Profile I am the boy-next-door who goes almost everywhere in a tee-shirt, jeans, and flip flops; the young and promising (just not in conventional ways) gentleman whom others stereotype as a bummer, a slacker, a buay-tak-che (cannot study); and someone who portrays the image of a beng without the dyed hair and the earholes. I am still the joker who occasionally pushes when the sign says pull; the sceptical miscief who touches anything that is labelled "wet paint", only to exclaim "the paint is wet, la!"; and the animal lover who picks up snails along pavements and puts them on the grass so that they will not be stepped on by people who are really bat-jiu-ta-stamp. I am the ex-full-time national serviceman in the republic of singapore air force, the ex-foh manager, ex-barista, ex-enroller; the present undergraduate and teacher; and the aspiring senior prisons officer. I am the guy you walked past once, but was just another face in the crowd. Archives November 2008 December 2008 April 2009 Credits skin by: Jane |
Tuesday, April 14, 2009 @ 01:23
Because I Fly Because I fly,
Saturday, April 11, 2009 @ 01:29
The Parking Coupon 10 Apr 2009 (Fri), 0020H, Pasir Ris Park Carpark 'F', Singapore Yesterday evening after a six-hour BBQ with my secondary five students, I returned to my car to find a sheet of paper on my windscreen under my wiper. Nope, I didn't win the 4-D nor did anyone write a note complimenting my car about how awesome it looks. It was a parking ticket, better known in Singapore as a 'summons'. Someone once told me that it's worth getting 'summoned' if we consider the number of times we didn't display parking coupons but didn't get caught. I agree this is true because in my nine months of owning a car and the countless times i've failed to display parking coupons, I've only been fined twice. Number of hours car was parked without parking coupons = Countless Number of times fined = twice Total amount of fines = S$36 Amount saved = Countless What puzzles me is this. Why are many of us willing to pay S$1 for a canned drink or a cup of coffee at the coffeeshop (Yes, prices of coffee are not immune to inflation, you know) but yet unwilling to spend the same S$1 and 30 seconds tearing five holes in a parking coupon? Thursday, April 09, 2009 @ 00:44
The Who We Are Series I am the baby who was born at Mount Elizabeth Hospital on the thirty-first day of March, nineteen eighty seven at sixteen forty-nine hours. I am the toddler my padiatrician said would one day become a President's scholar. I am still a scholar; just not a President's scholar but a Father-Mother Scholar. I am the boy who ran into a pillar at the void deck of a HDB block because I was enjoying my game of chase too much. I suffered a ba-lu-ku (bump) on my forehead for the next few days, only to have my grandmother ask me in what a fusion of hokkien and english if I bat-jiu-ta-stamp (have a stamp over my eyes). Very consoling indeed. I am the athletic teenager who was knocked down while playing basketball in school and suffered yet another ba-lu-ku and subsequently, a concussion. When I woke up the next day, I could not remember how I got home or why I could not remember anything, only to be rushed to hospital where a smart-ass young doctor told me I was having post-concussion amnesia. In layman's terms, that simply meant I was having a memory loss. As if I did not know that already. I was the most frequent visitor to my secondary school discipline master's office, where he combed my hair until it looked like a curry-pok, where he pointed out all my flaws until I felt I was a barbie doll with loads of polka dots and where he gave me I-can't-remember-how-many three-hour one-to-one no-toilet sessions about Confusian ethics and moral values. Now, I thank him for building me into a morally upright young man and for helping me to have a stronger bladder. It was me, all of it, walking past an injured pigeon one day before the GCE 'O' Level Chemistry practical paper and bringing it to the SPCA instead of studying. It was me who went bowling, pooling, and arcad-ing instead of studying for the History Elective paper the next day. It was the same me who entered Dunman High School with 261 points in the Primary School Leaving Examinations and leaving with a L1R5 of 15 points, a result my Chemistry teacher termed as "severe value deduction". I was the flower heart who had crushes on you, you, you, you, you, and you. And oh, I think I had a crush on you once before too. Yes, you. I was the casanova who had eleven girlfriends in four years of secondary school, just enough to form a soccer team with myself as the coach, assistant coach and ball-picker all rolled into one. I am the one who had the shortest relationship lasting three days, and the longest lasting one year and seven months. I am the graduate of Catholic Junior College who left with an official record of being absent from school 23 times and being late 20 times in one year and eight months, not to mention the unrecorded