On Plastic and Wasabe Beef

Taking a break from my usual cook-eat-sleep-study routine to check out
some of my fav blogs, and I see this, this and this.

Let me state right upfront - I can't find it in me to condemn Dawn Yang for her behaviour. Furthermore, I do not believe Dawn Yang has done anything particularly deserving of the Singapore Blogs Lynch Mob.

The Cowboy's nailed most of the issues down - there's nothing wrong with having had plastic surgery, living a life of luxury, partying with pretty people nor having great press coverage.

There is one issue that bears examination. Dawn lied. At the very least, she coyly denies having had plastic surgery. This, I think, is the source of ire among the Singapore blogosphere. She lied. She cheated. She deserves to be taken down.

Doesn't she?

----

I asked those questions to tell you this story.

Last Friday, I was rushing from class to my MPRE exam - 25 miles away from where I study. I was already running late and I had to grab lunch from the school cafeteria. I don't normally have lunch there - the food there is way too expensive, but I hadn't had time to pack my homecooked lunch on Friday on account of studying for my exam. So I paid too much for a wasabi beef sandwich, and ran out.

On the way out of the cafeteria, I heard my sandwich go "splat". There it lay, on the ground where pigeons pooped, men trampled and rainwater collected.

I almost cried.

The first thing that crossed my mind was how I couldn't afford another sandwich. I probably could have, but I was afraid that with this "waste" I would somehow be depriving myself of vitally important money down the road. Plus, I knew I wouldn't have the time to queue for another sandwich.

So, feeling like an absolute fool, I scooped it up. Except I didn't eat it straight away. I made to dispose of part of the sandwich into the bin, but retained most of it. I travelled a bit of distance from the cafeteria before I tucked into my soggy, dirty sandwich.

I deceived the crowd around me that I'd disposed of the sandwich when I didn't, because I felt I had to. Heaven forbid if anyone I knew saw me do what I did. I was ashamed that I had to resort to eating something off the ground. So I lied to everyone around me. Most of all, I lied to myself.

---

Yes, Dawn Yang probably should not have tried to play it coy with the truth. Yet, I recall my wasabe sandwich and I just cannot find it within myself to condemn her. Judging by the reaction in the blogosphere, I'd say she was spot-on about her intuition - that people react to plastic surgery, wealth and popularity like it connotes some character flaw.

Put another way - if she weren't rich, popular and pretty, would we even give a $#!+?

I don't know what her reasons are for wanting to mislead, but I'm fairly sure she has her reasons. Regardless of the legitimacy of her reasons, I believe she is entitled to some level of human weakness.

For in the end, are we all not human?

Yay Me

Pardon the long silences. Between cranky school computers and travelling a hundred miles a day, I've had very little opportunity to update people on my situation. I am glad to say that the situation is remedied by the purchase of a slightly-used laptop.

I am currently studying for my MPRE, which is a component of getting called to the California Bar. People tell me its easy. I don't believe them - hence my nigh-religious mugging and neglect of all important things, blogging included.

One thing I have noticed about law school in America. It feels like I'm back in NUS. The more things change, the more they stay the same. The mass hysteria to join large firms, check. Leaving assignments to the last minute, check. Having way too many activities to reasonably choose from, double check.

More later. Finishing up a mock MPRE exam.

On the Road Again

Before I begin this post proper, let me say what a pleasure it is to be accused of murder by Mr Wang. Go read, quite fun.

Driving a 100 miles a day gives you plenty of radio time. With increased exposure to music, combined with my propensity towards aural learning, means I get Last Song Syndrome a lot. It's generally not unpleasant.

However, some days, it becomes more than pleasant. Some days it takes over your life, hits you just there, and leaves you gasping for breath. Some days it becomes your personal soundtrack, and you wonder if the music is the message you've been looking for.



"I know there's something in the wake of your smile.
I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yea.
You've built a love but that love falls apart.
Your little piece of heaven turns too dark."

- Listen to Your Heart, DHT and Edmee

I'm not much of a Roxette fan. I think the female lead for Roxette sounds way too harsh for their rendition of "Listen to Your Heart", and I don't think the way Roxette oversynthesizes their music does justice to the song.

I first heard the DHL version a day ago. Today, at 7 am, on my way to class, I heard it again. I heard it one last time at 8 pm, on the way back from classes. Each time, the raw simplicity of piano + voice left me breathless. There's a raw honest simplicity in music that dares to use rests in music as an invitation to fill the music with my own thoughts and personal experiences.

It is, however, the voice that truly carried the song. Clean, clear, powerful, yet so very...real. As if the song wasn't really sung and broadcast on radio, but sung by a dear friend, right beside me.

I swear, I even identified the friend. And as I named the friend, the voice changed again, and I heard in the song another friend's voice. Then another. Then another.

They all sang together, and magically blended together, for the voice in the song was the song of EveryWoman. I found myself missing these friends in Singapore terribly. The names I ran through weren't the people I had expected to miss, but I did. Even as the song ended, the feeling of loss remained.

Your mind may play tricks on you, but your heart always knows who it misses.

Zhng My Books

I am -such- a geek. Given a choice between zhnging my car and zhnging my books, I'd almost always pick the latter.

Hence, I am extremely appreciative of living in Berkeley. One of the perks of living in Berkeley is that you're in a place where cool authors visit. One of the downsides of -studying- in Santa Clara while -living- in Berkeley is that you're usually away when that happens.

In September, Cody's, a bookstore 15 minutes walk away from my house, brought in Neil Gaiman -AND- Terry Pratchett. Except on both the days they were around, I wasn't. At least, I -think- I wasn't. I didn't even remember they were popping by.

To make matters worse, I had none of my Pratchett books with me, and I don't own a single Gaiman book. Yeap, not a single one. Not American Gods. Not Anansi Boys. Not Neverwhere. Not a single Sandman comic. No book zhnging. Damn.

I figured body autographs were just out of the question anyway.

Well, at least Lois McMaster Bujold will be popping by in October. Hopefully I'll be able to catch her.

Anyone wishing to pledge their firstborn/sell an organ/donate to my non-existent scholarship fund in exchange for zhnged (Read: Autographed) books are very welcome to email me at khaycelim-at-gmail-dot-com. Perks for those who know me. I'm good that way.

P.S I saw an autographed copy of Anansi Boys still available at Cody's I think. Pre-zhnged books. Anyone wants?

Business

The art of selling something for a fraction of its true cost while disguising and passing said cost to someone else.

'Nuff said.

I Am That Guy

I am the blogger that started blogging as an intllectual experiment, and continued blogging because it must be done.

I am the child who shattered the glass doors of our brand new radio set. I am the child who destroyed our main sliding doors, also made of glass. I am the child who got his hands tied up by rafia string. I am the child that slipped those bonds and proceeded to destroy yet another household item in the process.

I am the brother who is forever guilty of all the blessings I have that my brother does not. I am the son who is forever angry at the lies my parents told me for my own good, and yet still love them very much. I am the husband that often feels inadequate because he can't promise anything in his future for his wife.

I am the driver that drove drove down the wrong side of a road at 2 a.m at night, until my passengers screamed.

I was the Christian that left church because of accusations that I was a Satan worshipper. I was the Christian that could not believe my buddist parents would go to Hell. I am the Christian that could not believe that Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons and Harry Potter are works of the Devil. I am the Christian that could not believe God was so heartless to allow men to rule the Church.

I am the soldier that thought he was going to die. I am the soldier that thought he was going to get charged. I am the soldier that somehow muddled through all that without a scratch.

I am the ACS boy who spoke mandarin, plays the chinese flute and watched mandarin serials. I was the ACS boy that all other boys picked on. I am the man who never understood to this day why boys can be so cruel to each other, and yet is so very appreciative of the strength that these experiences have given me.

I am the stuttering debator, the actor doomed for supporting roles, the dysgraphic writer, the singer that does not read music. I am the flawed artist, the incomplete creator, so grateful for every opportunity to create.

I am that guy.

Tagged. I'm it. Again.

Since I got tagged twice by Dawn and Gloria, I will attempt to finish this 20 questions in less than 1 minute so that I can not tag anyone at all.

20 Random Facts about yourself.

1. I've been RPing for 22 years
2. I started with D&D and moved on to Marvel Super Heroes.
3. FPS games give me vertigo.
4. Heights give me vertigo.
5. I'm now into my fifth collection of game dice.
6. I've painted exactly one miniature in my life.
7. I play the chinese flute.
8. I read notes in numbers - a result from playing the chinese flute.
9. Reading notes in numbers ensured a short a capella career for me.
10. I almost joined Singapore Idol.
11. The reason I didn't join was because I knew I was going to be in California soon.
12. I detest giant robots.
13. Except Transformers. Transformers are cool.
14. I have over 20 teddy bears.
15. I have over 5 seperate colonies of teddy bears.
16. I can sing almost any 80's cartoon theme song, word for word.
17. One of my favourite songs happens to be the theme song for the sitcom, "Growing Pains".
18. I can't take Mary-Kay and Ashley Olsen seriously cos I remember them from the time they were babies in "Just the Ten of Us."
19. Dysfunctional people fascinate me.
20. I can swear in 5 different languages.

Darn. 2 minutes. I tag Edward Yong and Slinky.

Freedom of Speech

The beauty of freedom of speech is that, even if you say exactly the same thing that you would say without freedom of speech, what you say becomes that much more significant.

There are tons of subjects I could write on. Seditious bloggers. Comparisons with US and Singapore law. More whining about living in the States and how expensive it is. Today will be no whining, no commentary, no intellectual discourse. Yes, these things matter to me, but there's one thing above all that matters most.

