family Poem

The entire place is decorated like a Qing Dynasty royal household, complete with lovely ladies dressed in cute Manchu costumes. The men were dressed in Qing soldier uniforms as well, but since they didn't interest me as much, I didn't take any photos of them. Everywhere we went, we were greeted with the traditional Manchu greeting "您吉祥" or "Good luck to you".



My Lovely Guide and I



Assembly of the Maids

The courtyard itself is lovely. Some historical artifacts have been lovingly restored, others replicated.



Bai Family Carriage



Chyrsanthemum Plot



The Courtyard proper.

The interior of the main dining hall is equally impressive.



Replica Throne



The Seats

The food is nothing to write home about. It's mostly typical Northern Chinese faire. I much prefer Southern Chinese cuisine like the kind we get in Singapore. Nevertheless, it was pleasant and the ambience sure made the dinner interesting.



The Spread

Did I mention the maids were extremely easy on the eye?

At Airport Terminal

I'm off. See you all in a week.

To Peking

I am heading to Beijing for a short trip. Things are getting a little emotional here in Singapore and the distance would do me good.  Since there is no access to Blogger in China, I apologise for the state of my blog over the coming week. Will return with updates and hopefully some nice pictures.

Pyrrhic Victory

My degree scroll arrived in the mail today. I worked my ass off for it, even though I could have just coasted.  I am supposed to be proud of it. Why am I not proud of it? Why am I not happy?

I spent dinner last night with someone very dear to me, and someone that I am secretly ashamed of meeting because I let her down terribly in her time of need. Yet, there she is, being with me in my time of need.  I should be happy for her company. Why am I not happy?

We spoke last night of fond rememberings in AC Drama. They are some of my dearest memories, productions I literally gave my all to, pieces of work that have imparted a good portion of the polish I have today. Yet, the memories are bittersweet, marred by feelings of inadequacy, of never being good enough. This nostalgia  supposed to be my best memories. These memories should make me happy. Why am I not happy?

For months I've been functioning, and suddenly, last night it all unravels. Why?