times. I am the same ex-student who still owes the discipline master nine days of detention even though I have already graduated. I am the examination candidate who sat for the GCE 'A' Level Literature paper without having read any of the six books in full but rather read their summaries online the night before. I am the same candidate who attempted in the same examination a context question on a book which the college had never taught and I had never heard or read in my life but scored a C grade. My Literature teacher called this an injustice. I think of it as risk-taking, a key trait to being a successful entrepreneur. I am the child of God who stopped going to church immediately after confirmation yet prays every night. My prayers are particularly long the nights before major tests and examinations, and when I desperately need something done. I am the boy-next-door who goes almost everywhere in a tee-shirt, jeans, and flip flops; the young and promising (just not in conventional ways) gentleman whom others stereotype as a bummer, a slacker, a buay-tak-che (cannot study); and someone who portrays the image of a beng without the dyed hair and the earholes. I am still the joker who occasionally pushes when the sign says 'pull', the sceptical miscief who touches anything that is labelled "wet paint", only to exclaim "the paint is wet, la!" and the animal lover who picks up snails along pavements and puts them on the grass so that they will not be stepped on by people who are really bat-jiu-ta-stamp. I am the young man you walked past once, but was just another face in the crowd. Yeah, this is me. Who are you? Tuesday, April 07, 2009 @ 23:29
The Dangerous Driver, The I-Couldn't-Care Mindset and The Hospitalised Relative 27 Aug 2006 (Sun), 1845H, Marine Parade Road, Singapore I was in a taxi when I learnt one of life's greatest lessons from the cabby who shared with me about the simplicity of life and how it is essentially what we choose to make and think of it. The cabby explained that events or incidents happen daily in our lives. By their factual nature, no emotions or feelings should be aroused in us. However, because we are human, opinions are formed, emotions and feelings are aroused, or conclusions are jumped to. He pointed out that often, humans appear to have an inclination towards perceiving events and incidents negatively. As the cabby was sharing, another vehicle suddenly swerved into his lane dangerously without signalling. He used that as an example to illustrate the importance of thinking postively. the cabby shared that there were three ways one could perceive that action: first, the driver was being extremely dangerous and ought to be reported to the police, or in the case of certain verbal assault specialists, a string of vulgarities would follow; second, a I-really-couldn't-care-as-long-as-he-dosen't-knock-into-my-vehicle mindset; and third, the driver could have done so because a relative of his was hospitalised and he was rushing to visit that relative, possibly for the last time. The cabby pointed out to me that in order to lead the life which I want - freedom, happiness, people-orientedness, the appreciation of the beauty of leading a simple life; I must be positive in my perceptions. Specifically, I must be truly thankful and appreciate what I have, rather than lamenting and questioning myself about what I must do to get what I do not have. This is not to say I must lack ambition. Rather, to be happy often simply means being content with what I have. While that taxi ride to East Coast Park cost S$12, I learnt so much more in that twenty-odd minutes than I did for the (then) past 19 years of my life. As Mastercard says, there are some things money can't buy. @ 23:11
The lady, her toddler and a road divider 06 Apr 2009 (Mon), 1720H, Tampines Street 11, Singapore I was driving along Tampines Street 11 when a middle-aged lady and her toddler crossed the road suddenly from the divider. They were less than 40m away. I jammed the brakes, stopped my car and gave a (very friendly and long) honk. Instead of completing their cross, they stood in the middle of the road for two seconds, looked at me, then walked backwards towards the divider. I gave an amused and exasperated wave for them to complete their cross, to which they then walked forward again. The lady's reaction got me thinking about human nature and comfort zones. When faced with unexpected situations which temporarily throw off our original goals, is it human instinct to return to where we began rather than persevering and completing what we set out to do? In the incident as stated above, why did she return to the divider rather than complete her cross? In my work and service-learning experiences, I have had colleagues and volunteers who excelled under normal and planned conditions. However, when faced with unexpected situations, many were at a loss; and of these, most chose to give up and return to where they began i.e. their comfort zones. Is this human nature? |