On this day, a year ago, we threw a great big party, knelt a lot before relatives I rarely met, and had a grand old time.

Fast forward a year from now. My wife and I just shared a wonderful, home-cooked dinner (wonderful, because I made it) of cream pasta, and blackberry pie. We toasted each other in our coffee mugs of water, ate off metal and pyrex plates and rickety Dollar Shop cutlery. I couldn't be more grateful. We've kept our promises to each other.

Of all the things that I could say, this is the most significant.

"Happy 1st Anniversary, dear."

The Future is not Future-Proof

During lunch on Thursday, I had a chat with one of my LLM classmates. She asked me what I was doing in Santa Clara when I didn't have (i) a scholarship and (ii) sponsorship for my degree.

In my head there was only one answer. "My future."

That would have been the simple and misleading answer - it would have raised assumptions that I was here to improve my career prospects, and I'm not -solely- here to advance my career.

I told her as much of the story as I felt I needed to. I told her about my wife coming here for 5 years. I told her that leaving her for 5 years was unthinkable. I told her that it was a small sacrifice to leave my job and come here to improve myself. I told her about how I was here on savings and family money, and how I needed to ration my money. I told her about how guilty I felt about taking family money, and how important it was for me to do well in school. I told her all this and I realise now that this was still misleading.

I can't tell her the full story, because I'm not sure I know the full story - and it's my story to boot.

My wife is here for 5 years. That's the only constant I have for the next 5 years. If I am truly as future oriented as Mr Wang makes Ennegram 5 types out to be, I should not, rationally, have made this trip. Yet, here I am. I don't know what is going to happen after my LLM ends.

Yet, it is the future-orientation that drove me to this decision - when loved ones are apart, they grow apart. It is natural. They lack shared experiences. I cannot imagine being apart from my wife for 5 years. She will be a different woman when she returns. I will be a different man.

My wife had a wonderful opportunity to do what she wanted in Berkeley. She would have been foolish to turn it down, and I know that if she turned it down it would have affected our relationship - I know she wouldn't blame me, but I would blame myself for causing her to miss this chance. It was for her future that I am here. It was for our future that I am here. But what about my future? What am I to do here?

I often overstate my case when I say I sacrificed a promising career in law to be with my wife. The truth is probably that I sacrificed a career in law to be with my wife - the way I see it, there is nothing promising left about legal practice in Singapore. The market has played itself out. Sure, there will be adjustments over the long term, but these adjustments, logically, affect those without the wealth and power to protect themselves, i.e, young lawyers like myself.

In short, I've seen my future in Singapore legal practice, and I do not like it.

I have, in effect, only one choice left - wipe the slate clean, and see what other possibilities I can develop. That decision was what lead me here. I did not like my future, and I've done what I can to change it. In many ways, I'm -still- doing what I can to change it.

I now count pennies to make sure that my money lasts - I am afraid that spending on luxuries now will mean not having money for rent and food later. I wake up early mornings and commute from Berkeley to Santa Clara - 98 miles there and back daily. I read my cases. I study, and return home to cook, clean and sleep. I'd like to tell myself I'm studying hard, and my classmates are impressed with my dilligence, but I always feel like I should be doing more. I know I goof off to blog, comment, and play computer games.

I don't know what will happen to me in a year's time. That's the scariest thing that I've ever done. In a year's time, if I don't get a job, it will mean choosing between leaving my wife and taking more family money to continue studies. Either way, I will have lost on my own terms.

Perhaps that is what drives me now - not knowing what the future will bring. This drive, this bundle of love/guilt/hope, this feeling and knowing in your heart that tomorrow will bring something better, this small prayer that I'm not just in self-denial, that's what drives me.

My future.

Manberries of Titanium Steel

I'm not dead yet.

On August 25, 2005, I wrote a whiny post about turning 29 in a foreign country. It was essentially a complaint about turning 30 in a year's time and my bitchy friends not letting me forget it. My non-bitchy friends did not let me forget it too, but since they were (i) nice to me (ii) threw me a party and/or (iii) fed me, I'm all good about them. They know which category they're in.

That post will never see light of day. It's not right. I should have more manberries than that.

****

"There are two types of balls: there are big brave balls, and there are little mincey faggot balls."

- Bullet Proof Tony, played by Vinnie Jones, Snatch.

****

I'm a student, and I'm funded through savings and family money. If I don't find work, I won't have luxuries but I won't starve. Not this dude. This dude has serious, diamond-hard, basketball-sized manberries. My own manberries feel puny and mushy in comparison.

He delivers pizza to make ends meet. He sleeps in a room with no heat under a large pile of blankets. He does all this, and he doesn't mind because he wants to make things better.

Now THAT is a Jim Braddock right there.

Cabbage Soup

The last of the IKEA furniture has been assembled. I'm settling down to a new routine of commute-study-household chores. This was the first weekend I've had since my wife arrived where I could kick back, relax and enjoy a peaceful Sunday.

The wife and I spent a bit of time tidying up the house - with the new furniture and tasks, we had to do more, but it was nothing we couldn't manage. The wife has obviously had more experience living alone than I do and it showed through her breakdown of the household chores. Another reason I am glad to have her around.

I experimented this week with making soup - Sunday afternoon, I made chinese cabbage soup. My first attempt was bland to say the least. After consulting with my mom about her recipe, I found the ingredient for making the soup base. Boiled soy beans.

Hence, I tried it out this week - and it worked. It tasted almost as good as the ones that I used to have back in Singapore, and I added some stuff that I liked and were not part of the original recipe - beef (taboo in my house), mushrooms and carrots. It was a good meal.

After the end of the meal, I sliced up half a watermelon, and I suddenly had waves of nostalgia for Singapore. Watermelon after a good chinese cabbage soup meal was something bordering on a family tradition - and the tastes brought back memories of Singapore.

Strange how a familiar taste can evoke memories like that.

Changes

No incisive commentary today unfortunately.

My wife has finally arrived. We have spent the last few days assembling furniture and generally getting my spartan apartment furnished and homely. My hands are worn to stubs from twisting one too many allen keys, and my body aches from carrying over 500 lbs of furniture. Admittedly, 300 of those 500 lbs were delivered, but STILL...

I've been having a good time feeding my wife the various dishes I've mastered over the two month's I've spent here. Work is hard, but we're doing well.

Oh, and I've gone through a major life change. Better to show you.


What better way to feel the California breeze?

Cinderella Nation

"I have to believe I got some kind of say over our lives. When things are bad we can do something about it, make things better for our family."

- James Braddock, as played by Russell Crowe, "Cinderella Man"

I do not believe a country that decides what's best for its people. I believe that people decides what's best for its country.

Like a looming shadow, we, the citizens of Singapore, have seen our lives become increasingly complicated, increasingly expensive, increasingly insecure. We have seen men we trusted tap on our trust, in exchange for gold. We have seen the waking of the giants of the Orient, and the waves that have come crashing down on this little midget of an island.

But we are still alive. While we are alive, we can still make history.

During the Great Depression, an over-the-hill boxer, Jim Braddock, boxed with a shattered right hand. Against all odds, he won a grueling 15 round match to become the heavyweight champion of the world. He did not fight for glory, fame or riches.

He fought to buy milk for his kids.

People call the Singapore blogosphere infantile. I don't. I scan Singapore blogs and I see Jim Braddocks. The everyman, beating back demons in their lives with quiet dignity and compassion. I cannot begin to imagine how difficult life must be for some of these bloggers. Yet, these men and women still have smiles, and share them freely. They share their stories because they have a story to tell.

These stories are often fairy tales. True, people often get killed in fairy tales, but so do dragons.

The story of Singapore is a fairy tale, but the men and women responsible are often forgot. Not the statesmen, the politicians, the wealthy. The everyman that carried the bricks, laid the mortar, clawed at the earth in search of a better life for their families. These everymen remind me that no politician, statesman or leader, no evil looming shadow, no twisted complication can grant us that which we already have, nor take away that which they cannot - our dignity, our compassion, our love for family, and our willingness to bear any hardship for their sake.

Happy National Day, Singaporeans.

The Kangaroo and the Rabbit

The summer's almost over. The fall session starts in two weeks. From now till then, I have some well-earned time off.

My summer session has been fantastic. My LLM classmates are a hoot. More importantly, I got an overview of US Law - and learnt to see Singapore's legal system with fresh eyes. Learning about US Law through the eyes of a Singapore lawyer is the mental equivalent of seeing a kangaroo and picturing a rabbit.

You know sometime a couple of million years ago they shared an ancestor. You can even see the common features. Yet, somehow, you can't seem to grapple with the fact that many legal terms you take for granted mean something absolutely different, or are approached completely differently.

I have started to grow to respect US lawyers. Yes, they have a reputation for being ambulance chasers and aggressive beyond reason - in some cases this is well-deserved. Yet, during my course of study, I find that even 1st year US Law students have to deal with a level of complexity that just isn't found in our single-city state. The multiplicity of different ways of thinking by the law - created because each of the 50 states is, in fact, a sovereign - creates a dynamic and culture that is just not found here.

At the heart of it, it is being comfortable with uncertainty.

Singapore laws are, at their heart, stable. Singapore legislative drafting is generally overinclusive - this cannot be done in the US by virtue of the Constitution, itself a vague document. US case law often cross-germinates, and judicial ideas get tossed around, exchanged, and incorporated - what happens once in a case does not always get repeated.

More importantly, the litigious society that America is has one great impact - there is a mechanism, at least, for the people here to air their grievances. I find no such safety valve in Singapore. Here, at least, I can advise my client to lobby the legislature and sincerely mean it.

