"Everyone has temptations..."

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

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

Comedy and Change

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

- (emphasis mine)

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

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

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

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

Time to keep on keeping on.

War Never Changes...

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

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

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

Tycho describes it best I think.

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

(Hat Tip to Penny Arcade.)

Midevil Teddy

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

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

At What Price, Peace?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dating

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

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

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

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

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

Go get 'em, Tiger. :)

Finding Peace

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

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

Amen, brother, and thank you.

Bravo

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

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

Sadugudu

Rules of the Game

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

There are three complications.

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

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

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

Here's an excerpt of our game on Sunday.

Round 1:

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

Round 4:

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

Round 7:

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

Round 10:

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

Bonus:

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

Word of the Day

C**kblock

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

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

*****

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

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

I only pray my efforts are enough.

My New Toy

Place Holder

I have on me:

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

I'm psyched. I can't wait.

Same Sex Marriage

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family

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

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

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

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

You only choose what they mean to you.

Continuing Legal Education

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

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

I jokingly responded, "Continuing legal education."

******

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

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

Yes, I know. I'm hilarious.

******

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

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

Would this argument work in Singapore?

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

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

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

Anyone want to hazard a guess?

It Grows...

Great Expectations

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

Historical Kit

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



Casual look


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

Hot and Prickly

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

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

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

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

Drama Dinner

Drama rules my life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When life gives you drama, you make ironic humour.