I worry for the day where a pipe in Singapore's social structure bursts. I doubt it will be a dramatic event. Rather, like a small pipe bursting in a large house, the effects will only be felt when one ignores the burst pipe long enough.

Exams

Have an exam on Monday 1st August. Will be back after that!

So You Wanna Be a Game Designer?

Gamespot is running an article on how to become a game designer. It's not easy.

Then again, many things in life worth doing are not easy.

A Defence of and from Xiaxue

Anonymous writes in comment to my previous post:

"When I saw the pic, instantly I was repulsed. A girl who exposing herself in public because she's "bored" clearly has psychological issues. I mean, is this a normal response to boredom?"

To which I responded:

"Nudity is treated differently in different countries, in different contexts. I personally think what SPG has done is artistic, and displays an aesthetic beauty in the female form. The fact that its -her- female form that she posted is something that I respect even more."

Xiaxue writes a passionate article on why her position is the opposite of mine, perhaps directed at this post, perhaps not. However, I have reason to believe she has at least read some of the commentary, because she writes:

"Nude photos can PASSABLY be called art. But flashing... That's where I draw my line. I think it is crude, tasteless, and not to mention a cheap stab at getting attention."

Let me get some facts straight. There are two photos in issue here. One is the original black-and-white photo that caused the whole Straits Times controversy. The other is the photo Kenny Sia put up. I think there's an injustice done to link or compare the two.

The first can tolerably be called art, depending on your opinion - it certainly is in my opinion. The second is more dicey. I have not commented at all about the act SPG's exposure - an issue I wish to address here.

Xiaxue's next comment:

"Nice try, but not bombastic enough: Why not spread your legs, hold them up tightly behind your ears, and let everyone have a clear look at your genitals? If they want, they also can insert foreign objects inside. And feel free to blog about it!"

Xiaxue, the reverse is also true. Would you like to be punished for removing your veil in front of anyone but your husband? That's an unfortunate reality in several fundamentalist Muslim states. If there is a line drawn somewhere, I'd like to know where it is. Certainly, the heart of the controversy here is WHERE the line is drawn, if indeed there is one drawn at all. I think the variance in attitudes towards the whole incident can be demonstrated by the whole spectrum of views available.

What I've written in my article about Kenny applies equally to you, Xiaxue - I don't necessarily like what you write, or the personal attacks you occassionally mount, but I don't condone people trying to jeer you away. -IF- one has something to say about your posts, say it, and say it civilly - or just ignore it. I will not condone the act of hacking into someone's blog. That's an act of cowardice, slightly below the bombing on someone's house.

There is, however, another aspect to this that I did not take into account, and probably should have. For that I apologise.

I think there's a lot -I- can learn about friendship from three bloggers - minishorts, Xiaxue and Kenny. Whatever your argument or methods for or against the whole incident, you probably did so out of friendship to Kenny. That is something I admire greatly.

Moreso, it takes a certain kind of stubborn courage to write what you write and still not be affected by hatemail, and that is the most honest kind of journalistic integrity there is. It's easy to write dispassionately (as I do) - and still continue writing. The pressure to self-censor isn't as great.

I'm not your friend or Kenny Sia's or Claire Wong's friend - I've never had the opportunity to meet you or them. In so far as my post hurt you or your friendship in any way - I apologise unreservedly. Words cannot be unsaid unfortunately.

I do not have to agree with you. You don't have to agree with me. I ask that you try to understand that I wrote what I wrote because I don't think the commentators in Kenny's post should have expressed their disapproval quite so harshly - a sentiment I am fairly sure you can understand. I'm glad the three of you mended your friendship.

There are always circumstances beyond what we know, and a culture of tolerance in the blogosphere is something I've always advocated and strived for.

Or, perhaps I'm losing it, reading too much into a post I should not have. Please feel free to ignore a small readership blog with a bombastic writing style then.

OMG...They Killed Kenny!

-deep sigh-

Kenny Sia, Malaysia's Number 1 blogger, appears to have fallen on hard times, due to a picture he took of Sarong Party Girl, sans top. He has since taken down said pictures due to some rather strong response from his readers - minishorts in particular.

Update: The post is gone. Kenny has taken the whole post down. In its place he's put up a parody of a parody.

I confess to enjoying some of Kenny's older gags - in particular, the Xiaxue Proposal and the recent parody of Sarong Party Girl's nude photo. Here's the question - what has changed about this new gag that provoked mob-lynching?

Some of the comments I've managed to glean from Kenny's post:

"This post is offensive. Why would a so called decent guy like you think this is funny?

Could you give me ten good reasons why your girl friend would be okay with this? No decent girl out there would think this is okay. I never posted a comment before, and I have enjoyed reading your decent posts in the past. Even the one about your dad made me all teary. But this is utter nonsense."

- by aka

I lost my respect for you Kenny. And I pity your gf. How do you think she feels when she sees that pic? Maybe you're saying that 'hey, it's just in the name of fun', but this is already over the limit. At least respect your gf by not posting up a pic of you and another girl - half naked - for the world to see.

Totally tasteless.

- by bleh

It seems to come down to (i) Kenny has a girlfriend (ii) Kenny should not be posing half-nude with Sarong Party Girl and (iii) Kenny should not have post these pictures. My question here is - what is the limit? Did Kenny step over some invisible line of morality?

Let me come right out and say it - I can't find it in me to condemn either of them, or both of them collectively.

To the facts - from what I gathered, I doubt Kenny anticipated SPG's easy acquiesance to his request to disrobe. At MOST Kenny was culpable for making a request he did not anticipate will be followed through, supported by his version of events that he didn't even realise that SPG had disrobed. Yes, I know this is his version of events - I was not there, but I am willing to take Kenny's version at face value given the glowing reports minishorts wrote of Kenny's character. Since the bulk of the comments seem centered around his perceived lack of faith with his girlfriend, my question here is - Is Kenny culpable for something that he did not intend?

Hence, it comes down to Kenny's decision to post the photo on his blog and make the breasts jiggle - about the only intentional act he may be culpable for. There was a perceived "tastelessness" to the post. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't, but this doesn't seem to be the real issue, does it? Was the post -in isolation- tasteless? Or was the post -in combination- with his perceived lack of faith that made the post tasteless? I get the impression it's the latter, not the former.

Let's face it - in this particular case, when aka and bleh said that Kenny has crossed a line of morality, what they are really saying is that they have crossed their line of morality. Yet, nudity is highly subjective. Depending on context it can be moving, funny, distasteful, obscene, or titillating. The very FACT that there is so much controversy over this picture supports the diversity of views that Kenny's post inadvertently caused.

All I ask Kenny readers to do is to take a deep breath, consider the diversity of views available, then make your decision. More importantly, I ask you to consider things from Kenny's perspective. He obviously found it funny. A few of you did not. Is that really grounds to be disappointed in him?

For the record, I am not sexist - I believe the fact that I am willing to remove myself from my lucrative legal career in Singapore for the uncertainty of living (and possibly not finding work) in California to facillitate my wife's desired career in academia speaks more than I can ever write in this blog. I fully support SPG's right to nudity, and more than admire her guts to be unashamed of her body and sex. I fully support Kenny's right to post whatever rocks his world and feels is true to himself.

-IF- there is one thing I find objectionable about the whole thing, it is the fact that Kenny took down the pictures. I do not think he has done anything wrong, and his pictures, while distasteful to some, obviously provided amusement to others. To support some readers at the expense of others seems to smack of a compromise of what Kenny had set out to do in that post.

For that, Kenny, I mourn your passing. May it be temporary.

Temper, Temper

I have a temper.

No suprises there - I had just yesterday vented it on some hapless Straits Times Reporter whose name I will not deign to repeat. I do not regret it, considering the "buay hiao bai" behaviour he roguishly displayed to Linda.

That is not to say I do not regret displays of temper. In fact, this is one of the rare occassions I do not regret losing my temper.

Hence, when Huichieh describes my writing style as being "ever measured", I feel it is my obligation to let my readers know that I am not, in fact, even-tempered. Far from it. I've just learnt over the years to keep my temper on a short leash.

There -are- still a couple of things that can set it off - most of them to do with my upbringing. One of the things that -will- set me off are bullies. Growing up a geeky, overweight teenager in an all-boys school priding itself for producing jocks has left it's mark on me.

What does this have to do with poor hapless Mr. Au Yong? Simply that I have a very short temper for perceived injustices, especially when said injustices are perpetuated from half-truths or misleading "common wisdom" - the meat and drink of bullies to exert social power. -ESPECIALLY- when someone should know better.

For someone who prides himself on his self-control, coolness of mind and ability to rationalise argument, it is with some shame that I look back on my writings yesterday. Not that Mr. Au Yong didn't deserve my harshest language, but because I did what I did for improper motives - and received much positive feedback from it.

No one should have to deal with ungentlemanly behaviour because of someone else's hangup. No one.

This is not an apology to Mr. Au Yong. This is a statement to the Singapore Blogging Community - you guys did great. Don't let the ravings of one biased ignorant reporter and one foaming-mad writer ever take that from you.

Perpetuating a Stereotype

I've been avoiding commentary about Singapore events - I feel that as a Singaporean that has left Singapore, the news that I get about Singapore may not accurately reflect the actual sentiment of Singaporeans.

However, it is with a great deal of annoyance that I read the recent Straits Times report on Blogger.sg. The article annoyed me enough to spur me into commentary - and probably in the strongest language I've used on this blog.

My biggest gripe about this article is that it is built on false assumptions and perpetuates two negative stereotypes about bloggers (i) that blogging is primarily about "provocative pictures, biting commentaries and wit", and (ii) that bloggers are unjustifably uncomfortable with commentary when their public identities are known.

Mr. Au Yong, before you continue to spread such lies, I strongly urge you to examine your own prejudices before infecting the local media with them. As a journalist, I would expect no less from you, though I'm willing to give a small discount on journalistic standards simply because I understand the system you're working in.

The Purpose of Blogging

Mr Au Yong, reading the totality of the first two paragraphs of the article, I am forced to ask - What were your expectations of a Bloggers' Conferfence? It seems to me that you've relied on two common but erroneous stereotype of blogging (i) that blogging is about readership and (ii) bloggers do what they can to -attract- readership.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I write of my life in California, and the trials, tribulations, joys and sorrows I've faced here. If nothing else, my readership has gone -down- since my post about my move to San Francisco. Yet, I continue to write about it, simply because I feel it is a good source of information for me -and- my friends to look back on.

I can name any number of bloggers that write solely in their chosen areas of interest. Huichieh on singaporeangle writes excellent analysis on current affairs - but in a manner that would almost certainly exclude many casual readers because the depth of his analysis can get intimidating. InfernoXV writes primarily about his interest in Catholicism, the Classics and ancient music - again, subjects that will not interest the casual reader. Ivan writes about his work in the library. Shianux writes about legal developments and very occassionally, Singapore politics.

I write about what I do because of something Mr Miyagi wrote to me a long time ago. The Story Tells Itself. I believe in this strongly enough that I write - and if I get readership so much the better. I believe that many others in the Singapore Blogosphere write because they want to - and in the areas that they are interested in. If they -happen- to be interested in controversial issues, nude pictures, scolding taxi heisters or austitic children, more power to them.

More importantly, they do so because they are filling an information void created by mainstream media.

In short, Mr. Au Yong, you've got the entire phenomenon a** head backwards. Some of us write for readership. Others just write - readership follows.

Putting Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Are bloggers uncomfortable without their online personas? Perhaps.

Or perhaps there's this thing in Singapore called the Public Entertainment License SPECIFICALLY curtailing the very things that you seem to expect from a blogging conference? You know - controversial pictures? Dirty jokes?

Do we bloggers honestly expect protection with our online personas? Explain to me how acidflask got sued seven ways to Sunday by Phillip Yeo then. Explain to me how our beloved PSC scholar started a media frenzy over his racist comments - a media frenzy whipped up by you, the Straits Times no less.

Mr. Au Yong, if you -had- done your homework, you would know that there -is- no protection with an online persona - a fact that most Singaporean bloggers are becoming uncomfortably aware of, and a fact that the paper you work for exploits from time to time.

Hence, I strongly resent the overtones of cowardice or hiding behind your online persona that seems to be prevalent in your article.

A Whole Load of Hooey

I'm willing to wager, though I've not spoken to any of the organisers of Blogger.sg, that the whole point of the Blogger Conference was to =have= a Blogger Conference, nothing more. There would be no discussion of specific =topics= to blog on simply because the interests on =what= to blog are just too diverse.

We blog. That's good enough for Blogger Conference. That's good enough for me.

Apparently, that's not good enough for you, Mr. Au Yong. You are entitled to your erroneous opinion. I am entitled to rip it to shreds.

I will give you the benefit of the doubt that your article was written without careful consideration, and that you did not set out maliciously to do an NKF on Singapore bloggers - in spite of the fact that mainstream news reporting has very legimitate reasons to fear this phenomenon called blogging.

That being said, Mr Au Yong, I find your article as offensive as stereotyping Chinese as slanty-eyed money-faced gamblers, or stereotyping Australians as underachieving beer-guzzling former convicts. Your article is inaccurate and misleading, Mr Au Yong. I sincerely hope that an apology would be printed, even though I know the chances of that happening are smaller than the chances of winning TOTO - without buying a ticket.

If you take away -anything- from this, Mr. Au Yong, take away the solemn reminder never to let your stereotyping infect your work.

********

All bolded text below is my emphasis.

HEADLINE: 1st bloggers' conference is one big YAWN;
Mostly in their 20s, they seem guarded; Internet Relay Chat livens things

BYLINE: Jeremy Au Yong Shawn Woo

"THEIR personal websites are all about attitude - keeping readers riveted with provocative pictures, biting commentaries and wit.

Yet, when 200 of these bloggers got together at DXO CLUB at the Esplanade yesterday, the result was neither riveting nor provocative.

Many of the mostly 20-somethings seemed guarded, as if uncomfortable without the protection of their online personas. They listened politely to the talks given, spoke in turn, clapped at the right times and largely kept to PG-13 topics.

It was Singapore's first bloggers conference, but at times it could have been mistaken for a chess club board meeting.

In fact, despite baring their heart and soul online, many bloggers that The Sunday Times approached were shy and did not want to reveal their real names.

All the brightest moments came from the 'backchannel' - a large screen displaying a live Internet Relay Chat between members in the room.

There, in their native environment, the bloggers were themselves again - poking fun at the speakers, swinging insults and cracking crude jokes. The speakers were interrupted numerous times by the audience laughing at a remark made on the screen.

Among the speakers were lawyers who spoke about legal considerations for bloggers. A panel of tech-savvy Netizens also gave a presentation on how to use technology to improve blogs.

Those that went there to meet popular bloggers, however, were not disappointed. The who's who of homegrown bloggers - Mr Brown, Mr Miyagi and Xiaxue - were out in force and posed for photographs with the fans.

One of the organisers, Mr Lee Kin Mun, 35, an Internet consultant who goes by the name of Mr Brown, noticed that some people were not paying attention to the talks, but he said that was in the spirit of things. 'We always wanted a casual thing, not everyone sitting down listening to one blogger telling them what to do. I could tell at one stage many were mingling at the back, but that's fine.'"

Technorati Tags: Singapore, Blogosphere, Blogger.sg

How Cool is That?

Lots of good things happening.

- My private international law professor, Prof Jiminez, was kind enough to give some of us tickets to this week's baseball game between Oakland Athletics and the Texas Rangers! I don't follow baseball, but it'd be great to actually go to a ball game!

- Sadeel, our Jordanian import, was kind enough to treat us all to a meal of delicious Tajim Ajeeb, which Sadeel humourously calls Lebanese fast food. It's a flat pastry folded over, with minced beef, onions and kebab spice. It's excellent!

- My criminal law and procedure professor, Gerald Uelman, was lead counsel on the OJ case! I'll be seeing him next week.

Yeap. Life is great.

Book Meme

Extracting revenge for tagging him with the Movie meme, Edward has now tagged me with the Book Meme.

Before I start this meme, let me explain that (i) I'm primarily a Science Fiction/Fantasy reader, so expect that to be the major influence in my reading choices and (ii) I'm endlessly fascinated with the nature of heroism and the human spirit.

With that, here are my responses

Total Number of Books I'ved Owned:

Close to 1000, probably, estimating my five over full shelves, some double-stacked. Most of it is science fiction and fantasy.

Last Book I Bought:

I had just completed Robin Hobb's "The Golden Fool", second book in the "Tawny Man" saga. I like the series, but I'm not absolutely crazy about it - mainly because the protagonist is a well-fleshed character but is way too whiny for my liking.

Last Book I Read:

"Before sailing away with the sad news, their leader came to see me. He was an oaf named Procopius and the wine had not improved his appearance. 'O great and mighty Master Li, pray impart to me the Secret of Wisdom!' he bawled. A silly smile was sliding down the side of his face like a dripping water-colour, and his eyeballs resembled a pair of pink pigeon eggs that were gently bouncing in saucers of yellow won-ton soup. To my great credit I never batted an eyelash. 'Take a large bowl' I said. 'Fill it with equal measures of fact, fantasy, history, mythology, science, superstition, logic and lunacy. Darken the mixtures with bitter tears, brighten it with howls of laughter, toss in three thousand years of civilisation, bellow kai pei - which means 'dry cup' - and drink it to the dregs.' Procopious stared at me. 'And will I be wise?' he asked. 'Better,' I said. 'You will be Chinese.'

Li Kao, excerpted from Bridge of Birds written Barry Hughart

Bridge of Birds is an excellent novel about an Ancient China that never was. It never was because it was invented by Barry Hughart, a resident of Arizona. However, it is so -very- believable that it could have happened in Ancient China. The story begins with a village of children poisoned by a rare toxin, and the quest to rescue them that ties into an ancient wrong. The two protagonists, Number Ten Ox and Li Kao, are hilarious and so are the large cast of minor characters. I highly recommend this book.

Five Books that Mean a Lot to Me:

My first response to this would be "only five?!". Given the limitations of the meme, these are my picks.

"Legend" by David Gemell

"Never violate a woman, nor harm a child. Do not lie, cheat or steal. These things are for lesser men. Protect the weak against the evil strong. And never allow thoughts of gain to lead you into the pursuit of evil. Never back away from an enemy. Either fight or surrender. It is not enough to say I will not be evil. Evil must be fought wherever it is found."

---The "Iron Code" of Druss

There comes a time in our lives where we are given no quarter, and ask for none. The book is about one such situation. An old fortress, the gateway to the Drenai Nation is understaffed and is about to be overwhelmed by the world's equivalent of the Mongol hordes. The leader of the ragtag defenders is the greatest Drenai hero, Druss the Legend. Except he's aging. And he dies before the final battle.

Yes, it's stock. Yes, it's trite. But David Gemell's writing is elemental in a way that I can't explain. It's not just this book - all his books hit you in the gut in a primal way. My respect for David Gemell grew when I discovered that he started out mining coal for a living - and discovered that his years of coal mining gave him lung cancer. In many ways, "Legend" can be read as his battle with cancer.

Read it, give the plot a chance. :D

"Hunchback of Notre Dame" by Victor Hugo

Having extremely limited proficiency in French, I was unable to read in its original language what is, in my opinion, Hugo's best work. I liked Les Miserables too, but honestly, for raw power and heroism, no one beats Quasimodo - the original "beast with a good heart". I especially love the scene where Quasimodo climbs up the tower one-handed (the other bearing his lady love) and yells for sanctuary.

The question I always ask when I read and reread this masterpiece is, "What kind of mix of self-loathing and heroism would lead Quasimodo to do what he does?" The other question is of course...

"Who =hasn't= ever felt like Quasimodo?"

"Snow Crash" by Neal Stephenson

Name me one other book that would name their protagonist..."Hiro Protagonist". A break from my usual taste for heroic protagonists, Hiro is anything but his namesake. What the book does in scintillating splendor, however, is explaining some truly esoteric concepts in almost-believeable manner.

What I love about Snow Crash, however, is Raven, the main antagonist.

How badass is Raven? He's so badass he rides around with a nuclear warhead strapped to his cycle. He's so badass he wired said warhead to a deadman's switch - ensuring that anyone who kills him is going to take out most of the city Raven's currently in. He's -so- badass that he uses knives made from the one material able to hold a monomolecular edge - glass.

"A Hymn Before Battle" by John Ringo

Military science fiction is an extremely niche area of literary fiction. In this small niche area, there exists an undisputed master - John Ringo. This author has served time in the military, and it shows in his writing. More so, he knows and is able to explain the difference between a hero and a heroic soldier. I do very much enjoy his postulations and extrapolations of fictional "what-if" scenarios.

The interesting thing about "A Hymn Before Battle" is that while it features a main protagonist, the true strength of this book is the theme of collective heroism - so important in seperating an elite fighting unit and an ordinary one.

"Remains of the Day" by Kazuo Ishiguro

A departure from my usual readings, and a text from my undergrad days - my only foray into academic literature. Remains of the Day had a major influence on me - it has always represented the ideal of hope and sacrifice to me.

Indeed of all the books that I love, this one strikes me even closer now that I'm at the cusp of a new journey, and so close to having completed my old one.

The five people I tag are:

One Little Twit (sorry to victimise you again!)
Loy Huichieh (who will probably blow me away with his intelligence)
Shianux (ditto)
The Slinky Cat (because a good turn deserves another)
Ivan Chew (what does a Librarian read?)

You Know You've Been Logging Too Much When...

...the first thing you think off when you see this article is Faith, Mr Brown's 4 year-old daughter.

Perhaps there is some hope left, so long as people like Mr Brown continue to raise our awareness of autism and other learning disabilities. Mostly about how even autistic kids will be kids.

God Bless, Mr Brown.

How Far Would You Walk....

...to save 2 quarters worth of parking fees?

When I head to the commercial heart of Berkeley, I usually park my car in the nearest residential area (2 hours free parking) and leg it the rest of the distance. Sometimes I even just forego the parking and walk the whole distance. That's 2.6 miles walking, there and back. All to avoid 50 cents parking and gas money.

I've had a number of struggles to overcome since I've arrived here. For the most part, I think I've done a decent job. The one thing that I haven't been dealing too well with is my new lack of income.

Make no mistake. I miss it, but I'm not going through withdrawal symptoms. However, some spending habits that I've acquired over my three years of work form a very stark contrast to my current situation. When I walk by a restaurant, I look at the menu and am acutely aware that I would have been able to afford it had I still been working. I look at the price tag of a book I want and wonder how much of a dent that would make in my extremely limited budget.

I try to do what I can to save money. Sometimes I wonder if I am going overboard, but I suppress that thought. Better safe than sorry, and I had already had to incur many costs that were not budgetted.

Interestingly enough, it has not dampened my spirits in any way. If nothing else, the whole experience has taught me to appreciate the best things in life. Long walks down Telegraph Avenue (the Bohemian district) on Saturday. Chilling out at the park. Making simple but delicious meals. Those things govern my life now.

I've never been happier.

Tragedy

Oh gawds.

I was awaken today with Edward babbling something about phone bills and checking if people are safe. Confused and bleary, I only just made out what happened.

Nothing I can write can describe how I feel about this. This is ghastly. I can only think of my friends who are in London when this happened - I pray that you are okay.

What You Use To Catch De-Fish With

A month ago, I had a farewell lunch to my beloved mentor and good friend. She had lost a husband earlier this year in a tragic accident. She dutifully turned up for my dinner invitation even though I knew her heart wasn't in it.

Some time during the dinner conversation, I asked her why she did not take part in competitive debating anymore. Her answer, "It's too destructive".

For a long time I couldn't think of a response.

Slowly, it dawned on me that she was right - and I had been feeling that way for years. I had tried out for competitive debating while I was in JC but I wasn't selected - leading to over 5 years of trying to "get into" the debate scene. I tried out for debates in University - and I succeeded in getting selected for a team.

It wasn't the joy I thought it would be.

I continued on to try out for mooting competitions (I failed at that too) and slowly, the passion I had when I was in JC faded away. I just...slowly distanced myself from it. The passion wasn't there.

It's now, after almost 12 years, that I realised it wasn't passion - it was envy. The truth is, I never had enthusiasm for being a debator. It was a means to an end - to get into law school, to get over my stutter. But never what I -wanted- to do. The sad thing is, for years, I had mistaken it for passion and pursued what was ultimately a dead end.

Now, at the beginning of a new beginning, I now see what had always held me back. I was not inclined to be destructive. I've never been. I eventually became good at it, sure. But as I grow older I realise that it is not complex seemless arguments, or the thread of argument that survives the attempts to tear it down that is ultimately true or wise. It is merely that which survives destruction.

It is simple truth.

Professor Steinman once asked the class to "prove water is wet". I go further and ask if any simple truth, by nature of being simple, will ever be proven.

I do not ask people to simply accept truths as being self-evident. Far from it. I ask people to remember that in the midst of seeking truth, one might forget that truth might simply settle on you when you're not looking.

Living in the Bay

There's one thing I simply cannot get over - the weather in the Bay Area. The air here is always dry and crisp. Bread doesn't go mouldy. Cereal doesn't turn soggy. Stuff dries up so fast.

It's a godsend for someone with ezcema. I've not had an attack since I got here (touch wood).

I also can't get over how going 40 miles south can turn a day from cool and bracing to warm and sunny. There's a big difference between the weather in San Jose and Berkeley. San Jose feels like a dessert - a pleasant desert, but a desert nonetheless. Berkeley feels cool and bracing all the time.

Another thing I can't get over is how...bright the sun here is. It's a whole different quality from the sun we get back home. Sunlight here is white. Sunlight back home has a yellowish quality to it.

Thanks to my 40 mile commute everyday, I now have one arm darker than the other. That's because I drive down south in the mornings and back north in the evenings - meaning the sun's always left relative to the direction I'm driving.

The food here feels no different from the food I get back home. That's probably because I cook a lot. Rice here is cheap enough that I can have it as a staple - and there's no difference in price between Thai Jasmine Rice and them Japanese sticky short stumpies (Rice grains! RICE GRAINS!). Soy sauce and oyster sauce are readily available.

Most of all, I'm much happier about the level of independence I have here. I do stuff for myself, and while I'm very money-conscious here since everything here is so expensive, there's a lot I can do to entertain myself for free. I now relish walking down to do groceries - about 10 blocks down, and 8 of it is beautiful suburbia, complete with lawns, gardens, flowers, fruit trees and squirrels.

In short, I feel the changes coming. It's barely been a month and I don't feel like the person that left Singapore - or more accurately, like the person in Singapore should have been.

I'm not sure if I can fit in once I return to Singapore. I'm not sure fitting in is a good thing.

Meet Sierra

Sierra is a gorgeous golden retriever belonging to my Constitutional Law professor, Edward Steinman. Professor Steinman brought her to class for both his classes. She's an absolute sweetheart, quietly napping away while we grapple with the Bill of Rights.

My LLM summer session has started. It's been all great so far. We have about 14 topics to cover and we've managed to cover 2 in our week here so far - Constitutional Law and Contract Law. We've started Intellectual Property so far. The work's intense but I finally have the chance to relax over this Independence Day weekend.

My classmates are great. We have 2 Austrians, 2 Chinese (as in from China), 1 Peruvian, 1 Jordanian, 1 French and 1 former UN Commissioner for Human Rights (what he's doing in our classes I have -no- idea). And there's me, the only common law conversant person among the whole group. We're planning parties already.

My course material has been great so far, save one - I've realised a wee bit of bias against Foreign LLM students in terms of course selection. It probably isn't intentional but it exists. We've one year here - and hence our selection is extremely limited due to prerequisites. We've no GPA so that further limits our course selection. End result - cool courses like internships, externships and writing for the Journal are barred from us.

I'm can't say I'm not disappointed - but at least the option of contributing to the Journal is open to me, and I've learnt a long time ago not to dwell on inabilities but to do the best I can.

Busy Busy Busy

Classes have started.

I'm incredibly happy to be back in school. Santa Clara University is certainly a cut above the only other university I've attended - both in terms of student resources and quality of teaching.

I can honestly say that, while I'm overwhemled, the sheer opportunity of the place is exciting. I'm currently looking into possibilities I never thought possible - internships, externships, writing, working part-time.

All this mixed with the sobering realisation of how naive and sheltered the legal profession in back in Singapore - it's motivation for me to work that much harder, and learn what I can here.

Oh, and I got a picture of my Constitutional Law professor's pong pong Golden Retriever. Will upload it in a few days.

IPO Announcement

I am proud to announce that Almost Infamous has been listed as of June 26 2005 approximately 7 pm Pacific Time.

:fiddles around with blogshares:

What?!

You mean I can't speculate in oil derivatives, lose a fortune and repay 33 cents to the dollar on my oustanding debts?!

You mean I can't announce a merger, inflate my stock price, post records losses, then subsequently announce that the merger was a big mistake and drop my original name from the company?

You mean I can't use questionable accounting methods and tactics to manufacture a power failure to drive my profits up?

You mean I can't speculate in Nikkei derivatives, lose a fortune and...oh...wait...

This sucks! Where's the fun in listing your blog?

Disclaimer: This entry was intended to parody real life events. almostinfamous.blogspot.com has no intention to speculate on derivatives of any kind, announcing mergers, use questionable accounting methods or tactics.

My Weekend Off

Having completed most of the setting up chores, and left with a day before school starts proper, I took a quick drive down to the Berkeley Marina. I received two recommendations to head there - one from Don the Technician, the other from...I forgot who.

Wat a view it was.

I drove right to the end of the Marina, where the Fisherman's Pier was.


Humans aren't the only fishers here

Fisherman's Pier is 3000 feet of fishing heaven in San Francisco Bay. That's 3000 feet of useable space - the entire length of the Pier is actually 3.5 miles. From the Pier, I could see San Francisco, the Bay Bridge, and the Golden Gate Bridge - shrouded in the summer fog this area is famous for.


Golden Gate Bridge in the Background

I arrived at the Pier at about 1 in the afternoon and damn near froze to death. The sea wind (I hestitate to call it sea breeze) blasted away relentlessly. I found out later from a former boat salesman, John, that the Bay has some of the best sailing available in the world - as evidenced by the many sailboats I saw.


Oooo...sailboat

Worried that my toes were going to turn blue and fall off, I headed for land as fast as I could. Hoping to catch more glimpses of the sailboats, I drove down to the berths.


Oooo...many sailboats

I had never been to a Marina before in Singapore. To my best knowledge, those are exclusively private affairs - very much unlike the one here. Hence, I ogled at pretty sailboats until I felt like leaving.

One thing about Berkeley Marina though - it was also connected to a small nature preserve where bird watchers liked to congregate. There were nearby barbecue pits overlooking a sheltered bay area as well. Familes gathered around in idyllic bliss.

And there were squirrels!

My good friends know that I've a barely-concealed obsession with things cute and furry; the fluffier the better. Here in the Bay Area - EVERYTHING is pong-pong and fluffier than what I am used to. Including the squirrels, which I like chasing around.


Don't shoot me please!

Needless to say, I was damn proud getting this shot of the squirrel. I've tried several times to get a squirrel close up, but none were as good or close up as this one.

All in all, a nice lazy afternoon spent doing boh-liao things - for the first time since I got here.

Been There...

...got the T-Shirt!



I learnt a valueable lesson today - never make a boast you can't keep. Yes, I went to Google today. No, I'm not about to write in detail about it.

Because friends are more valueable than any boast I can make.

Jay was a class act. He was responsible for the wonderful lunch I had, he was responsible for the cool T-shirt I now own and he's one of two friends have who live here. Because I can't endanger Jay's job by any inadvertent disclosure to detail that I can make, I will write only that the details don't matter.

Sounds self-contradictory? Not so.

Think, if you will, of Rodin's statue "David". Imagine that you own this coveted statue. Like many others before you, you know have the opportunity to study, in detail, the many nuances of Rodin's masterpiece.

Assuming that you got every detail right, would you have duplicated "David"?

I argue not.

There are many terms for this quality. The French call it "'je ne sais quoi". The fashion industry calls it the "X-Factor". Houduins call it "mojo". Sportmen call it the "110%". Businessmen call it the "Midas Touch".

I have a simple term for it. Greatness.

Like all forms of greatness, the details are mere symptoms, not the processes by which greatness is acheived.

Today, I've witnessed greatness. I did not think it possible for greatness to exist in the corporate world, yet today, there it stood, a complete success story, there in brick and mortar, flesh and blood.

And now that I've witnessed greatness I am now ever more determined to find my own greatness. For that, I thank you, Jay.

I Did It!

To everyone who says the US Driving test is a piece of cake, I can only say "I hope you choke on that cake." Reason - no matter how easy a test is, it only takes one circumstance beyond your control to really mess things up.

Wednesday was the most awful day I had since I got here. I failed my driving test first try. Sadly it wasn't my fault. Some idiot driver cut into my lane while I was making a left turn. He approached from my blind spot, so I couldn't see him - leading to tester intervention which was an immediate failure.

I think the tester took pity on me, because he offered an unscheduled test the very next morning. I thanked him profusely. The rest of that Wednesday left my nerves in very bad shape - because all I could do was wait for the test next morning, and speculating the consequences of failing a second time.

Thankfully I didn't. I passed it this morning. Joy! I immediately rushed out and bought a nice second-hand Civic. I know I probably got gouged, but I don't care anymore. I got my license, got rid of my rental and drove off with my Civic, all in one day.


My Ah-Beng Car


I'm so relieved. That was the very last item I had before school next week. I can now spend my weekend in peace - and I shall.

I'm heading to Google tomorrow! With a camera!

Movie Meme

Got tagged by Slinky a while back - but was too busy angsting over my move that I haven't followed up on it. So here it is.

Total Number of films I own on DVD/Video

Probably in the hundreds. God bless JB.

The Last Film I Bought

Sin City. Watch it. It's GOOD!

Five Films I Watch A Lot/Mean a Lot to Me

This will sound strange but....

Hero

The Chinese version, not the Dustin Hoffman version. At the risk of sounding cheenah, I so totally -get- the movie. From a story version on flawed anti-heroes, to cold calculating heroes, to the very essence of a chinese hero, the movie told one story with a flawed first person narrative structure that doesn't often work in movies - except this one. Add that to gorgeous cinematography, beautifully choreographed action scenes and actors that know what they are doing!

Oh. And it had Donnie Yuen. That man is a legend. Get him some good parts please!

Taegukgi/Brotherhood

Forget Saving Ryan's Privates and The Thin Red Line. If there's a movie that ever potrayed the dehumanising effect on war, this is it. It was heartbreaking to see the elder brother take on mission after dangerous mission just to get his brother out of the draft and into university. It was more heartbreaking to watch him lose his purpose, then his humanity.

Okay, so it was melodramatic, and quite OTT towards the end, but if you EVER had siblings you love deeply, I guarantee this movie will pull some tears from you.

Snatch

I love anything by Guy Ritchie, but I think this is my favourite of his works. Edgy and fricking hilarious, it makes Pulp Fiction look like a lame retard. Not to say I don't like Pulp Fiction. I just like Guy Ritchie films so much more. The dialogue is just nice and tight, and the humour wicked.

Oh, and who doesn't like Brad Pitt and Vinnie Jones? I mean really?

The Incredibles

Another family-oriented movie. I loved this one especially because it had so many layers that appealed to me. The kiddy stuff, the animation is great. But the scripting was so excellent that it dealt with very adult stuff in a very understandable way. Another tear-jerker from me was when Mr Incredible yells out in frustration "I'm not strong enough!". God knows I've been there so many times, and I don't know a single married man who hasn't felt that way before.

A Better Tomorrow

I'm sorry. It had to be done. The grand-daddy of all HK gangster movies. The movie that made Chow Yuen Fatt a legend. The story that taught me all I need to know about friendship (and yes, I do realise how screwed up that makes me sound).

'Nuff said.

Tag 5 People and Have Them Put It In Their Blog

Linda Chia (cos I want her to keep writing)
Edward Yong (cos I know what he's going to write)
Gloria Ho (cos I don't know what she's going to write)
BigFuck (cos I know this will piss him off. :D)
One Little Twit (just coz!)

Things On IM

Edward: I just thought of a brilliant name for an all-male gay choir...."Tutti Fruitti"!

Me: Why? Cos "Queen" was taken?

It had to be done. Forgive me.

Reaching Out

Mr Brown's fairly recent article about Instant Messenging got me thinking. Sure, as a veteran of IM to pass away dreary hours in the office, it's great fun. However, it's taken on a whole new edge here, 8000 miles away from home. It's no longer a luxury.

It's a need.

As romantic as the notion of leaving home and pursuing your dreams is, there is very little romantic about homesickness. It hits you hard. It hits everyone who leaves home. It's that lurking feeling in your gut, that little parasite in your brain that asks "What the hell are you doing here?". It's a natural thing. I am just thankful that I was not brought up macho-shit, and have no qualms about expressing my feelings - I think that a different upbringing, one less well-adjusted, would have broken me.

Still, one MUST find ways of coping with homesickness. I've mentioned an aspect of this in my previous blog entry - keeping busy. I say with some authority that this is mere denial. Sooner or later, you feel a need to renew a connection with home.

That is where IM comes in. Today, I had my first Skype conversations. The previous days where I had my computer hooked up to the Internet had been first marred by the inability to get my sound card working, then by a fried chipboard. In days before this I had to rely on my trust phone and Singtel roaming connection to keep in contact, then by silent webcam.

I can't quite describe the feeling of seeing your family lined up in front of the webcam. It's exilarating. It's a small window to their lives, a faint connection to home that, despite distance, refuses to die. More important, that lurking shadow of guilt over roaming charges just vanishes. One is more willing to speak freely when one does not feel like he has to compress everything in as short a time as possible. IM, for me, in the form of MSN and Skype, made this possible for me.

We talked a lot, my wife and I. She expressed her fears on her scholarship. I tried to reassure her as best I could. She brought Junior in front of the webcam. Junior looked slightly perturbed, but was a real trooper.

I promised my wife and my technophopic mother to wake up early in the mornings to speak to them. I am only too pleased to comply. Leisure and family, for me at least, has merged into a happy muddle.

For a while every morning, at least, I can quell those nasty voices in my head.

Father's Day

There's something about being 8000 miles from home that makes everything at home rose-tinted. Even my dad.

Make no mistakes. I love my dad to bits. He's just very...undemonstrative. Were he a Roman, he'd have rised through the ranks with great ease. So when I got off the phone with him after talking to him for a full 15 minutes, I was suprised to say the least.

I've often claimed to be very much my mother's son. I didn't realise how much of my father's son I was, until one week ago.

I wrote in my previous entry about my various trials since getting here. I cannot say I've been unaffected by them. But as I plod on regardless, I realise depths I never knew I had. What patience and silent resilience I have, I inherited from a man who worked his way through school, and carved out a good life for himself with his bare hands.

So, as I spend my first Father's Day so far away from my old man, I can only thank the gifts he's given me, and continue my best wishes for him.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

The Neighbourhood

I realise I haven't actually shot many pictures of the neighbourhood I now live in. Suffice to say, it's suburban heaven. I'm less than a block away from Willard Park. It's a beautiful open space. On weekends I can see families having picnics and playing ball.


Willard Park


Playground at Willard Park

The thing I love most about my new neighbourhood is the fact that, while it's suburban, it's not uniform. I see buildings made of wood, brick and concrete. I see apartment buildings (like the one I live in) and beautiful 1920's style housing, like this one.



I've taken to walking around the neighbourhood a bit during lazy warm afternoons. Apparently it shows - my mom claims I've lost weight during my inaugural webcam sessions yesterday. Then again, this is my mom - who takes every bit of weight loss personally.

My wife, of course, claims the webcam is flattering.

T Plus One Week - Serendipity and Other Things

One week ago, I set out on a life-changing journey. I flew to Berkeley to set up a little apartment. As promised, here's the story.

The Plane Trip

Amidst a tearful farewell at the airport, I left Changi Airport Terminal 2. At my farewell was Nick, Dawn, Edward and family, and my own family. In a rare display of emotion, my mother burst into tears. I comforted her as best I could, and as I walked into the boarding area, I didn't turn back, as I had promised myself.

The first part of the plane trip was uneventful. I helped myself to as many movies as I could cram in a 6 hour flight to Seoul. In front of me, a pair of people were talking loudly. I assumed they were old friends and kept to myself. My own wounds were still too fresh.

After a short stop at Seoul, a situation developed. Seated beside me was a family travelling to San Francisco. The lady beside me looked disturbingly like my old company's head of HR. Beside her, on the opposite aisle seat, was an old lady, head leaning forward, looking rather green around the gills.

I soon found out that they were flying from Korea, after visiting their family. They were apparently related to some Korean star whose name I just could not remember (It wasn't Wong Bin). While relating to me the tale of their family visit, I found out that the old lady on the other aisle seat was, in fact, the lady's mother, and she had just undergone a liver transplant. A while later, the lady asked the crewmen for a row with empty adjoining seats.

For a brief moment, I recalled my own crying mother at the airport.

I volunteered to move to the row in front, with the two chatting people. I figured that they wouldn't mind - they had each other for company after all. One of the two chatting people in front, a young lady, ducked into the center seat. She didn't mind sitting in the center, she said.

It turns out that I was mistaken. The two of them just got to know each other on the plane. Strangely enough, they were both headed to Stanford to attend the graduations of their significant others. I introduced myself to them, and we spent the rest of the 11 hours chatting like old friends. One turned out to be tres chic, the other turned out to be...well...you'll see.

Jay is singularly -the- most unassuming man I've ever met. He had just returned from a business trip from India and wanted to suprise his girlfriend at her graduation. When probed further, he revealed who he was actually working for.

Google.

You heard me. Google. -THE- internet company. The mighty giant slayer.

I found out so many things about Google from him. Like how Google actually functions as an in-built calculator. How they serve lobster and steak at the cookhouse at the office.

In the course of our conversation, I asked him where else has he worked. His reply blew my mind even more.

NASA. Yeap. That organisation that launches people to the moon?!

Christina, my other row-mate, was equally interesting, though for different reasons. She's a happy, bubbly, Indonesian girl working for GIC (insert gah-men joke here) and anxiously awaiting to see her DSTA Scholar boyfriend Nigel. She talked at length about how her future in-laws (once Nigel -acutally- gets round to proposing) are the best-est people in the world, and how sweet Nigel was as a dude.

But Jay was, of course, tres chic. Cos he worked for Google.

Needless to say, Christina and I relentless badgered Jay about Google. I think it was equal parts nice-guy and just to shut both of us up, but Jay was nice enough to invite us to lunch at Google. So yeah, I'm gonna visit Google in a week's time. Is that cool or what?!

As we were about to land, Christina gushed about her future in-laws, and how we should really check them out. I stayed around. Jay must have rushed off, since I was slowed down by immigration and baggage issues so badly.

Here's the really freaky part.

When Christina finally introduced her future in-laws, I saw a middle-aged lady who looked -so- familiar. I couldn't quite place it. With that nagging thought in my mind, I left the airport for my rental car.

A few days later, when I called Christina, I asked tentatively if she went to Convenant Community Methodist Church. When she replied (more like gushed) in the affirmative, she handed me over to her future in-law, Aunty June.

It turns out that June was the organiser of a Sunday School class at CCMC - a place I hadn't returned to in over 10 years. I taught there 10 years ago when a girl I was pursuing at the time was there. And June remembered me, because the girl and I helped direct a Christmas play where we auditioned literally dozens of people until we got the perfect Shepard - Neville, Nigel's elder brother.

The really freaky part is - the girl that I was pursuing at the time is also in San Francisco. I don't have her contact, but I know she's here because my old Drama teacher told me.

The First Night

When I arrived in my new apartment, it was cold, bare and lonely. There was no furniture, no comforts of home, no grumpy brother and father, no nosy mother, no hyperactive wife, nothing. That awful first night, I broke down and cried. I missed home so badly. I called home in hysterical sobs.

My wife calmed me down that first night. She had been through it before during her undergrad days. I finished the phone call feeling tired but much much better.

The Next Few Days

After that awful first night, I resolved to beat back my homesickness. I went into a frenzy of decorating and stocking up. I bought groceries, crockery, furniture, everything. I assembled my own TV Rack and office chair. I understand now why people tell me to keep busy while I'm here. Every blow of the hammer, every assembled piece of furniture would beat back the loneliness just that little bit more.


Notice something wrong with the TV Rack?

When I was assembling this TV rack, I got three pieces back to front and hammered my index finger. I'm glad it's still holding up my big-ass TV. I usually watch the Comedy and Sci-Fi channel on it now.

The days that I spent could best be described as "two-steps-forward-one-step-back". Everything I did seemed to be unduly complicated by issues. My power transformers broke down and I had to get new ones from Oakland Chinatown. My cable connection was so bad that I had to call in technicians to adjust the frequency before I could get a signal to get internet access. My driving test was cancelled because I didn't get some document from the car rental company (which no one told me about, or even mentioned in the least until I was at the test centre). When setting up the bank account, I had to try three times because of inadequate documentation.

Slowly, but surely, though, my life and lot here got better. I present to you now, the fruits of all my labour.


My computer desk

After my fiasco with my TV Rack, I decided to get someone to install this for me. Don, the assembly technician, was more than helpful. We had a long conversation about places to go in Berkeley, things to eat, places to visit. Don was another interesting guy. He was a former soldier who served in Desert Shield, and spent his time after his service making deliveries as a UPS trucker. His knowledge of the area was nothing short of awesome, and his furniture assembly skills put my own to shame. He has 4 beautiful teenaged kids and he is a good man.


My Kitchen

I am especially proud of my kitchen. It's the heart and soul of my apartment, more so than my computer desk. I cook my meals here, and have been since the second day. I have a wok, a pan, a rick cooker and a microwave. I've a well stocked spice cabinet, and food enough for 2 weeks in the fridge. I'm so very proud that I managed to set this kitchen up from absolutely nothing in such a short time.

So here's the report card of my previous week. It feels like it's been a year, and I still have many things left to do, but I think this is a pretty darned good start for a week.

I'll be blogging again regularly now that I've got my connection. For those of you loyal enough to still be reading this blog, God bless you. All two of you. :D

T-Plus 5 Days

Still in an US$3/hour cafe, so I can't type much. I get my cable connection in two days. When I do, I'll write about the hundreds of stories that I've accumulated in the very short time I am here.

Suffice to say, they involve long-forgotten people from my past, tres chic new friends, a throbbing finger from having hammered my index finger (literally), a funny-looking TV Rack, and the pain of not having a California Driver's License.

Akan Datang. Be back in a day. Promise.

T-Plus 3 Days - Still Alive

I'm alive. It's been a rough few days but I'm alive.

I'm at an internet cafe at the moment. Won't get my connection till thursday, so no anecdotes till then.

Just wanted to drop a post to let everyone know I'm alive, I'm okay, and I really really miss home.

T-Minus One Day

This will be the last post I'm putting up for some time. Tomorrow, I format my hard-disk, delink it from the house router and start afresh. I solved my data transfer problems with an external hard disk fresh off Sim Lim today. Lunch was a pleasant affair with Edward and Gloria. I picked up my new glasses and got a new pouch for my toiletries at Isetan. I'm well ahead of my packing schedule.

Tonight, I had dinner with friends I've not seen in ages. As usual, the non-practioners arrived way before the practioners. One of my friends got married last month without inviting us. Another got attached. A third's getting married next June. And I will miss all of this.

My wife, attending the dinner, asked why I was so depressed after tonight's dinner. I replied it was because I wouldn't be seeing them for a while. She quipped that it will be no different from usual - they would be extremely busy anyway, and I rarely get to see them more than once or twice a year. I didn't reply.

This time I knew things were different. The possibility of seeing them made their distance seem somehow closer. The reverse is also true. Too soon, I'll become something alien and foreign to them. For a person that prides himself on the support networks he's cultivated, it's painful to be seperated from it.

I've freed myself from the drudgery of burning CD's tomorrow, so I'm having dim sum with my mom - just the two of us. I asked my brother along, but he refused, citing his usual practice of having only one meal a day. I look forward to lunch tomorrow. I know that my mom needs to cope with me not being around.

My mother has not slept in days - and I know the reason why. My mother does not sleep at night because she tortures herself with the impossible question of not knowing whether she would have lost me today if I had gone 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I drew strength from my brother and my mother - my two pillars of strength. Today, I'm not sure who draws strength from whom. Some days I return, exhausted with dealing with my job, I look at my brother, mother and wife, and wonder why I am still here, still drudging half-assed through the same system that drove my mom to success, my brother to dejection and my wife to complicated courses of action.

10 years ago, when I asked to be sent overseas to read law, she could not because her company was undergoing restructuring, and she might have lost her job. She didn't tell me the truth of course, and tried to paint the picture that reading law in Singapore was a superior course of action - persuasion out of pure ignorance and desire to shelter me from the uncertainties she was going through.

It wasn't. And for years I resented her. Until I learnt the truth and faced the uncertainties for myself. Then I could no longer resent her.

I can't say for certain this day why I still have so much of a need to go overseas. Perhaps it was regret for this lost opportunity 10 years ago. Perhaps it was a desire to get away from here, to escape this institutionalised madness. Perhaps it was a challenge I set myself 10 years ago to be the best man I could be, and still am not.

Perhaps it was all three. Perhaps it was none. Equal parts bravado and doubt, courage and sacrifice, hope and dejection.

I know that if I turn back on Friday, I'll never have the courage to leave. And if I never leave I cannot love them any more than a mirror can love the true face of the image it reflects.

When I return, I return as their son and brother ought to have been before the disappointments, the envy, the broken dreams. Before the gradual bleed of the soul, the slow rot of the spirit. Before all the compromises. Before all this foolishness began.

I return to them whole because I will have tried, for myself - and that is all I ever needed.

T-Minus 2 Days

Got my power transformers today. It was suprisingly easy. There's one apparently dedicated to the X-Box and I got the one for my computer from Sim Lim. I even had enough time to check out some books from Sunny's and get some World of Warcraft time in today.

I've managed to get everything that I -can- pack into boxes already. Some other things I -can't- pack (like my PC) because I still need them for day to day use.

Almost got over my cold - the remnants still trouble me, but not as much.

During dinner tonight, I struggled with peeling my own apple skin, as I always have. Not that I can't do it - I just can't do it well, efficiently or neatly. My apple slices would always end up misshapen or wrong-sized. My mom, fighting back tears, insisted on peeling the apple for me. She said she wouldn't have a chance to do so for a long time.

My need for independence lost out to letting my mom do the little things she can to manage her sadness.

I left for teh with my friends at night. During teh, I spoke to one of my friends interning at the Straits Times about the recent...mistakes made by the Straits Times vis-a-vis bloggers in general. Though I suspect little will -actually- be done, it felt good to do the right thing. Sadly, feedback in Singapore, like many other Asian countries, have to be done by carefully placed words to the right people.

Very much like letting my mom peel the apple, actually.

T-Minus 3 Days

I packed all my clothes today. It's a revelation to discover all the clothes you own can be stuffed into one suitcase.

I have my X-Box and computer left to pack. Oh and my bed linen and towels and such. So far, I've packed away a bunch of steel bowls, plates and some chinese cooking implements that would be a hassle to find there.

It's weird. I don't feel as excited as I thought I would. It's just task after task after task. Today I bought jeans and a sleeping bag, got my hair cut and made new glasses. Tomorrow I settle my life insurance matters and check if I can get power adaptors for my X-Box and computer. Day after, I'll say my final goodbyes to good friends. Thursday I stay home and burn my precious files and music to CD and ship them off.

I guess this cold I'm nursing doesn't help either. Oh well.

Off to bed, and if this cold doesn't get better by tomorrow I'll go get my system nuked with penicillin again.

Code Name: Ah-Seng

The Note

Something stank.

I checked my calender. Yeap. Three days since my last shower. Still, that didn't explain the note on my table.

"Meet me behind Hideout if you want to crack the conspiracy.

Signed,
Missionary"

I silently cursed my luck with cool nightclubs. I had to play this carefully. If I got anywhere within 7 steps of Hideout, that would mean the end of my cover.

But for a chance to crack the conspiracy? I had to risk it.

I took a swig from my hip flask to steel myself. As always, I cursed my alcohol-intolerant chinese genes as I swallowed the mouthful of teh-o peng. That did the trick.

I had a bad feeling about Hideout. In my line, you learn to heed your bad feelings. Especially when they involve chio-bus. And Hideout had chio-bu's aplenty. Which made me all the more suspicious. From experience, there were two possibilities:

(a) Missionary was telling the truth; or
(b) It's time to get my annual STD test done again.

I eliminated the second possibility almost immediately. The doctors did mention that, thanks to the antibiotics, my rashes were clearing up well.

It had to be the first. Missionary had to be telling the truth. Which means I had to go.

God help us all.

The Meet

The alley was dark but clean. A part of my brain reminded me that this was Singapore - dirty alleys were illegal, and hence could not exist. I shook my head and took another shot of teh-oh peng to clear it.

I thought I had left that behind me. Apparently not. The BCG scar still itches, and my head's not been clear since the day I shook off Gah-men conditioning. Apparently, the conditioning's deeper than I had ever expected.

All the more reason I needed the answers. And the answers were right in front of me.

Literally.

Missionary flickered in and out of existence. It was most disconcerting. One moment he was standing before me. The next he just disappeared - and I couldn't even remember why I was standing behind Hideout.

I knew a little about Missionary, save that he was a high-ranking civil servant and gay. His little flickering trick was the interaction between two contradictory proclamations - he exists because a minister once acknowledged the existence of gay civil servants. Yet he doesn't exist because Singapore refuses to acknowledge the existence of gay lobby groups, gay rights or gay-dominanted media. Missionary now exists in some terrible in-between world of existence and non-existence.

I once asked Missionary why he calls himself Missionary. His answer - Deep Throat was illegal in Singapore. Apparently, I was not the only one bearing scars.

I summoned my courage to greet him in the Forbidden Tongue.

"Eh, Siao Eh, Hor Bor?"

Missionary hissed a crisp Brit warning "Are you mad?! You'll bring the MDAMen on us! You have no fear of being censored?"

I sighed. You can take the civil servant out of the gah-men...

"Okay, fine. What do you have?" I leaned casually against the side of the alley.

Missionary responded in hushed tones, "Do you know about Blogger.sg?"

Before I could give my usual smart-alecky remarks, Missionary cut in with bitter undertones, "Nothing. You know nothing."

Missionary looked shaken. I stirred. A salty fellow, Missionary does not frighten easy. "Watch out, old chum. It's a trap. There's a mole deep in the Resistance. His code name is Ah-Seng. Watch out for him."

"Ah-Seng? You mean....James Seng?! It can't be! No one would be so dumb to give a person a code-name that's his actual name!"

Missionary smirked bitterly, "No one, except..."

Of course! How could I be so stupid! We know who we're dealing with - to expect originality from them would be foolish!

Missionary dropped a second bomb on me. "I think Ah-Seng's a construct. A droid. A robot specially designed and programmed to infiltrate the Singapore blogger community. I have evidence."

Okay. That -was- a little far-fetched.

Missionary rambled, obviously agitated. "He has to be a robot. He has to be. What kind of a flesh-and-blood man speaks in HTML?!"

I blinked. "Actually, I know lots of geeks who talk like that."

Missionary looked nonplussed. "Ah, but how many people only leave the house when World of Warcraft servers are down for maintanence?"

I facepalmed. "Dude. I do. In fact, I'm here only because it's a Tuesday, and the servers won't be up for another 2 hours."

Missionary was just about ready to launch his retort at my snarky comment when he cocked his head to the side and yelled to me, "The Silencer! He's found us...no wait, he's still tracking us! Run! I'll try to stall..."

The "Eh, you yell like that, confirm kenah track down one!" died in my throat, hushed deader than Singapore's opposition parties. I saw the pool of red spreading in Missionary's chest. Spurred on by my survival instincts and my du-lan-ness of being deprived of laying verbal smackdown, I ran in the direction of Hideout.

If the Silencer had one weakness, it would be his like for Hideout. He would not risk it shutting down. But could I get there in time?

I knew I was doomed. Cos you know, I only got D7 for my Track-and-Field CCA.

-To Be Continued-

Technorati Tags: sgblogconspiracy